Chương 10
Evelyn looked at her.
“I didn’t know I could put my hand on someone because I wanted them to obey me.”
“Now you know.”
“That’s all you have?”
“What would you like?”
“I don’t know. Something that makes it less permanent.”
Evelyn sat beside her.
“There isn’t anything.”
Serena’s eyes filled.
Her mother took her hand but did not tell her everything would be all right.
Daniel spent the night at Uncle Robert’s house.
Anna had already gone there with Claire, occupying the small guest room that still contained Daniel’s childhood baseball trophies and a broken floor lamp Robert kept meaning to repair. Aunt Louise brought leftovers from the wedding and arranged them in the refrigerator by size.
No one mentioned that the food came from a reception without a marriage.
At ten thirty, Daniel found Anna in the kitchen eating cake directly from a plastic container.
“Is that ours?” he asked.
“It was.”
He took a fork from the drawer.
Anna pushed the container toward him.
The cake was lemon with blackberry filling. Serena had chosen it after three tastings. Daniel had preferred chocolate but had said he did not care. Standing barefoot in his uncle’s kitchen, he realized how often not caring had meant leaving Serena alone with decisions and later resenting the importance she assigned them.
“This is good,” he said.
“It cost nine hundred dollars.”
“It tastes like forty.”
“Cake inflation.”
He leaned against the counter.
Anna wore an oversized T-shirt Claire had brought from the hotel gift shop and a pair of borrowed sweatpants. The cold pack sat beside the sink.
“How’s your wrist?”
“Sore.”
“Did you take anything?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
She held it out.
The mark had darkened at two points beneath the thumb.
Daniel looked away first.
“Don’t do that,” Anna said.
“What?”
“Make a face like you failed a test.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
He put his fork down.
“You’re very unpleasant after midnight.”
“It’s ten thirty.”
“It feels later.”
Uncle Robert entered wearing plaid pajama pants and stopped when he saw them.
“There are six people sleeping in this house,” he said. “And somehow both of you are eating the only thing worth having tomorrow.”
“There’s salmon,” Anna said.
“There is never a morning when salmon improves the situation.”
He took a fork.
They stood around the container in silence.
Robert tasted the cake. “Forty-dollar cake.”
“Thank you,” Daniel said.
“You’re welcome.”
Robert looked at Anna’s wrist but did not ask. He rinsed his fork and left.
Daniel smiled faintly.
“He practiced that,” Anna said.
“What?”
“Not asking.”
“He’s trying.”
“I know.”
Daniel ate another bite.
“Serena and I are meeting tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“The apartment.”
“You should meet somewhere neutral.”
“It’s our home.”
“That’s why it isn’t neutral.”
He considered this. “Coffee shop?”
“You can’t decide whether to marry someone while a barista calls out oat milk.”
“Therapist?”
“Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Then probably not by tomorrow.”
Daniel closed the cake container.
“What about Claire’s office?”
“She works at a dental practice.”
“There are chairs.”
“And suction tubes.”
He laughed despite himself.
Anna put the container in the refrigerator.
“Go to the apartment,” she said. “Just don’t confuse being at home with being safe.”
“You’ve become alarmingly wise.”
“I’m twenty-two. It’s probably temporary.”
She started toward the hallway.
“Anna.”
She turned.
“I’m not getting married tomorrow.”
“That seems logistically sound.”
“I mean I’m not rescheduling anything until I know.”
“Good.”
He hesitated. “Do you think Mom would hate me if I still married her?”
Anna’s face tightened.
“That is exactly what you keep doing.”
He looked down.
“Sorry.”
“Mom doesn’t get a vote.”
“I know.”
“Neither do I.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Daniel met her eyes.
“I’m learning.”
Anna nodded and went to bed.
The next morning, the video passed fifty thousand views.
By noon, it had been copied onto multiple platforms, slowed down, zoomed in, and paired with commentary from strangers. Some claimed Serena had broken Anna’s wrist. Others invented an affair between Anna and the pianist who had not been present. One account identified the wrong hotel. Another posted photographs from Serena’s professional website and called her a narcissistic social climber.
Serena worked as an architect at a midsize firm. Her biography page was removed after the office began receiving messages.
Her managing partner called at eight fifteen.
“We’re not making any judgment about your personal life,” he said. “But because the firm has been tagged repeatedly, we need you to work from home while communications handles it.”
“For how long?”
“A few days.”
“Am I suspended?”
“No.”
“Then put that in writing.”
A pause.
“I can email you.”
“Please.”
After the call, Serena sat at the kitchen island in the apartment she shared with Daniel. Wedding gifts lined one wall in unopened boxes. A stand mixer. Wineglasses. Towels embroidered with a V.
At nine, Daniel entered with a small overnight bag.
He stopped when he saw the boxes.
Serena followed his gaze. “They were delivered yesterday morning.”
“I forgot.”
“So did I.”
He placed his bag by the door but did not remove his coat.
“You can sit,” she said.
“I know.”
He sat at the far end of the island.
Serena had changed into dark pants and a gray sweater. Her hair was tied back. Without bridal makeup, the exhaustion beneath her eyes looked almost bruised.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“No.”
“I made too much.”
“I’m fine.”
She poured herself another cup anyway.
Daniel took out his phone and placed it on the counter.
“I want to record this conversation.”
Serena looked at him. “Why?”
“Because I don’t trust our memories right now.”
“Or because you’re preparing for legal action?”
“We’re not married.”
“We have joint accounts. A lease. Deposits.”
“I know.”
She wrapped both hands around the cup.
“If you’re recording, I want my phone recording too.”
“That’s fine.”
They started both devices and placed them between them.
May you like
The small red indicators made the conversation feel less honest before it had begun.
Daniel said, “Tell me what you want.”
