The New Husband(10)



Then the strange darkness gave way to a more familiar anger. Simon took two giant steps forward and snatched the clicker from my hand, quick as a frog’s tongue grabbing a fly. I let out a cry of surprise, causing Daisy to bark with alarm.

“Give it back!” I shouted, springing from the couch like I hadn’t quit gymnastics years ago.

Simon jerked the remote up and out of my reach, and with a push of a button, off went the TV.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” I screamed at him, feeling my face grow hot. I went storming up the stairs, stomping on each step as I went, and Daisy, dear, faithful Daisy, followed me into my bedroom, where I slammed the door and waited for my mom to come home.





CHAPTER 6


All of the endorphins Nina had built up during her strenuous barre workout with Susanna and Ginny vanished in a jiffy as soon as she set foot inside her new home. Maggie, who must have heard Nina pull into the driveway, bellowed for her mother to come upstairs. Simon was blocking the stairs like police caution tape, a silent warning that she wouldn’t like what she’d find up there.

“What is going on?” Nina asked, speaking loudly to be heard over Maggie’s urgent pleas.

Connor groaned and executed a textbook eye roll. “That girl’s got more drama than an acting school,” he said, tossing his dirty duffel bag to the floor.

“That,” Nina said, pointing at the foul-smelling object, “needs to be emptied out. Dirty things in the hamper; cleats on the back porch.” Nina redirected her finger at Connor. “And you stay out of it. Get started on your homework before dinner.”

Connor skulked away, muttering something obviously unpleasant about his little sister.

“What is going on?” Nina asked again. She unconsciously adopted a defensive posture, arms folded across her chest as if to shield herself from the coming unpleasantness. She was still in her Lululemon workout ensemble, a carryover from the years when she’d felt secure enough financially to afford the luxury. If it weren’t for Ginny and her seemingly unending supply of guest passes, Nina would have had to give up her barre workouts long ago. She was well aware Simon had money, more than a teacher should have—family money, he had explained rather vaguely, giving her the impression his deceased wife (will? life insurance?) factored into that equation. His reluctance to share any details kept her from prying.

Nina maintained her own checking account with an ever-dwindling balance. She had valid concerns about tying her finances to another person after Glen had left her and the kids nearly destitute to fund a different life she knew nothing about. Even so, Simon had been generous with his money, even putting Nina on his checking account in case something ever happened to him, or so he had said. But Nina wasn’t going to ask him to pay for her workouts, not if she could help it.

As Simon explained the tiff with Maggie, Nina took a sharp inhale and held her breath. She could see why her daughter had reacted so strongly.

“I just wanted you to remind her to shut it off, not demand it,” Nina said.

But the hard look Simon returned suggested a different narrative.

“No, you were very clear with me that the TV must be shut off at six. Those were your instructions exactly.”

But were they? Nina scratched at the recesses of her mind, trying to locate the precise words she’d spoken, but what had seemed so clear moments ago was now as murky as the lake that had seemingly swallowed Glen. Had she issued Simon a mandate? She understood the power dynamics at play, and it would have been unfair of her to put Simon in such a position. Of course Maggie would have battled back, if for no other reason than to make the point that Simon had no authority over her.

“I don’t believe that’s what I told you,” Nina said. “And if I did, you should know you have to be gentle with her. She’s very fragile right now.”

“Which is why I specifically asked if you were sure that’s what you wanted me to do,” Simon said. “I know how young people think, Nina,” he reminded her.

Again, Nina thought back to the conversation she’d had with Simon while rushing out the door. Ginny, waiting in the driveway, had given a second warning honk that they’d soon be late for the afternoon exercise class. Meanwhile, the house was still a mess, and Nina couldn’t find a tank top to wear. It was entirely conceivable that in the rush and chaos she’d issued Simon a mandate that had set him up to fail.

From the start of their relationship Simon had been nothing but generous, empathetic, and almost superhumanly in tune with her feelings and needs. Most important, she loved the way he loved her. It was like that first dinner he had cooked for her (eggplant rollatine), the first present he’d bought (an opal necklace, a perfect choice), the TV shows and movies he’d wanted to watch that she did, too, the music he listened to—all of it perfectly aligned with her tastes and desires, as if the universe itself were sending signals to let her know she’d made the right choice. So if there was fault to pass around here, Nina considered it quite possible that it rested squarely on her shoulders.

In fact, in their brief history together there had been no fights, no misunderstandings, not even any minor tiffs for her to reference. The toilet seat was never left up. His clothes were never scattered about—or worse, dropped on the floor four inches from the hamper. He kept his side of the bathroom cleaner than Nina’s, as was his nature, and anytime he borrowed her car, it always came back with a full tank of gas.

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