Page 122 of Reckless Hearts
I close the bedroom door carefully behind me just as there’s a knock on the door.
“It’s open,” I say.
Saskia lets herself in. Her eyes are rimmed with red, mascara smudged in dark half-moons beneath them. Her knuckles are white as she clutches the strap of her handbag.
She puts her handbag down on the coffee table with a thud, then reaches out to hug me.
“I’m so glad my best friend is in the country right now.” Her voice comes out shaky.
Fuck. She’s a mess.
With my arm around her shoulder, I lead her to the sofa farthest from the bedroom.
“What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“You’re not going to believe it.”
“I live in LA. Trust me, I’ve seen everything,” I say quietly.
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re an undercover agent and you’re afraid the potted plants are bugged by the KGB.”
“I…ah…” I glance at the closed bedroom door, but it’s enough to clue Saskia in.
“Do you have someone here?”
I swallow. “Ah, yeah. I do.”
A smirk slides on her face. “Is it a hookup?”
“Yeah. And he’s asleep, so, just, like…voices down.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
Her smirk disappears and Saskia looks uncharacteristically fragile.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Not really.” She wipes a hand across her face, smearing her mascara further, leaving dark streaks across her cheeks like war paint. “I’m fairly sure my husband is having an affair.”
“What?”
It all comes pouring out. Tom’s late nights at work, his vague explanations about client meetings that never quite add up, leaving gaping holes in his schedule that he refuses to account for.
I lean forward to retrieve a box of tissues from the coffee table, and she angrily mops at the tears leaking down her face.
“It’s such a fucking cliché. I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
It does seem unbelievable. My best friend, with her perfectly polished nails, her perfectly put-together life.
“You don’t know anything for sure yet,” I say. “You actually need to talk to him.”
“I know I do,” she hiccups. “But I’m scared. Because, at the moment, it could all be my imagination, right? If he confirms it, then it’s real. And I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“I know it’s scary, but imagine how much worse it’ll be if you let this uncertainty eat away at you. You need answers, one way or another.”
