Chapter 19
IS IT REALLY JUST BUSINESS?
NATALIE
Our weekend felt like a rerun, familiar, flat.
I took Bebe to gymnastics, and Jason took James to baseball.
We ran errands, our usual busy Saturday routine.
Jason and I divided and conquered, as always.
We were never the family to roll into Costco together, grabbing samples and debating brands of frozen waffles. We moved in parallel lines.
The division between us was more than practical.
It was ingrained, almost reflexive. On Saturday night, as I folded laundry while Jason answered emails, I found myself wondering when this divide had started.
Was it after James was born? When Jason’s traveling ramped up?
Had it always been there, growing so slowly I didn’t notice until it felt like a canyon between us?
On Sunday, we both took the kids to a movie.
But Jason and I barely spoke, and there was no real warmth between us.
We were just going through the motions. The theater was cold, the popcorn overly salty, and the kids bickered about which slushie flavors to mix like it was a high-stake decision.
In the back of my mind, I kept thinking about this Shannon, this woman I had never met and hadn’t even given much thought to until my sister asked me.
But now I had her memorized. I wondered if he thought about her as much as I did.
And then I thought about my “business” dinner with Will, the kiss on the cheek, the blurry line I was starting to cross.
Perhaps Jason felt the same way about Shannon that I felt about Will.
Annoyed with the awkward silence growing Sunday evening while the kids were off playing, I decided to go out on a limb and try to grasp at any sort of connection we could find.
Maybe if Jason could see me as more than just a housewife, I would be more interesting to him like Shannon.
While Jason sat at the kitchen counter checking emails and I finished the dishes, I told him about some new fabrics and art for Will’s house.
“I found a beautiful piece of art the other day for a house I am helping design. It has been so nice to stretch my creative muscles again for someone else’s house.
” I began. Taking a breath and realizing that sharing this part of me could be good.
Maybe the more I opened up the less he would need from someone else.
When I went to start telling him how I was going to tie the piece into the space with the fabrics he interrupted.
“Oh. Fun. I am so glad you found a hobby to keep you busy.” Jason responded half heartedly while continuing to work on his phone.
I shouldn’t have been surprised but I couldn’t help it. Did he just gaslight me about my previous career calling it a hobby? That was it. I tried. I was done for the night.
I nodded even though he didn’t even see me since he hadn’t looked up from his phone. I set down the dishes I was finishing and walked right out of the kitchen.
By Monday morning, Jason flew out to his office in Chicago. We said goodbye without a kiss. I acutely felt how stale things were between us, as flat and flavorless as a bottle of wine left open too long.
Later that day, when I picked up the kids from school, I saw the nanny collecting Will’s children.
They dragged their feet and threw tired glances at one another as if silently agreeing this wasn’t ideal.
They probably felt the same way I did, wishing it was Will standing across the lot, with his easy smile that ignited something warm and traitorous deep inside.
I was getting addicted to those little moments with him, brief flashes of connection that gave me a quick rise.
Wednesday morning I went to Pilates with Camille, feeling stuck in a funk I couldn’t shake. My body moved sluggishly, as though mirroring the fog in my mind.
After class we grabbed some green juice and sat outside the juice bar on the patio. I stirred my drink, watching a tiny woman in oversized sunglasses wrestle a French bulldog into a designer dog stroller. This was my life, I thought. This.
Camille took a sip of her green juice, observing me with her soft, assessing gaze.
“You are quiet today,” she said, “Something is…off, no?”
I hesitated, then said what I was thinking, or maybe brooding about. “I think Jason might have something going on with a colleague of his in New York. I may be jumping to conclusions, but…I have a gut feeling.”
Camille tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet focus. “Who?” she asked.
“Her name is Shannon,” I said, watching the traffic go by. “Meredith did some digging and found her photo.”
“And?”
“Gorgeous,” was all I said, but I was also thinking, she looks like someone from Jason’s world.
“Is there any evidence?” Camille asked. “And if there was, do you even want to find it?”
Her question caught me off guard. Did I want to? What would that change? Would I leave Jason if he was having an affair? And then, like a reflex, my mind went to Will. Because maybe that’s what scared me most, what I might do with the truth if I had it.
Part of me thought that finding something would justify going further with Will. It would shift the blame. Give me an excuse.
But I had two kids. I couldn’t afford to be reckless, no matter how Will made me feel. He made me feel all the things a woman wants to feel and forgets she’s missing until someone hands them back to her; sexy, seen, appreciated.
“I could probably find something if I wanted to.” I said quietly. “But, maybe ignorance is bliss.”
“Wouldn’t the truth give you clarity though?” Camille asked, stirring her drink. “If you knew what Jason was doing, you might feel free to…pursue things.” She paused letting the name sit in the space between us. “With…Mr. Parker.”
I looked down at my hands, suddenly too aware of everything, my ring, my chipped nail polish, the fact that she wasn’t wrong.
“It’s not that simple,” I said. “Will makes me feel things I didn’t even realize I’d lost. But it’s not just about how he makes me feel. I have to think about Bebe and James. I don’t know if any of this is real or just an escape from everything that isn’t.”
Camille reached across the table and gently placed her hand over mine.
“Whatever you do,” she said softly, “I’m here for you. Toujours. Always.”
I nodded, grateful for her loyalty, how understanding she was, even when I didn’t fully understand what I was doing myself.
Later, I sat at the computer working on Will’s house. I found a beautiful painting of a horse that would look perfect in Madison’s room and texted him a photo.
Natalie: I found this for Madison’s room. What do you think?
His reply came almost instantly.
Will: Madison would love that.
Natalie: I can speak to the artist and arrange delivery if you want
Will: Perfect, I’ll send you my credit card information.
I hesitated before typing back. Bubbles appeared. He was typing.
Will: How are you?
I paused for a moment, staring at his message before replying. Finally, I responded.
Natalie: I’m good.
Will: You sure?
Natalie: I don’t know. I guess I’m a little freaked out about our meeting
Will: Freaked out?
Natalie: Well… you know I’m married.
Will: I figured, but you haven’t mentioned your husband.
Before I could type another word, my phone lit up. Will. Actually calling.
When I answered, his words came out in a rush.
“Natalie, I know I’m crossing a line here, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I took a deep breath, feeling both guilty and thrilled to hear him say it out loud.
“Me too,” I admitted, “but I have my family to think about. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“We should talk,” he began.
Yes, we should, I thought, but what would we say? The time caught my eye. “Another time. I better get going or I will never find a parking spot at school pick-up.”
“Then I’ll settle from seeing you across the lot.”
My mouth was dry. I didn’t trust myself to say more.
“Bye, Will.”
“Bye, Natalie.”
We hung up, and I darted off to get to school. When I got there, we exchanged a quick glance but didn’t speak. Now we had this secret between us. We both knew we wanted each other.
Later that evening, Jason called while I was putting dishes away. I picked up, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Hey. I wanted to check with you about something.” His voice was casual. “I have a company dinner Friday night in the East Bay. Do you mind if I stay the night and come back Saturday?”
I paused, gripping the dish towel in my hand. “That’s fine,” I said lightly.
“Okay, thanks,” Jason said. “Tell Bebe and James, I miss them.”
“Will do,” I replied.
“See ya,” he said. Nothing more than a logistical check-in. It made me want to see Will again. I knew it was up to me since I was the one crossing the line.
Natalie: Are you busy Friday night after 9?
Will: The kids will be with Kelly. I'm planning a wild night of laundry and Dateline.
Will: Unless you can top that?
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my phone.
Natalie: Would it be okay if I came over? I don’t know if I can top that, but…
A beat passed before his reply appeared.
Will: You are more than welcome to try.
I texted my sitter, asking her to come over around eight-thirty. After I put the kids to bed. I didn’t want to leave while they were still awake. That was it. I guess I was starting something…
I sat on the couch after sending the texts, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. What was I doing? What was this thing I was stepping into?
It wasn’t about Jason and Shannon. This was about Will and the way he brought me back to life every time he looked at me.
It wasn’t revenge. Not exactly. But there was something defiant in it. A need to feel something that wasn’t muted or safe. Will made me feel wanted. Present. Like I was more than a title—wife, mother, coordinator of everything. I craved that feeling.
The next morning, I tried to distract myself with textiles and wallpaper samples, pulling together things for Will’s house.
As if that’s what I was going to his place to discuss.
I replayed our conversation from the day before, I can’t stop thinking about you, he said.
And I’d seen the way his eyes lingered on me at pick-up.
I told myself I was still in control. That this wasn’t really an affair. But wanting him didn’t feel optional anymore. It felt inevitable.