Chapter 2: The Night My Marriage Began
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the ticking clock above my mother's kitchen doorway.
The night of my wedding.
I looked at Marcus, waiting for him to laugh, to deny it, to tell me this was some sick attempt to make a terrible situation even worse.
He did none of those things.
My mother lowered herself into her chair.
Tiana stood frozen beside the table, one hand pressed against her stomach.
I remained seated, my fingers curled around the edge of my plate.
“Say that again,” I told Mama.
Denise wiped her cheeks with a paper napkin.
“Naomi, I never wanted you to find out like this.””
“Find out what? That my husband slept with my mother on our wedding night?””
“It wasn't supposed to happen.””
I stared at her.
“That's not an answer.””
Marcus leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Your mother and I made a mistake a long time ago.””
I turned toward him.
“You married me six years ago.””
“I know.””
“So what does a long time ago mean to you?””
He looked down.
I slapped my palm against the table.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you!””
Marcus flinched.
For the first time that evening, I saw him as he really was: not the confident man who negotiated contracts for a living, not the husband who promised to protect me, but a coward who had spent years mistaking my trust for permission to lie.
He lifted his eyes.
“It happened after the reception,” he said.
“Your mother and I were both upset. We had too much to drink. One thing led to another.””
Mama shook her head.
“That isn't the whole story.””
He turned sharply toward her.
“Denise.””
“No,” she said, her voice suddenly firmer.
“You don't get to make me carry all of this anymore.””
I stared at them.
They were arguing like two people who had been having the same conversation for years.
Not strangers caught in a scandal.
Partners trying to decide which lie to tell.
I pushed my untouched plate away.
“What happened after my wedding reception?””
Mama stared at the tablecloth.
“You and Marcus had been married for three days.””
“Three days?”” I repeated.
“You just said the night of my wedding.””
“I did.””
“Then why are you saying three days?””
She closed her eyes.
Marcus answered for her.
“Your wedding reception was on Saturday. We went to your aunt's house afterward because she had the gifts. You stayed there with your bridesmaids. Denise and I went back to the reception venue to collect some things.””
I remembered that night.
I remembered my feet aching in my wedding shoes, the pins falling out of my hair, and Marcus carrying me across the threshold of our first apartment.
I remembered waking up the next morning with my wedding ring pressed into his chest.
I had thought the world was beginning.
Meanwhile, my mother had been hiding something that would eventually poison every memory I had of that weekend.
“You left me alone on my wedding night?”” I asked.
Marcus shook his head quickly.
“No. I came back. Nothing happened that night.””
Mama's eyes snapped toward him.
“Marcus, stop lying.””
He looked at her.
She took a shaky breath.
“It happened the following Tuesday. Three days after the wedding. Naomi had gone to work, and Marcus came by because he said he needed to talk to me about something.””
My stomach twisted.
“Talk about what?””
Mama's mouth trembled.
“He said he was afraid.””
“Afraid of what?””
“Of being a husband. Of disappointing you. He said he didn't know whether he was ready for marriage.””
I stared at Marcus.
“You came to my mother because you were afraid of marrying me?””
He nodded faintly.
“And she comforted you?””
Neither answered.
The silence was its own confession.
I pushed back my chair and stood.
“You both need to understand something. I can survive a failed marriage. I can survive being cheated on. What I don't know how to survive is finding out that the two people who were supposed to protect me were conspiring against me before I even had a chance to build my life.””
Mama started crying harder.
“I loved you, Naomi.””
“Then why?””
“Because I was lonely.””
The answer was so small that I almost missed it.
I stared at her.
“What?””
Mama folded the napkin in her hands, then unfolded it.
“After your father died, I was alone for a long time. You girls had your own lives. I was trying to figure out who I was supposed to be without him.””
My father had been dead for nine years.
I had been twenty-two when he suffered a massive heart attack in the driveway of our old house. Mama had spent months afterward sitting in his favorite chair, refusing to move the jacket he had left hanging over it.
I had helped her through the funeral, the bills, and the first Christmas without him.
I had believed we had survived that grief together.
Apparently, I had been wrong about that, too.
“You were lonely,” I repeated.
“So you slept with my husband?””
Mama covered her face.
“I never planned for it to happen.””
“Did you plan for it the second time?””
Her hands fell into her lap.
She didn't answer.
I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat.
“What about the third time? The tenth? The night you invited us over for dinner and watched me kiss him goodbye in your driveway?””
Marcus stood.
“Naomi, I know how this looks.””
I turned on him.
“How it looks?””
He held up both hands.
“I'm not saying it wasn't wrong.””
“Then what are you saying?””
“I loved you. I still love you.””
“Don't.””
The word came out so sharply that he stopped.
“You don't get to use that word to make yourself feel better.””
Tiana suddenly let out a broken laugh.
Everyone turned toward her.
She was staring at Marcus, her cheeks wet.
“You said the same thing to me.””
Marcus rubbed his face.
“Tiana, please.””
“No, I want to understand.”” She pointed toward Mama.
“You told me that what happened between us was different. You said you had never felt this way about anyone before.””
Marcus looked exhausted.
“I meant it at the time.””
Tiana stared at him.
Then she picked up her water glass and threw the contents into his face.
He jerked backward, spluttering.
“Different?”” she shouted.
“You were sleeping with my mother while telling me I was special?””
Mama stood.
“Tiana, don't make this worse.””
My sister rounded on her.
“Don't you dare tell me what to do!””
“I'm still your mother.””
“And I'm still your daughter! Apparently, that didn't stop you from sleeping with the man who married my sister!””
Mama recoiled as if Tiana had struck her.
I should have felt something watching them tear each other apart.
Satisfaction, perhaps.
Anger.
Relief that I wasn't the only person whose life had been shattered.
Instead, I felt tired.
Deeply, painfully tired.
I walked into the kitchen and braced my hands against the counter. The faucet dripped steadily into the sink. On the refrigerator, a photograph showed me, Tiana, and Mama at the beach two summers earlier, our arms wrapped around each other.
I remembered taking that photograph.
I remembered telling the photographer to make sure all three of us were in the frame.
My phone vibrated.
A message from my best friend, Rachel.
*How's family dinner? Marcus behaving himself?*
I stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
Then I typed, *My husband got my sister pregnant. My mother says she's pregnant with his baby too.*
Rachel called immediately.
I answered but couldn't speak.
“Naomi?”” she said.
“What's wrong?””
I pressed my free hand against my mouth.
“Rachel, I need you to listen to me.””
“I'm listening.””
“I think my whole life has been a lie.””
Her voice softened.
“Where are you?””
“At Mama's.””
“Stay there if you're safe. I'm coming to get you.””
I looked through the kitchen doorway.
Marcus was standing beside the table, talking quietly to my mother. Tiana sat with her arms crossed, glaring at both of them.
I lowered my voice.
“Rachel, there's something else.””
“What?””
“Marcus says the affair started six years ago.””
Silence.
Then Rachel asked a question that made my blood run cold.
“Naomi, did he tell you why your mother kept insisting that you two get married so quickly?””
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?””
“Think back. You told me once that Mama had called Marcus after your first big argument and convinced him not to leave.””
I remembered.
We had been engaged for eight months. Marcus had questioned whether we should postpone the wedding because his business was struggling, and I had cried to my mother.
She had called him that evening.
The next morning, Marcus had arrived at my apartment with flowers and promised we would get through everything together.
I had thanked Mama for saving my relationship.
Now I couldn't stop wondering what she had said to him.
“Rachel,” I whispered, “how do you know about that?””
“Because I was there when your mother called him. She said something strange before she realized I could hear her.””
“What did she say?””
Rachel took a breath.
“She told him, 'You can't leave Naomi now. Not after what happened between us.''”
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.
Across the room, Marcus lifted his head.
He had heard my voice change.
“Naomi?”” Rachel asked.
“Are you still there?””
I couldn't answer.
I was looking at the man I had married, the man who had promised to love me forever, and realizing that the wedding I had spent six years remembering as the happiest day of my life might have been the beginning of a bargain I never knew existed.
Then Marcus walked toward the kitchen.
His face had gone pale.
“Who are you talking to?”” he asked.
I looked him straight in the eyes.
“Rachel.””
He stopped.
“Put her on speaker.””
“Why?””
His gaze flicked toward my mother.
For the first time that night, Marcus looked genuinely terrified.
“Because,” he whispered, “if Rachel knows what happened before the wedding, then she's about to tell you something that isn't true.””
May you like
I heard Rachel inhale sharply through the phone.
Then she said, loud enough for Marcus to hear, “Naomi, don't let him leave. There's a reason your father changed his will three days before he died.””
