Page 81 of Lucky Night

There must be a reason. Caroline has a side of the story, after all, her own narrative of their relationship. Full of small grievances, battles not picked. Hills not died on, which nevertheless dot the landscape, reminders of all the accommodations necessary to a functioning marriage. What did he call theirs? A good partnership. One that, if they are found out, will be wrecked.

She doesn’t want to touch me.She’d never seen him so undefended. He didn’t seem to mind it at the time, but is it bothering him now? Is he this moment being racked by a vulnerability hangover, she’s going to go back out and be grilled about whether she made out with an Amtrak conductor on her way into the city and caught herpes?

She scrolls through a few more videos, but they’re a waste of time. Like everything on the internet. And like worrying about what Nick is thinking, whether he’s uneasy, whether he’s this, he’s that. His reactions, what’s really going on in that big brain of his, have often been her preoccupation. But they’re not actually her problem.

She washes her hands and leaves, barely glancing in the mirror.

When she comes back into the main room, he’s rifling through the minibar again.

Am I the best sexual partner you’ve ever had? she asks.

Absolutely, he says. He holds up a bag of chips. Can you believe they want twenty-two dollars for this? It’s five ounces of potatoes!

She’s about to inquire further—absolutely?—but the television distracts her. The reporter is speaking intently into her microphone.

Juliana looks worried, she says.

He tears open the chips. She’s probably just constipated. Unlike you, she hasn’t taken a bathroom break for hours.

She unmutes the television.

—and after a significant amount of time with no apparent progress, the hotel is demanding more information from the FDNY, who, they say, have not been forthcoming regarding their initial difficulties in locating the fire.

That’s not good, she says.

It’s fine. Our ace reporter is manufacturing a controversy to keep people from changing channels. He holds the bag out. Truffle chip?

When are you going to admit you don’t know what you’re talking about?

Jenny, come on. I just think—

I know what you just think. It’s what you keep just thinking, and saying. It’s fine, it’s fine! But you have no idea. We’re stuck in here, and there are fire truckssurroundingthe building, which doesn’t seem, to me, to be the definition offine.

He sighs. She has vexed him. You know what? Too bad. No—it’s good. Let him be vexed. Let him be wearied by her legitimate concerns.

She’s done letting him rest easy in his delusions of safety.

Employees of the hotel have told us that the slow preliminary response to the fire stemmed from the FDNY’s decision to send only one unit to investigate theinitial alarm, after multiple incidents over the weekend were determined to be false alarms. A source at the FDNY strongly denied this claim, insisting instead that unaccountable delays on the part of the hotel’s third-party alarm monitoring service ledto—

Let’s not fight, he says. We’ve been doing so well. And much as I’d love it, we can’t expect Dame Helen to barge in and separate us if we start going at it again. So let’s be friends, okay?

As suddenly as it came, the irritation leaves her. The urge to bicker. Friends. Sure. Whatever.

She scooches up the bed to lean against the headboard. He takes the chair.

Where were we? Right. You were about to tell me why you cheat on your husband.

You don’t really care, do you? You’re only asking because—

Youaredeflecting, he says. Fascinating.

I’m not! But it’s not like I’m used to talking about this, either. I opened up to one friend, years ago, thinking she wouldn’t judge me, and, wow. Was I wrong. Don’t look so terrified. I didn’t tell her your name.

She needs a minute to gather her thoughts. She has many. She’s been thinking about this for six years. But talking about it? No. Not since Diane.

You described not being touched, she says. The loneliness of it. Which I get—and it sounds awful. I have—had, really—a different problem. We’re talking six, seven years ago, when you and I…when this started. You weren’t touched? All I was, was touched.

By the boys, he says.

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