Nathan:
You make this sound like an acquisition.
Vivian:
In our family, there is very little difference.
My hands became cold.
Another message, three weeks after our first date:
Nathan:
She’s smarter than you said. She’ll notice if I ask about the company too quickly.
Vivian:
Then don’t ask. Make her tell you.
Another, six months later:
Nathan:
This is getting complicated.
Vivian:
Because?
Nathan:
Because I actually like her.
I stopped.
That line hurt in a way I could not explain.
I actually like her.
Not love.
Not regret.
Like.
As if affection were an unexpected flaw in the plan.
Sabrina watched me.
“I almost left him when I saw that.”
“You should have.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked ashamed.
“Because he kept telling me he would fix everything after the company recovered.”
I leaned back.
“So I was financing the future the two of you planned together.”
She did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“What happened Friday night?”
Sabrina rubbed her palms against her jeans.
“Vivian told me not to come.”
“But you came anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Nathan had been ignoring me for almost three weeks. I thought he was changing his mind.”
“And was he?”
Her eyes met mine.
“I don’t know.”
That surprised me.
She continued.
“During the reception, he kept watching you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He had just married me.”
“I know.”
“No, Sabrina. You don’t get to make that romantic.”
“I’m not.”
She looked down.
“I’m telling you why I got angry.”
She had drunk several glasses of champagne.
Around one-thirty, she texted Nathan.
She told him if he did not come upstairs to speak to her, she would tell me everything.
Vivian saw the message.
So Vivian created a reason to remove me from the bedroom.
The drunken performance.
The pillow.
The request that I sleep downstairs.
“It was supposed to be ten minutes,” Sabrina said.
“What happened?”
“I came in. Vivian left. Nathan and I argued.”
“In my bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“Beside my wedding dress.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Did you kiss him?”
She paused.
“Yes.”
I looked away.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
I turned back.
For the first time, I saw something in Sabrina’s face that resembled honesty.
She opened her phone.
“I recorded part of the argument.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because I stopped trusting him months ago.”
She pressed play.
Nathan’s voice filled the space between us, quiet but unmistakable.
“Keep your voice down.”
Sabrina answered.
“I waited four years.”
“You knew what this was.”
“I knew what your mother said it was. I didn’t know you were going to stand there looking at her like that.”
“Looking at her like what?”
“Like you meant the vows.”
Silence.
