“Get Natalie cleaned up,” she said into his ear. “She can borrow some of Violet’s clothes. And then get her out of here.”

His wife hurried after Fern, and for a moment, he watched her go. His daughter was being consoled by her alternative friends, but Natalie stood alone. She hadn’t moved, was still dripping red punch, and crying. She was so pathetic, he almost felt sorry for her. But she was malicious and deranged, had come here to wreck his marriage, to fuck up his relationship with his daughter. She did not deserve his sympathy. But he couldn’t leave her standing there like Carrie on prom night.

Grabbing her hand, he led the tearful girl toward the house.

38

The T-Shirt

It was the word thrown in Nat’s face, not the drink, that rattled her. Fern could not have known that Nat had been paid for sex, could never have guessed that it was Violet’s father who’d compensated her. But somehow, the younger girl had selected the precise word that would undo Natalie. Whore.

She’d stood in shock as Gabe swore, Violet shrieked, and the other kids squealed and gossiped. Violet’s mother, Celeste, had taken control, insisted Fern had to leave, had driven her home. Nat had remained frozen with humiliation and shame, red liquid dripping from her face. And then Gabe had taken her hand, gently but firmly, and led her to the house.

Without a word, he’d escorted her up the stairs, to the second floor, where the family slept. It felt private and intimate and inappropriate for her to be there. But it felt so good to be alone with him. She had always loved how he’d taken control, taken care of her. If it was over between them, why had he rescued her? Why hadn’t he comforted Violet or driven Fern home? As she stood dripping juice and soda and vodka on the hardwood floor, Gabe dug through a linen closet.

“Dry yourself off,” he said, handing her a slate-gray towel.

She complied, wiping the sticky liquid from her face and neck. Her makeup came off on the towel, and she knew she looked a smeared, smudged, tear-streaked mess. Gabe would find her repulsive. Crazy, obsessive, and hideous.

“You have to leave,” he said, his blue eyes cold like they were the day he’d ended it.

“I need to talk to you.”

“If my wife and daughter found out about us, it would destroy them.”

Fresh tears sprang to Nat’s eyes. Violet was a good kid. Her mother had been warm and welcoming. Nat hated herself for what she’d done to them. But it was not her fault. It was Gabe’s fault. He had lied to her. He had cheated on his wife.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”

“I fucked up,” he said softly. “I didn’t think things would get so intense between us.”

It was the first time he’d admitted that they’d had something powerful. She grabbed on to that. “We can work this out, Gabe. We just need to communicate.”