Killer Summer, Lynda Curnyn [books suggested by bill gates .txt] 📗

when he said he was going to Gabriella’s that night to take care of Sophia, who had come down with a virus. Not that I had anything against his daughter, except for those times she kept me from being with him.

Then my big dinner plan fell apart, and I nearly fell to pieces. I think I managed to alienate everyone that night. Sage, who I’d blasted for jumping ship on me. Tom, who was disappointed to come home and find his wife standing frozen with indecision over a half-made meal. Only Nick seemed to have any sympathy for me, offering me an ear when I sobbed out all my misguided anger at my husband, and then suggesting that perhaps he and I have a nice dinner together at The Inn.

I was heartened by Nick’s invitation, because really, that record label he had told me about weeks earlier was the only dream I had left, now that I feared the future I had hoped for with Vince was over. I could start anew, I thought, putting my sauce aside to finish once Zoe arrived with the coriander. After taking a quick shower, I felt better. So much better, I even threw on a dress. It was, after all, Saturday night. And I was still young enough to enjoy it.

But not strong enough, I realized when I walked to The Inn and saw Vmce’s boat at the dock.

All I could see was the lie. He was supposed to be with his daughter that night. I wondered how many lies he had told me. By the time I got to his house, I had convinced myself that he was there with Gabriella. That this was all a plot to earn enough money to win back his wife and child. He had told me often enough, after his divorce, how bitter he was that his wife deserted him when he was at his worst.

But if he was surprised to see me, I was even more surprised to discover he was alone, looking just as handsome as the day I met him and a bit bewildered by my attitude. I was so relieved to see him alone, I was ready to accept anything he told me, within limits. Of course the error had come from the tannery. It made perfect sense once Vince explained it all to me over a glass of wine. But when Vince suggested we keep this indiscretion from Tom, something in me rebelled. Vince claimed he wanted to protect his relationship with the tannery, which spurred in me an opposing desire to protect my husband. Maybe it was the pang of jealousy I felt when Vince emphasized his close ties to the Lorenzo family. After all, could those ties be greater than those he felt for the woman he professed to love?

Or maybe it was my realization that as much as I loved Vince, I couldn’t betray Tom in the one area of his life that mattered most to him. My husband’s business was everything to him. Compromising that could destroy him. And as much as I wanted something for myself, my urge to protect Tom in that moment was greater.

I insisted that he tell Tom everything. And I’ll admit that I saw something flicker in Vince’s eyes when he saw my allegiance to Tom.“Don’t you trust me?” he had asked. “Of course,” I had replied carefully, feeling that trust already begin to fade. But any doubts I felt were dispelled when Vince promised to talk to Tom in the morning.

I should have realized then that I wouldn’t live to see the next morning. But I was too far gone at that point. Hopped up on one too many Valiums I’d taken to soothe my state of mind, and positively pliant by the time we finished that bottle of wine in Vince’s living room. He looked so precious to me in that moment, gazing into my eyes with what I thought was love.

“I guess I should take you home,” he said, and even looked sad at the idea. We had just stepped out onto the beach to make our way back, and as I looked up at the waves crashing on the shore, the moon high in the sky, I realized I didn’t want to go home to my husband. I wanted to spend this night with Vince. Maybe some part of me understood that something between us had ended that night. Maybe I wanted to hold on to what I thought was still left.

We kissed for a long time, standing there as if neither of us wanted to let go. But then Vince did let go, a smile lighting his eyes as he yanked his shirt over his head. I was scared immediately—and I wish now that I had trusted that instinct. We had always been so discreet, and though the idea of making love on that beach pulled at me, it was too dangerous.

But Vince didn’t want to make love. Instead, he dared me into the water with him. I laughed at him at first, feeling shy. I wasn’t, after all, the kind of woman who would do something so spontaneous, so free, as to strip down to nothing and plunge into the ocean.

But I was once, I remembered. Before I became Maggie Lan-don, trophy wife, I was that kind of girl.

The water was so cold I swam into Vince’s arms, seeking warmth. Then shivered when I saw the light in his eyes was gone, leaving only hate.

I guess Vince was right. You never really do know someone, do you?

I should have fought him. Maybe it was the Valium and the wine, but I wasn’t thinking about survival in that moment.

I was thinking about the fact that I was about to be reduced to a statistic.

That no one would think any more of my death than they did of my life.

That I would never inspire a song, never really fall in love.

Which only made me wonder if I had