“I can’t wait,” Peter said, striding around the counter, a pleading look in his eyes.
And because Ada couldn’t think of any other way out but through, she bowed her head and muttered, “All right. Let’s go out.”
Hannah’s smile was enormous, and Kathy cried, “Yeah!” It was only Peter and Ada who remained quiet, eyeing one another across the kitchen as though worried the other was about to strike like a snake.
Dinner was at seven thirty. Forty minutes before they had to leave, Ada got ready in her music room, putting on makeup and trying on several different dresses. Hannah was with her, approving her makeup decisions, including the charcoal around her eyes and the dark-green dress. Hannah had a little bag of gummy worms and handed them over to Ada, asking if she wanted one. Ada took two and collapsed on the edge of the sofa, telling herself to stop panicking. The sugar rolled through her mind, making everything feel unreal.
“Mom?” Hannah’s voice was edged with concern. “We know you’ve been having a really hard time. I mean, I know that, even if the others don’t get it. You have your patients, and everything you do for Kade, Olivia, and me, and you’ve been coming to all my tennis matches and throwing the graduation party. And now, with Grandma’s health…” She trailed off. “It’s a lot. So I hope you can enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”
Ada forced herself to smile and touched her daughter’s knee. When did she get so grown-up?
“I appreciate it, honey,” she said.
Downstairs, they found Peter already in a suit jacket and a pair of dark jeans. Kathy was in the living room, watching television with Kade and Olivia. It looked like she was showing them an old movie, which would probably end in disaster. Kade and Olivia weren’t entirely patient when it came to older media. Ada decided to let them all learn that lesson themselves.
“Wow,” Peter said. “You look incredible.”
Ada felt a blush crawl down her cheeks and into her chest. She did not feel incredible. She felt forced into a three-hour torture chamber called “date night.” But she put on a prettysmile and told herself to pretend for the good of her family.Maybe Peter will call his affair off, she thought, then hated herself for thinking it.
They got in Peter’s car and drove downtown, where they grabbed a perfect parking space a three-minute walk from the restaurant. Peter demanded updates from Ada’s weeklong trip to her hometown, and Ada said everything she could think of—what she’d been cooking both for herself and for Kathy, what the doctors had said, and how emotional it had been. Peter took her hand between the seats, and she was too tired to shake it off.
At the restaurant, Peter suggested they splurge on lobster, buttery biscuits, and expensive champagne.
“I won’t be able to see you for a week,” Peter said when she protested. “I want to treat you. Let me?”
Ada shrugged and handed the menu to the server, who was going through his tirade, greeting them warmly and eager for a big tip. “Okay,” she said finally.
When the champagne came, the server asked what they were celebrating.
“We’re celebrating our marriage,” Peter said, a dimple in his cheek. “We’ve been together for decades, and it just keeps getting better.”
Ada didn’t say anything.
But the server was joyful, popping the bottle and pouring. “I hope I can look back and say the same about my future wife,” he said. “You are lucky. I hope you know that!”
Peter raised his flute, and Ada mirrored him. There was a stone in her throat.
“Here’s to having you back home,” Peter said.
“Here’s to your trip out West,” she said.
They clinked glasses, and Ada studied his face, searching once more for signs of his lie.
But Peter was already talking about their children, about Hannah’s upcoming departure, about how the seasons of their lives were shifting before them. When he touched her hand again over the table, Ada nearly leaped out of her skin.
“I’ve felt like we’ve been distant from each other lately,” Peter said quietly, never loud enough to raise suspicion from anyone around them. “I don’t like that feeling.”
Ada’s mouth went dry.
“Can we work on that?” Peter asked.
“You’re going away,” she reminded him.
Peter pulled his hand back, looking wounded. “It’s for work. You know that.”
Ada filled her mouth with champagne and watched as, across the restaurant, a woman in her twenties threw her head back and cackled at her date’s joke. Had Ada and Peter ever been half as happy? Was that what Peter and Katrina looked like on the island? Oh, but how had they ever managed to go out to restaurants without being seen? Surely someone would have called Ada and told her the truth about Peter’s affair? Then again, plenty of men cheated. Society liked to let them get away with it.
The dinner was delicious, probably, although Ada felt like she couldn’t taste anything. When he’d realized that Ada wasn’t keen on talking, Peter had begun monologuing, bridging the gap between them and pretending they were happy. The bill came, and he paid with a flourish of his credit card and said, “All right, Ada. Show me that jazz bar you’re obsessed with.”
