“She said that Serena was there? At the party?”
Liv shrugs. “Julie mentioned that she was with Keith.”
With Keith?
He’d said he was at the party about a hunch. What hunch?
“I had the impression,” I say, unsure how much to divulge. “...that the two of them aren’t close.”
“I had that impression at the funeral too.” Her eyes light up. “Wait, didn’t Ollie mention seeing Mrs. Coach in a picture of the party on Snap Chat?”
I shake my head. “That is such a weird way to refer to her.” Standing, I walk to the railing, turn toward Liv, and lean against it with my wine in hand. For a moment, I spin the stem. When I look up, Liv’s gaze is on me. “I mean, let’s say you and Matt get married. Would you want to be Mrs. Matt or Mrs. Logistics Guy?”
My sister laughs. “I guess I never thought about it. But hell no.” She takes a drink of her wine. “No matterwhat you call her, I refuse to feel sorry for Serena Gilbert. She isn’t the victim.”
“Why?”
“She’s been playing thePoor me; my husband is so sexy all the little girls want himsince I can remember. Shit, keep him happy and he won’t stray.”
My neck tenses. “You’re saying it’s her fault?” I’m not sure if my change in posture is a response to Liv’s comment or the shock of hearing myself defend Serena Gilbert.
“Itisher fault,” Liv says matter-of-factly. “She’s not responsible for what he’s done but for her response.”
I nod, listening to my sister’s reasoning.
“When was the first time he cheated on her?” Liv asks. “What did she do then?”
Mentioning Diana James in Marquette is on the tip of my tongue; however, Liv is on a roll, and her questions are apparently rhetorical.
“When Serena didn’t leave him the first time or at least get angry, she basically handed him a hall pass to do it repeatedly. If Matt even looked, I’d call him out. And he would me.”
“How do you know she didn’t get angry?” I ask.
Liv shrugs. “You’re right. I don’t. I do know that she forgave him time and time again. And we all know he did more than look.”
I turn back to the lake, wondering how many times he cheated, how many women and girls. The illusion I created that I was someone special and that he cared for me is gone. Nevertheless, that misconception that we shared something more than physical was part of thereason I came back to Blue Gil when Becky informed me of his death.
Still looking out at the water, I ask, “How many times do you think he did it?”
“Rumors would say a lot.” She pauses. “He’s not the only one to blame.”
I spin back toward my sister.
Her blue eyes are downcast, her lids and lashes flutter. “The girls are also at fault.” She shrugs and looks up with just her eyes. “It’s not like they didn’t know he was married.”
The truth hurts, but now I can see it. The emotion was different when I was that girl. Distance and time add perspective. “No wonder Dad hates me,” I say as I sit back in the chair.
“You weren’t the first or the last.”
Why did I think that Liv didn’t see what was happening six years ago, that she didn’t know her older sister was one of the many? “Did Mom tell you?”
“No one had to tell me. Jeez, Jillian. We lived in the same house.”
“When you say I wasn’t the first, you mean the girl in Marquette?”
“What girl in Marquette?” Liv shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about a girl in Marquette.”
“Then who?—”
