like I always tell her, you do you, babe. I love Lynn to death, and I wouldn’t’ve dreamed of throwing a party without her.
“Where’s that handsome husband of yours?” Lynn asked, in a booming voice that made the other guests turn to look. She still talked with that old Lawn Guyland brogue, too, that I’d worked hard to get rid of, and that was nails-on-a-blackboard to everybody else in that room.
“Flight delay.”
“Yeah, right. Too good to show up for his own party is more like it.”
“Somebody has to pay for the house.”
“Ahright, I’ll zip it. But when I see him, I’m giving him a piece of my mind. Now, which way is the bar?”
Lynn started a trend by asking about Jason. The next guy through the door was Peter Mertz, Jason’s boss at the hedge fund, and instead of nodding politely when I said Jason was running late, he started probing. Why wasn’t Jason in New York? Why was he stuck in Cleveland? When I said he was there on a deal, Peter raised an eyebrow and said, Really? Really?—like he didn’t believe me. He basically implied that Jason was lying, or else I was. And yes, okay, it so happened that we both were lying. But that didn’t make it any less rude for Peter to call me on it in front of my guests.
After that, I couldn’t stand there watching the door any longer. I made an excuse and went out to the tent. Fresh air, fresh alcohol. But I couldn’t get that encounter out of my mind. Was Peter trying to tell me something by calling me out like that? Did he know something I didn’t, or more precisely, something I suspected but was praying was not true? In other words, did he know my husband was having an affair? Did everyone know but me? My cheeks were burning at this point. I felt humiliated. But little did I know, the festivities were just getting started.
I’m an experienced hostess, and I normally wouldn’t drink at my own party. But as time went by, and Jason still didn’t show, I guess I had a few more than I intended. By the way, I was drinking the signature cocktail of the night, a Moscow mule, which the caterer offered passed on trays. So, when the waiters walked by, I’d grab one. What I’m saying is, I don’t recall going up to the bar in the tent that night. Not once. Aidan tended bar at my party. I found that out later, but I didn’t know it at the time. I never saw him there, and I certainly didn’t hire him myself. Caterers bring their own staff. Everybody knows that.
Anyway, Jason.
I was talking, probably too loudly, to this woman who was a contributing writer for Dwell magazine, when Lynn walked up and snatched the drink right out of my hand.
“Hey!”
“Excuse us,” Lynn said to the woman, and yanked me away.
“What the hell. I was networking.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors, getting sloppy at your own party. But at least now I know why.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Jason’s here, and he’s with a woman. A real piece a’ work, too.”
The room went dark. I had to grab Lynn’s arm to steady myself. Everything had been so normal until two nights ago. And now my life was in smoldering ruins around me.
“Where?” I asked.
“Inside, in the living room.”
“Since when?”
“A few minutes. Why didn’t you tell me he’s having an affair? You know I’d go after that son of a bitch.”
“He actually brought someone here? To my house, to my party? I can’t believe he’d do that to me.”
“I’ll have Joe deck him if you want. Or I’ll do it myself.”
“No. You stay here. Distract people. They can’t know about this.”
“It’s too late, hon. Nobody could miss this chick.”
I walked away in a daze, heading for the living room. I had to find Jason, but I had no idea what I’d do when I did. Yell, scream, kick him out? Cry, beg? This didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like us. Meanwhile, the guests were all watching me. I’d dreamed of throwing a party they’d talk about for years. And now they would, but for all the wrong reasons.
5
Heading for the house was the longest walk of my life. I was thinking, This can’t be happening. We’re not those people. We’re teammates, best friends. We’re inseparable. But then I thought, We’re not inseparable. We used to be, but not anymore. This had been a long time coming, actually. Hannah was a preemie, high-strung, not popular in school. I sweated parenting her. Maybe—I’ll be honest—maybe I loved her more than I loved my husband. Anyway, she sucked up all the attention. My life revolved around her. Volunteering at her school. Homework and dance lessons and her social life. Her clothes and her hairstyles and whether she’d go to summer camp. Her college applications. On top of that, yes—the house, the apartment, my Pilates class, my nutty sister who had plenty of drama of her own. None of it was about him. Maybe he felt slighted, or ignored, and so he did what men do. He looked elsewhere.
But then I thought, Hell no. This isn’t my fault. I don’t deserve this. I made that man. Jason was nobody when he met me. Meeting him now, you’d think he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the way he dresses and talks and carries himself. Well, I’ve got news for you—that was all me. That was Caroline, telling Jason what to do, and how to behave, over a period of twenty years. It was hard work, too. When I met him, he was working two jobs, scraping by, struggling to pay for school. He had those dark, chiseled good looks, and he was smart. I saw the potential. But he was rough around the edges. I was the one with the drive, the vision, and, yes, the cold hard cash. I put Jason through business school, or he never would be the tycoon he is today. I used the money Dad left me to do it, blood money, that I lost siblings over. Everything Jason Stark has, every penny, is because of my sacrifice. And yet, he goes and cheats, right when our daughter left, when I’m so alone.
That bastard.
That’s how I was feeling as I walked back to the house. I was furious. I admit that.
Inside, I looked around the living room, but there was no sign of him. It was late, and the crowd was starting to thin out. I walked up to my friend Stacey Allen, whose daughter Grace went to high school with my Hannah, and whose lawyer husband, Josh, represents Jason’s firm. And I didn’t have to say a word. Stacey already knew. She knew who I was looking for, and she pointed at the door.
“He went outside a few minutes ago, with a woman. Caroline, what the hell’s going on?”
Stacey has one of those very expressive faces—wide-eyed, with big features—and it brimmed with pity for me, mixed with excitement, and a subtle touch of schadenfreude. People thought I had such a perfect life. To have something like this befall me would naturally be titillating, and Stacey could spread gossip like wildfire. By tomorrow morning, my entire social circle would know about Jason’s affair, whether I’d invited them to the party or not. As the realization sunk in, my head literally went hot, as if steam was coming out of it, like in the cartoons. I’ll kill that asshole, I thought. Stacey’s eyebrows shot up into her carefully trimmed bangs, and I realized I’d said that out loud. Well, screw her and her ladylike shock. I have the Logan temper. We say things.
“It’s a figure of speech,” I said.
“Of course.”
“Who is she? Do we know her?” I asked, because that was the biggest thing on my mind at that moment. Was Jason doing it with somebody I knew? That would make it so much worse.
Stacey shook her head. “I doubt you’d know her, and you definitely didn’t invite her. She crashed.”
“How could you tell?”
“Jason showed up first, alone. I tried to say hi,