Page 52 of F*ck Marriage

The door opens and Satcher walks in, his head down as he slips off his shoes. When he looks up, Jules and I are standing side by side.

We speak at once. The same time I say, “Hi,” Jules says, “How did you know I was back?” And then she rushes into his arms, jumping at the last moment, and wrapping her legs around his waist.

The look on Satcher’s face is one of shock as he stares at me over Jules’ shoulder. I can only imagine what my face must look like.

My mouth suddenly goes dry as the full realization hits me, and it feels like I took a sledgehammer to the stomach. Jules untangles herself from Satcher, landing on her feet but not stepping away from his side. She puts an arm possessively around his waist and turns to beam at me.

“This is him, Billie. I’ve been seeing Satcher.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ireach for words, but they’re slippery, swimming below my ability to articulate them. Satcher is at a loss too; he reaches up to run a hand along the stubble on his chin. Jules is speaking to him, babbling happily, but he’s looking at me and I can’t read what’s in his eyes.

I feel like I’m underwater, everything moving slowly. Even the pains in my heart feel like they’re being dragged along the bottom of the ocean floor. It’s all making sense, of course. He always seemed so comfortable in Jules’ apartment. It had crossed my mind that he always knew where things were, but I’d attributed it to him making lucky guesses. How stupid I’ve been. Why hadn’t he told me he’d been seeing her?

“I’m so hungry,” I hear her say to him. “Want to get lunch so we can talk?” Her eyes are lit up; they’re the eyes of a woman filled with hope for the future.

I don’t wait to hear what he says.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it,” I say. “I need a shower.” I dart from the room before either of them can respond.

I let the hot water pound down on my back until it turns cold, only then do I step out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around myself, I press my ear to the door to hear if they’re still in the apartment. All is quiet. I get dressed in a hurry, grabbing my things from the various places they’ve been left. I don’t want to be here when they get back. I won’t be able to keep my expression neutral. Jules will see it all over my face. I think about texting Satcher, but I don’t know what to say. He looked just as blindsided as I was, expecting to come to lunch with me and running into his former girlfriend instead. As far as I knew, Jules and Satcher had only hung out a few times in our group get-togethers. Both workaholics, it was difficult to get them both in the same room at the same time. Years ago I remember thinking they’d make a great couple, but back then Satcher was fucking his way through the Upper East Side while Jules was married to her job. I wonder how they reconnected. If it had something to do with Woods? But, no, Jules hated Woods; after he cheated on me she said she never wanted to see him again.

Itake a long walk in Central Park and when it’s safely been a few hours, I head back to the apartment. Jules is home when I get back. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see she’s alone. She’s sitting on one of the barstools in pajamas, her hair up in a messy bun. Her laptop sits open in front of her, but the screen has long gone into sleep mode.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi.”

I try to read her mood. She’s relaxed. Neutral. But it could be jet lag. If I ask her how it went without telling her about Satcher and me, I’ve deceived her. I don’t want to do that. I walk toward the bedroom and then remember I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping.

“I cleared out the office,” Jules says. “I’m going to take that until everything is worked out.”

Worked out?

“No way,” I say. “You should have your room. It’s your apartment.”

“Absolutely not. I’m the intruder. We had a deal. Besides, once I start working again I’m hardly home. I don’t need the space.”

I nod, but I’m embarrassed. It doesn’t feel right. Jules turns back to her computer, staring at the dark screen. I should just go to bed, stay out of it, but she looks so forlorn.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Everything okay?”

I hear her sniff; thankfully, it’s not a teary sniff but more of a resolved one.

“Yeah. We’re gonna figure it out. He’s been seeing someone. It just makes me feel sick to know that. Some other woman touching him. What if he loves her?”

I can feel my face going pink. I walk to the fridge, grab two bottles of Perrier, and set one in front of her.

“Actually, can we have something harder? Something that will make this sick feeling in my stomach go away?”

“I think if you want the sick feeling to go away you probably shouldn’t drink.” I laugh. I take back the Perrier and pull out the bottle of Grey Goose instead.

“He said he needs time to think,” she says. “What do you think that means?” Her face is twisted with worry.

I want to hug her, but that will make me feel like a worse person.

“Probably that he needs to think,” I say.

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