NADIA'S POV
Marcus stands there, hands in his pockets, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
I want to say no. I want to slam the door in his face and pretend I didn't hear what he just said. But I step aside and let him in.
The beach house suddenly feels too small with him in it. Marcus looks like Jeff - same dark hair, same blue eyes, same strong jaw. But where Jeff is all sharp edges and ambition, Marcus is softer somehow.
"Tea?" I ask, needing something to do with my hands.
"Sure."
I make tea while he sits at the kitchen table. The silence is heavy.
"How many?" I finally ask, not turning around.
"Three that I know of."
Three. Three affairs while I was killing myself trying to be the perfect wife.
"Who?"
"Does it matter?"
I turn to face him. "Yes."
He sighs. "His assistant two years ago. A client in Boston. And someone from his gym about six months ago."
Six months ago. When we were trying for a baby. When he held me while I cried after the second miscarriage.
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because you deserve to know. And because..." he pauses, running his hand through his hair exactly like Jeff does. "Because I should have told you sooner."
I bring the tea over and sit across from him. "You knew?"
"I suspected. Then I knew." He wraps his hands around the mug. "I told myself it wasn't my business. That maybe you knew and accepted it. Some wives do."
"I'm not some wives."
"No, you're not." He looks at me then, really looks at me. "You're the woman who made my brother laugh at his own father's funeral. Who taught our nephew to paint. Who never missed a single family dinner even though my mother treated you like you weren't good enough."
"Patricia never liked me."
"Patricia doesn't like anyone who threatens her control over Jeff."
We sit in silence, sipping tea. Outside, waves crash against the shore.
"Why Scarlett?" I ask. "Why her and not the others? Why leave me for her?"
"He's not with Scarlett."
I laugh, but it's bitter. "Right."
"I'm serious. He ended it with her a week ago. That's why she sent the flowers. She's angry."
"Then why the divorce?"
Marcus sets down his mug. "Can I be honest?"
"Please."
"Jeff doesn't know how to love you. You scare him."
"I scare him? I spent five years trying not to rock the boat!"
"Exactly. The real you, the one I met at that gallery six years ago, the one who told Jeff his taste in art was pedestrian - that woman terrified him. So he broke her down until she disappeared."
I remember that night. The gallery opening. Jeff bidding on a painting I thought was awful. I'd had too much champagne and told him exactly what I thought. Instead of being offended, he laughed and asked for my number.
"He fell in love with my honesty then spent five years trying to silence it," I say.
"He's an idiot."
"You're his brother."
"Doesn't make him less of an idiot."
I laugh, surprising myself. It feels foreign in my throat.
"Why did you really come here, Marcus?"
He pulls out an envelope from his jacket. "To give you this. And to warn you."
I open the envelope. It's a check for two million dollars.
"What is this?"
"What you're owed. Jeff hid assets during the divorce. This is your real half."
I stare at the check. "He said there wasn't much money. That the business was struggling."
"The business is worth forty million. He lied."
Forty million. While I was clipping coupons and feeling guilty about buying groceries.
"I can't take this."
"You can and you will. It's yours." Marcus stands. "And the warning, Scarlett isn't done. She's vindictive when she doesn't get what she wants."
"What could she possibly do? She already destroyed my marriage."
"Your marriage was destroyed long before Scarlett. But she has photos. Videos. She's threatening to release them if Jeff doesn't come back to her."
"Let her. I don't care anymore."
"You should care. You're in some of them."
My blood runs cold. "What?"
"Hidden cameras in your bedroom. From when Jeff brought her to your house."
Our house. Our bedroom. Where we...
I run to the bathroom and throw up. Marcus holds my hair back, rubbing my back like Jeff never did.
"I'm handling it," he says quietly. "My lawyer is getting an injunction. But I wanted you to know."
"She recorded us? In our own bedroom?"
"She recorded herself with Jeff. You were collateral damage."
I rinse my mouth, staring at myself in the mirror. Who is this woman with hollow eyes and shaking hands?
"I need you to leave," I say.
"Nadia—"
"Please. Just go."
He nods. "My number's on the check if you need anything."
After he leaves, I sit on the bathroom floor and cry. Not pretty tears, but ugly, body-shaking sobs. Five years of suppressed emotion pouring out.
When I finally stop, the sun has set completely. I walk to the beach in the dark, letting the cold water shock my feet.
My phone rings. Jeff.
I almost don't answer. Then I do.
"Marcus visited you," he says without preamble.
"He did."
"He had no right—"
"He had every right. More right than you ever did."
Silence. Then, "The money is yours. I... I was wrong to hide it."
"You were wrong about a lot of things."
"Nadia, about Scarlett—"
"I know about the cameras."
Sharp intake of breath. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know she was recording."
"But you brought her to our bed."
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You're sorry you got caught."
"That's not true."
"Jeff, why did you marry me?"
The question hangs between us like a blade.
"You know why."
"No, I don't. Tell me."
"Because I loved you."
"Loved. Past tense."
"Nadia,"
"When did you stop? Was it before the first affair or after?"
"It's not that simple."
"It's exactly that simple. You either loved me or you didn't."
"I loved you the only way I knew how."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
We breathe together across the miles, across the ruins of our marriage.
"I'm keeping the money," I say.
"Good."
"And I'm done pretending you didn't break me."
"I know that too."
"Goodbye, Jeff."
"Wait"
I hang up and throw my phone into the sand. Then I scream. I scream at the ocean, at the sky, at the universe that let me waste five years on a man who never deserved me.
When my throat is raw, I sit in the sand. The waves lap at my feet, cold and constant.
"You okay, miss?"
I look up. A man stands there with a dog, concern on his face. He's tall, broad-shouldered, with kind eyes that look silver in the moonlight.
"I'm fine," I lie.
"You sure? That was quite a scream."
"Sometimes you just need to scream at the ocean."
He smiles. "True. Mind if Murphy and I sit? He loves meeting new people."
The golden retriever is already nudging my hand with his nose.
"Sure."
He sits a respectful distance away while Murphy plops down right next to me, head on my lap.
"I'm Nathan," he says.
"Nadia."
"Rough day, Nadia?"
"Rough five years."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Want to sit in silence while Murphy sheds all over you?"
I laugh, surprising myself again. "That sounds perfect."
We sit quietly, watching the waves. Murphy's warm weight is comforting.
"I come here every night," Nathan finally says. "If you ever need to scream at the ocean again."
"You live here?"
"Next door. The blue house with the ridiculous garden gnomes."
"Those are yours?"
"My daughter's. She's five and believes they protect the house from monsters."
"Smart kid."
"She is." He stands, calling Murphy. "We should head back. School night."
As they walk away, he turns back.
"Nadia? Whatever those five rough years were about - they're over now. Tomorrow can be different if you let it."
After they're gone, I find my phone in the sand and walk back to the house. Two million dollars. Hidden cameras. Three affairs.
Tomorrow can be different.
I look at the box of art supplies I brought. Tomorrow, I paint.
Tonight, I just breathe.