Page 83 of Lucky Night

They already do, he says. I was talking to Ben the other day, telling him what an astonishing lay his momis.

Nick! You’re disgusting!

That’s what Ben said. Should we have more tequila?

Yes, she says. No. Just a little.

He pours. She sips it, savoring it. Mulling over her inadequate explanation. Describing the Tom thing, the thigh slap—that implies the fault was Tom’s, when it wasn’t.

Poor Tom. Deceived. Disparaged. She’d said he was a goodcook. That was her bit of praise. How is that any more meaningful than Nick loving Caroline because she’s beautiful? It’s worse, in fact, because it was a setup. She knew she was going to drop the crypto bomb, and that Nick would lose his mind over it. She thoughtamazing cookmade a nice contrast.

That’s classy. Mocking your husband for the amusement of your…of a man who makes no secret of his disdain for him. But Nick’s wrong. So wrong. Tom is a gentle, sincere, generous soul. And anawesomecook. He’s sweet and playful. Not so much lately. Lately he’s been a bit down. A bit dark. The crypto thing devastated him. She’d had no idea it was happening, not until he came to her one night with a white, strained face.Jen? We need to talk.And her stomach flipped. He knows. Oh God oh God he knows. Then he started talking about money, and her relief was immense.Until he started sobbing.

She lied to Nick when she said she’d been upset about it. She’d never truly cared, not even at the time. Tom lost some of the money she’d earned from books inspired by her love for another man? That’s not a screwup. It’s justice.

But it happened ages ago. He can’t still be down about it. Has he done something else? Should she log in to their accounts?

No way. He’s just in a funk. Frustrated with her. You’re never home, he’d complained, as she was leaving to go upstate. Even when you’re here, you’re not here. It wasn’t true—she works so hard to be present, to be there for him. He was being shitty and unfair. Still. She should reach out to him. Say hi, tell him she loves him. She’ll send him a quick text. She picks up the phone and opens her messages.

But they’re not her messages.

Because this is still not her phone.

Panic surges up, quick and hot. She stands, feeling helpless. She can’t reach out to the ones she loves. For how much longer? She plugs the phone in to charge, then swings by the door and takes a good long sniff. Still no smoke. She returns to the end ofthe bed and stares at the television. She finds the remote and starts flipping. No other news channel is covering the fire. That’s a good sign, right? That’s promising.

Promising, promises…she’d made a promise to Tom. What did Nick call it? A social contract. Whatever, Vocab Man. It was a vow.I do.Or maybeI will,she can’t remember which terminology they ultimately settled on for the ceremony, she had a sinus infection that day and was completely zonked out on antihistamines. I do, I will—I promise. And it matters to her that she did that. It means that unless something truly dire happens, she will not call it quits. Because if you buy into the whole marriage thing—which she does, obviously—it’s for life, and you have to try. You don’t have to be flawless. Marriage is…well, it’s a challenge. It’s an AP course. The most you can hope for is a B. Maybe a B-minus. And that’s fine! The semester could last fifty years or more, so you can bomb one test. Or an entire unit! And still pass. Still succeed.

But no dropping. No switching majors. Unless you absolutely must.

Plus, people improve with age. Sometimes. They flower. She flowered. Herve said so. He said she was like a fine wine. What a goof. Maybe Tom hasn’t hit his prime yet.(You must always recognize the years of your prime, girls.)She has to wait for that. Because she promised. Promised to be there. Even though she’s not really there much anymore. With him. For him.

Is she just like Caroline? God no. She touches Tom, she doesn’t flinch, she…she’s trying.

He’ll be so hurt, if Nick’s right and they’re about to be busted. But they’ll get through it. Not as easily as they got through Tom’s lapse, but they’ll survive. Will he leave her? Surely not.

Probably not.

How did you get my number? Nick asks now.

What?

Way back. After the party. Who gave you my phone number?

Caroline, she says. I introduced myself for the fortieth time atPilates and said I wanted to make out with you some more. She handed it right over.

Their infamous New Year’s Eve. What a shock that had been. This guy? The one she always noticed, who she glanced around for when they showed up at a party? He’d barely said ten words to her in two years. There he was, right up in her business. And so drunk! She worried later that she’d taken advantage, dragging him out onto the porch. At the time, though, she didn’t care. She was so pissed. Because it had happened again.

A few hours earlier, she and Tom had walked through the door and were set upon by a sky-high Marla Park, who started raving about how great Jenny looked.Cocktail attire!the evite had said, and for the first time in a long time, she’d made an effort. It was New Year’s, she’d lost the last of the Natey weight, so she put her hair up and crammed herself into an LBD from the old days. Tom stood beside her, listening to Marla’s compliments. He grinned, put a hand on the back of Jenny’s neck, and squeezed. Gave her a little shake.

And she dropped dead.

Right there in the Parks’ foyer.

Not because what he’d done was controlling, or possessive. No, she died because she’d seen him do the same thing to their golden retriever. Grab her around the collar and give her a shake, like,you scamp!It was friendly.Love ya, cutie!Trixie didn’t mind, Trixie fricking loved the attention. But Jenny minded. She didn’t want to be a dog, or a horse. She wanted to be a woman. Clichéd as it sounded it was what she wanted and what she hadn’t been for years. She longed to be Jenny again. Walking down a city street, arms swinging. Free and full of possibility.

So a few hours later, when she turned and found Nick standing behind her with her necklace in his mouth, well, it wasn’t exactly a gesture of grand romance, but it woulddo.

It would have todo.

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