The Comfort of Lies (27 page)

“You’re leaving?” Max’s voice cracked. “Leaving us? Leaving Mom? Are you getting a divorce?”

Why had Nathan chosen this stupid place? Could he have picked a worse place? People pressed close on all sides, and even if he didn’t know any of them, they might recognize him or the boys. Soccer. Little League. Town meetings. Word got around. What if Max cried?

Shit, shit, shit.

Nathan still couldn’t believe Juliette really meant it; that she’d thrown him out.

“You should be the one to tell them,” she’d said. “You made this particular bed.”

Nathan looked at the array of crap in front of them. Huge, frothy drinks filled with cream, chocolate, and caffeine competed for table space with sugary donuts and oversized muffins greasy with butter. Or lard. Without Juliette watching him, he’d probably drop dead of heart disease within a year.

“No, no, we’re not getting divorced. It’s a break,” Nathan said. “Just a break.”

“Bullshit. Since when do families take breaks?” Lucas asked.

“Why do you need a break? How long of a break?” Max chewed at a ragged fingernail. “Where are you going? Why, Daddy?”

Nathan’s chest contracted at hearing Max call him
Daddy,
a word he hadn’t used in years.

“Mom’s making you leave, right?” Lucas asked. “She’s been acting crazy lately.”

“Don’t you dare blame this on me, either,” Juliette had warned. “You want to lie, then lie—you’re good at that.”

“It’s not about Mom. Sometimes adults just need some space.”
Yes, Lucas. It’s bullshit. I have nothing else to offer.

“Space?” Lucas snorted. “That’s what this is about? Space? You’re an asshole.”

Nathan debated taking on Lucas about cursing; neither of his boys had ever sworn at him.

“I know you’re angry, Lucas, but that doesn’t give you license to curse.”

“Asshole,” Lucas repeated.

“I don’t understand,” Max said.

“So if Max and I say we want some space, do we get to walk out?” Lucas banged the fleshy part of his palm hard against the table. The elderly couple next to them looked up. Nathan sent them an apologetic smile.
You know how boys are
, his grin said.

“Your mother and I have been married a long time. Sometimes, in these situations, people need a breather.”

“You need a ‘breather’ from Mom?” Lucas made finger quotes in the air. “This just gets better and better.”

“Not a breather from Mom.”

“Then who? Us?” Lucas swept his hair from his eyes. Nathan saw how muscled he’d become; how close Lucas was to being a man. Nathan didn’t want to leave his sons.

“No, no, never from you,” he said.

“What’s left? The house? You want to get away from the house? The yard? The car? The driveway? What the fuck is it, Dad?” Lucas was crying. He’d worried about Max breaking down, but not Lucas. Jesus, how had he done this to his boy?

“Come on, guys. Let’s go.” Nathan stood. He leaned over Lucas, placing an arm around his shoulders. Lucas got up, pulling away from Nathan with a dismissive shrug. Max stood close to his brother.

Nathan guided his sons outside. Once in the warm air, he had no idea where to go, what to say.
Yeah, boys, I need to get away from that old driveway. The yard and I need some time apart.

Lucas was right. He was an asshole.

 • • • 

A week later, Nathan was living at a hotel. He hated it. He felt as though the staff judged him each time he came and went, as if they knew he was staying at the Royal Sonesta because he’d failed his wife.

Feeling his mother’s eyes on him, he cleaned his room for the maid, so she wouldn’t think him an awful slob. He didn’t want to make her job any harder by leaving toothpaste in the sink. Now, even though it was evening, and there would be no maid coming, Nathan rushed around putting his dirty laundry in a bag. Chores made for one less empty minute.

It was already well past seven. Tia expected him at seven thirty, and the Cambridge hotel was at least a half-hour drive from her apartment. He grabbed his car keys from the hotel water glass on the bureau.

The last time he’d been at a hotel without Juliette, he’d been with Tia, the first time they slept together. Nathan and Tia drove the hour from Waltham, to be as far as possible from prying eyes, to an anonymous box built for businessmen and tourists.

They had fallen on each other the moment the door shut behind them. Whoever said the first time wasn’t good had discounted the was-great parts. Maybe he’d been too fast, and maybe they were clumsy, their bodies crashing against each other, but frantic hunger outshone the awkward moments.

Tia’s body had amazed him, all tight muscle. Having all that and then going home to Juliette’s lushness had been an embarrassment of riches.

There was nothing justifiable about his time with Tia, except that it had felt good, great, and he’d chosen not to deny himself. When he met Tia, six years ago, Lucas had been nine and Max was four. Life had become a round of chores piling upon chores, at home, at work—even visits to his parents were filled with carrying enough baggage to care for a tiny country comprised of two small pashas, with his parents offering their worship in the form of adoration, pushing yet more stuff—toys, books, clothes—on Juliette and him to cram in the car for the ride home.

Not that he slept with Tia because his parents doted on the kids. God, the thought made him sound appalling. But he’d gone from feeling as though he were on the edge of conquering the world—marriage to his stunning Juliette, a prestigious professorship, publishing his studies—to spending weekends doing laundry
and following Max and Lucas around the playground while Juliette caught up with work she’d put to the side all week.

Not that he blamed her for a moment. But his father had remained the center of his mother’s world, even as she made room on that pedestal for Nathan, and he’d thought it would be the same in his marriage.

With Tia, he’d gone from being the daddy who was secretly sick of reading Caldecott Medal–winning illustrated children’s books to Max, and
Harry Potter
to Lucas, and from the husband tired of washing dishes after the dinners Juliette cooked, to appearing handsome, smart, and exciting. Even as it frightened him, what a god Tia seemed to think him. The young woman’s adoration became addictive. He felt in love with her loving him.

It sickened him, but if Nathan took up some retrospective truthfulness, they both fell in love with him.

Now, after working as long as possible, he burned time in the mall across from the hotel. He’d roamed from one chain to another: Sears, Yankee Candle, Swarovski—who knew there were so many ways to throw away money—looking for the store selling something that could make Juliette happy. Make her speak to him. If he bought her a crystal flask, would a genie emerge and grant him forgiveness?

Then he’d come back to his hotel room and call Juliette, begging to come home. Every night she threw another ultimatum his way:

“Make it right with Tia, so we never hear from her again.”

“Find out if you love her.”

“Convince me, Nathan. Convince me it’s truly over.”

But she didn’t provide a single clue as to how he was supposed to make any of these things happen.

Finally, he’d called Tia.

 • • • 

“You’re here.” Tia’s two-word greeting sounded wary. She stood in front of the apartment door with her arms crossed over her small chest.

“Are you going to let me in?” Nathan asked.

She gave a crooked half smile and stepped aside just enough to let him squeeze past. Waves of fresh shower scent washed over him, but her fragrance was unfamiliar. A different soap, something sharp and lemony, not the flowery scent in which he’d once become lost.

Her hair stuck up in angry points, shorter than it had ever been. When they’d been together, her almost-black hair covered her head like thick mink, a cap revealing her vulnerable neck. She’d worn red lipstick and nothing else. Now, black and blue outlined her eyes. Her tight body, formerly draped in gauze and silk, looked scrawny under a black tank top and jeans.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“Can we sit down?”

“I’m not sure. Are you here because she sent you?”

“No.”

She stepped aside. He walked into the living room and sat in a battered-looking chair. Tia followed, her anxiety apparent in the forward thrust of her shoulders.

“Can we just talk?” he asked. “No bull?”

She fell on the couch and crossed her legs.

“I’m expecting somebody,” Tia said. “We don’t have a long time.”

“Who?” Nathan immediately regretted the jealous-sounding word.

“Who?” Her sudden sweet smile reminded him how it felt to care for her; vulnerability he could hardly afford.

“None of my business,” he said. “Sorry.”

Tia should hate him. It would make all this easier for both of them. He could do nothing worse than open her up to caring.

“I admit that I was a coward.” Nathan chose his words with effort, working to avoid mentioning Juliette and still include everything his wife had demanded as the price for his return. “I deserve nothing and should get even less. That said, we need to talk about . . . everything.”

He scrambled his questions into an order least likely to anger Tia. He took a deep breath and tried to speak like a normal person. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’ve met someone.” Now she leaned forward. “I think it’s serious. I told him about Honor.”

“Did you tell him about us?”

“I told him about you. There is no ‘us.’ ”

“What did you say about me?”

She fell back against the couch cushion. “For God’s sake, what do you care? Anyway, he wanted to know about Honor, not about you.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s a good man.”

“Good. I’m happy.” He was. “What does he think about you having a daughter?”

“He’s great about it.”

Tia’s clear subtext was
unlik
e
you.
“I want to see her,” he said.

“I’m not sure if I care what you want anymore,” she said. She chewed her lip too hard for him to believe her.

“Is my name on the birth certificate?” he asked.

She didn’t say anything.

“Is it?” he asked again.

“ ‘Take care of this for me, Tia.’ That’s all you offered me. Now you need me? I have nothing to give.”

“Why did you let me come, then?”

“I’m not sure.” She stared at him with that searching look he’d hated when they were together, a look that meant
What about us? Do you love me enough? Want me enough? Will you care for me?

He didn’t look away. Wasn’t he supposed to find this out? “Do you love her?” Juliette had asked. “Does she love you?”

Had he ever loved her? She’d popped into his life, twenty-four years old and from a different world, exotic to him, sexy, and thrilled to work on his research study. He’d never expected to sleep with her. When he did, his only excuse was desire. She drove him crazy. When Tia fell in love with him, he tried to convince himself that he was in love with her, not just crazy in lust. It made him feel less disgusted about his choices.

“How do I find my daughter?” Nathan asked. “Please. How can I see the parents?”

“
Go see her
,” Juliette had said.

“
How?
” he’d asked.

“
You figured out how to conceive her without me. Now figure out how to see her.
” Juliette had insisted that he meet his daughter but refused to give her the information to complete the mission.

Nathan couldn’t imagine where to start. Was he supposed to find their number, call them out of the blue, walk in, and demand to meet his daughter?

“Ask your wife,” Tia said.

Nathan couldn’t read her true intent. She looked heartbroken. He walked over to the couch, sat beside her, and took her hand. “Please. Let’s not play any more games.”

She shook her hand from his. “I think you should leave.” She turned her head, but he heard the tears clogging her words.

“Tia, I’m sorry.” Nathan moved closer. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

CHAPTER 26

Caroline

Caroline closed the lid of her briefcase, pushing down to make it latch. She had about ten journals to read when she got home, plus a file bulging with memos, and, most important, she needed to go over notes for a presentation she’d be making, “The Effects of Chemotherapy in Combination with Focal Therapy on Intraocular Retinoblastoma to Avoid Enucleation and Radiotherapy.” Just reading the title exhausted her. She could easily sink into her desk chair and close her eyes, but she’d promised Savannah she’d be home on time, and she was going to do it.

Her phone rang just as she’d finished arranging neat piles of papers for the next day. Jonah’s name appeared on caller ID, an unwelcome sight. After a moment of hesitation, she reached for the phone. She’d never answered his email. She didn’t even remember giving him her phone number, but she supposed that finding her at the hospital wasn’t difficult.

“Jonah.” Caroline greeted him with his name.

“Surprised?” Jonah paused. Caroline heard him swallow.

“I am.”

“I’d really like to see you.”

“Are you drinking?” Caroline asked.

“A little. Just enough.”

“Just enough for what?”

“Just enough to call you and tell you how much I’m thinking about you.”

He slurred his words. Caroline wanted him off the phone. Now. “Jonah? It’s never going to happen.”

“I sense that you’re unhappy. Like me. Maybe we can help each other.”

“Jonah, go see your wife.”

 • • • 

Caroline arrived home in a positive frame of mind, her exhaustion lifted, determined that she and Peter could work things out. Stress gave him those crazy ideas, like her leaving her job. Maybe they’d take a family vacation.

The house smelled of lemon polish and whatever treats Nanny Rose and Savannah had spent the afternoon baking. Oatmeal cookies?

The quiet house gave no clue to her daughter’s whereabouts. She peeked into the playroom, the kitchen—already cleaned, and she was correct about the oatmeal cookies—Savannah’s room. All were empty. Crunching a cookie she’d picked up from a flowered plate on the counter, Caroline wandered into the backyard.