Page 80 of The Marriage Game

I really do enjoy hearing myself talk.

Aren’t l lucky that I married someone who likes to listen to me do so?

My heart swells with affection for Max, and I grasp the feeling, determined to remember the sensation of it on those inevitable hard days.

Of course, even though we have worked through so much these last few days, we’re both unsure how to handle this meeting with Dorothy. We still don’t want to be in her next book, but continuing the charade that she’s made us worse feels icky after Hannah’s heartfelt confession last night.

Hence my nerves.

This is a delicate situation.

But I suppose Max and I may just have to make our wishes known. We don’t want to be in her book. Hopefully she’s willing to honor that. And if not, well, we can at least threaten a lawsuit. That should give her some pause.

We take our seats across from Dorothy, who smiles then declares, “Let’s begin with a word of prayer, shall we?”

Max and I both nod, then all three of us bow our heads and fold our hands.

Dorothy prays over our food, then over our time together.

“Amen,” Max and I say along with her.

Then comes our reckoning.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming before, but as soon as we open our eyes from praying I see the glint in Dorothy’s eyes. Somehow, inexplicably, she’s onto us. The smirk on her face tells me so.

That and the picture she placed on the table while our eyes were closed.

“Care to explain?” she asks.

Under the table Max’s hand finds mine.

For a reckoning I will say this one isn't so bad. In fact, as I look at the picture, I find myself fighting laughter.

“You think this is funny?” Dorothy draws up an eyebrow. “Walter is a beloved family pet, Jill. One who has been extensively trained not to come into this building.”

Oh goodness. I’m going to laugh. I know I shouldn’t. I’m being reprimanded, after all. And I do feel bad that we messed with Walter’s training. His owners probably feel the way I did back when Hannah lived with us, and I came home to find her snuggling Goldie on the couch. Goldie wasn’t allowed on the living room furniture.

I was pretty upset with Hannah.

But also, it was really cute. I almost started letting her up on the furniture after that. Almost.

“I’m very sorry,” Max says, selflessly leaving me out since the photo–a picture of him with Walter in his arms–only incriminates him. “I’ll apologize to the owners.”

Dorothy’s severe expression waivers. “You do that,” she says, but she can’t hold our gaze.

Next to me Max leans forward. “Wait, do I need to apologize to them or is there something you’re not saying?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Dorothy squeaks.

“Dorothy, I’ve been a lawyer for twenty years, I can tell when people are hiding something or lying. And right now you’re doing both.”

Dorothy’s eyes flash his way. “Fine!” she exclaims. “You’re right. I’m lying. You don’t need to apologize to the owners because they’re quite happy about the incident. Apparently one of the other guests posted a video of Walter in the hallway on their social media and the post went crazy. They had an influx of bookings last night and this morning, all people wanting to come meet Walter.”

“Wow.” Max sits back in his chair, looking pleased. “Well, that’s great. We’re glad our little stunt didn’t cause them any trouble then.”

“Ha!” It’s Dorothy’s turn to lean forward. “Yourlittle stunt! I knew it! I knew this wasn’t just Max working alone! The two of you did this–together!” The glint of satisfaction is back in her eyes. “Because the two of you weren’t really fighting last night, were you? Instead you were up to some sort of hijinks that I can’t even begin to fathom the meaning of. I have ideas, sure, but each one seems more far-fetched than the last! Perhaps you found out about Hannah and Luke giving you two their free counseling sessions, and you were upset about it–just as she predicted you would be if you found out. Or perhaps the two of you were simply trying to get in touch with your inner youth by engaging in a prank. Maybe,” she points to Max, “since your wife doesn’twant you to run for attorney general, you’re looking for a career change. One that involves working with animals. Or maybe,” she looks at me now, “you simply couldn’t handle me knowing that you’re not perfect, so you decided to stage some epic fight in hopes that the whole thing would come out and you could act as if you’d been faking the entire time. Every last fight I witnessed a ruse to–” she breaks off, seeming unsure where to take this last one. Ironic given that it’s the closest to the truth; we did stage our fight, though not for the reason she guessed.

“Anyway,” Dorothy smooths a hand down her shirt, her voice resuming its usual even cadence, “clearly I couldn’t figure out the meaning of your actions, so maybe you two could clear the whole thing up for me. I’d love to know why you staged that fight yesterday then turned around and snuck the ranch dog into the lodge. Surely you can tell me. Give me the satisfaction of at least wrapping up the mystery since I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave this retreat with the satisfaction of knowing I helped your marriage.”

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