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Whitney
As we walkinside the ballroom, the scent of the gardenias washes through my senses. I’m brought back to a Christmas ball years ago. Back then, Mark had his firm hand on my lower back throughout the night. Now, his hands rest at his side as we make our way through the crowd
It’s silly that I miss his touch when it wasn’t out of affection. He wanted to show our social circle that he owned me, even though everyone knew what went on in our private life.
I never understood why he chose the Esposito’s yearly Christmas Ball as our final date in his drawn-out attempt to win me back. Why would he surround me with the people who witnessed my humiliation these past fifteen years?
A couple approaches us, and my stomach sinks. David and Gemma. David has worked for Walker Industries since Mark and I were newlyweds. He and his now ex-wife, Emily, were one of our closest couple friends years ago. Until Emily told me that Mark and David went to strip clubs together and knew all about each other’s infidelity. They were partners in crime.
I couldn’t stomach being around David after I found out. If only I had been as wise as Emily and divorced Mark years ago. If only I hadn’t stayed under some misapprehension that it was better for the kids. And that I deserved his infidelity.
“Whitney.” David’s gaze drifts up and down my dress. “Is she a vampire?” he asks Mark. “How is it possible that she hasn’t aged in two decades?”
I force a smile at the disguised jab. He’s reminding me that he’s known me for two decades, while his new wife is probably two decades younger than him.
“It’s the post-divorce glow,” Mark says, smiling tightly. “She doesn’t have a cheating husband to weigh her down anymore.”
Small gasps fill the air. My God, did he really just say that?
David laughs awkwardly. “Speaking of which—“ he licks his top lip “—I have to say, I’m really impressed to see you two here together. It seems like you’re… Like you’re both doing really well considering…everything.”
“I think so, too,” Gemma says. “It’s wonderful that you’re able to come to events together.”
Just as I open my mouth to smooth over the awkwardness, Mark speaks. “She’sdoing well. My whole fucking life is falling apart.” Mark chuckles—a brittle sound—and both David and Gemma jerk back. They look almost bewildered, and heat suffuses my face. What is Mark doing? He’s going to make them think he’s losing a grip on his sanity.
“I’m…” David swallows. “I’m really sorry, Mark. Divorce is hard.”
“It is,” Mark says, his tone light. “It’s especially torturous when it’s your fault. When you threw everything away, and for what?” He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Now David’s cheeks are bright red, probably because he knows exactly what Mark means by throwing away his marriage for “nothing”. When I glance at Mark with wide eyes, he’s wearing the ghost of a smile, and finally it clicks into place what his strange behavior is about.
He’s humiliating himself on purpose.
This is all for me.
These parties used to be agony for me. I had to endure the piteous stares and condescending pleasantries, and at the end of the night, I’d be as exhausted as if I’d just reached the summit of Half Dome.
Mark is taking the attention off me by stepping into the spotlight.
The next few conversational exchanges only confirm my assumption. Each time he’s asked how he’s doing, he gives some version of “not well”. He says he’s hardly sleeping. He even tells the CFO of Esposito that he’s had to see a therapist just to get out of bed every morning.
“Mark,” I say when we’re finally alone. “You’re scaring people.”
He smiles faintly, shrugging. “They all know my life is falling apart. Why not just come out and say it?”
I set my hand on his arm. “You don’t have to do this for me. I don’t need it. I’m doing just fine without it.”
His green eyes blaze. “Well, whether you need it or not, I’m giving it to you.”
My vision grows misty, and I swallow to ease the lump in my throat. I’m too damned soft for this, and I hate it. Watching him bludgeon himself makes me want to wrap my arms around him.
I can’t be affectionate with him tonight. I can’t give him false hope when I’m planning on having sex with Stephen next week.
But damn, it’s tempting.
A while later, we’re sitting at our table. Mark has his gaze fixed on his water glass. He’s not drinking alcohol, which only adds to the strangeness of the night. His signature whiskey on ice is so well known in our circle, a server typically brings it to him before he even orders.
I take a sip of my wine. “I was thinking about our honesty agreement tonight.”
