21

“This is hard, even though you’ve lied to me, about so many things, for so long, Paul.” Mia’s voice cracks and I believe she may be crying. But I cannot break my stare-a-thon with Buck.

“For God’s sake, look at your wife,” Buck says. He shakes his head and loses our match, shifting his gaze to Mia.

I win. I always win.

“Of course. Mia, honey, what are you talking about? What’s so hard? We have a great life,” I say. Now I shift on the couch so I can face her. She is crying—I knew it—and I still don’t know what she’s holding in her hand, but I suppose I’m curious. “What lies are you referring to exactly?”

Mia meets my gaze squarely. “Uncle Derrick? Just tonight. At what was supposed to be our special dinner, you lied. I know you stole that letter, Paul. I know you are investigating the mineral rights. You’re trying to steal them from me.”

Hmm. Mia as Sherlock Holmes. How interesting. The role doesn’t suit her, though; she simply isn’t clever enough.

Well, perhaps she does know more than she lets on, but that’s fine. I was doing what I did for both of us. For the kids. For the future.

I need Buck to leave. Now. “I will not discuss private family matters with a stranger here,” I say. I’m calm, but in charge. The man of the castle. The one in control, as always.

I wait for Buck to move, to leave. But of course, he has his primitive guard dog juices flowing, and he’s not budging.

“I want him to stay,” Mia tells me. “I feel more comfortable if he’s here.”

“‘I feel more comfortable if he’s here,’” I say, mimicking my wife and her miserable weak tone. “Come on. Are you a child? These are private matters, family matters, between a husband and wife, and I refuse to discuss anything further until he’s gone.” I take a sip of brandy and it burns my throat.

“Paul, you need to calm down and allow Mia to speak,” Buck the widower asshole garden gnome says.

“You need to go back to your empty life and leave my wife alone,” I correct him. I am so close to hitting him I can feel it, feel the throbbing pain in my knuckles as they remember the blow for days after like they did when I dropped Greg Boone, another nosy neighbor. I’d aim for his nose, but be happy with knocking out the stupid dimple. “Unless you’re fucking my wife. Then we have other things to discuss.”

“Don’t be crude,” Buck says. He picks up his wineglass and drinks. He doesn’t appear to be leaving.

I should have seen this all along. They are having an affair. And now she is coming clean, telling me everything, even though it was supposed to be our best day ever. That’s fine, though. I suppose I knew it somewhere deep down. Best to air the dirty laundry, get readjusted, and then figure out next steps. I have my plan, and now I know she has one, too. Impressive. Mia has played me perfectly. I’ve fallen into her trap, even as she slipped out of mine. I will not allow her surprises to end the night, though. I will win.

But what exactly does she know?

Mia slides a piece of paper in front of me. I recognize it, of course. It’s the letter from her uncle. The one I opened and hid.

“Recognize this?” she asks. The cottage seems very quiet. I feel Buck lean forward, looking at the document.

“I do. But again, why is he here?” I say. “Why are we discussing a letter from your crazy uncle in front of our neighbor? This is a private family matter, nobody’s business but ours.”

I see Mia send a look to Buck. A look she should be giving me. We’re the team here.

“Look. We can talk about everything once we’re back home,” I say. “It’s late, past eleven. We never stay up this late. I’m calling it a night, and that means you are too, right, honey?” I stand up, feign a yawn and pop my knuckles. It’s a bad habit, a low-class habit, I know.

“Paul, I know you tried to claim my mineral rights, the ones Uncle Derrick wrote to me about,” Mia says, her voice quavering. This is hard for her. Poor Mia. Maybe I’ll tell her a little story, just to calm her down.

“I was just researching things for you, but if you’d like to paint me as a criminal, go ahead,” I say. I walk around the seating area until I’m standing directly behind Buck. His neck is exposed, just within reach if I take a step forward. I can feel his flesh in my hands, his neck snapping nicely.

Mia has become unrecognizable. It’s as if she changed overnight into a sneaky, manipulative woman who hides things from her husband. Meanwhile, Gretchen always treats me nicely. She is the perfect woman for me, I realize at this instant. It all starts with chemistry, which we had that day at her store in the mall. And then it deepens as I test her to see how receptive she is to my rules, my way. Will she pick me over a movie night with her girlfriends, for example?

Gretchen does not disappoint. She’s a better listener than Mia even. She wears skirts and dresses, as I request. She’d never wear ridiculous sweatpants that made her look like a hog. Whenever I spend time with her, she treasures it. Sometimes, after a particularly intimate lovemaking session, she cries when I must leave and go back home. She’s hooked on me like crack. I know she wants more, deserves more of me.

I tell her I love my wife, but Gretchen knows there are issues between Mia and me. I mean, I’m with Gretchen every day, as long as possible. When we aren’t making love, we’re cooking a gourmet lunch together because unlike certain people she’s actually a great cook, or plotting vacations to faraway lands. I tell her stories about television commercial shoots in Hollywood and assure her she’ll come with me the next time I’m on location. I see how her eyes sparkle with those promises. We both know it’s just a matter of time, I guess.

Gretchen is the reason why I’m more comfortable letting Mia go now. I often wonder what she’d think of raising the boys with me, although I haven’t asked her yet. She’d be great, I know. She’s very patient. I’d get her a large home in the suburbs, a different suburb, and we would raise the boys there together. Mia would never see them again.

Oh, I don’t mean that. Don’t worry; it’s the tension I’m feeling with this stranger in our home.

“Paul,” Mia says. “Sit down. Please.”

“I’m tired, Mia. I’ve tried to make this the perfect day, the best day ever, but you’ve insisted on ruining it, every single step of the way. I’m over it. I’ll see you upstairs,” I say. “And he should leave. Now. I’m finished with this little ménage à trois.”

I take a step toward the stairs.