The Marriage Intervention

by Hilary Dartt

  “So you spied on me?” Josie said. She fought hard to keep anger out of her voice. That particular emotion seemed to rise to the surface so easily, and she needed to get it under control. To improve communications.

  How do you like that, Dr. Strasser?

  “Well, not at first,” Summer said. “But when I talked to Ronnie and she mentioned your trainer was the new guy, I had my suspicions. I mean, I have to admit, when we saw Scott and Blair making out, his ass was looking, you know, pretty…”

  “Tight,” Delaney supplied. “So anyway, then we spied on you.”

  Josie groaned at the ground.

  “Yeah. Feels pretty crappy, right?” Delaney said. “But I’ll say to you the same thing you said to me when you guys were doing the spying. You need it. Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” Josie said.

  “Now, don’t pout,” Summer said. “We’re doing this for your own good. This is an intervention, after all. But you can’t recover until you first admit you have a problem.”

  “What problem?”

  Delaney and Summer looked at one another and sighed.

  “Just kidding, guys,” Josie said. “Okay. Step one. My name is Josie, and I’m addicted to Scott Smith.”

  “Hi, Josie,” Summer and Delaney said.

  “My marriage has become unmanageable because I’m powerless over this addiction.”

  The girls nodded, satisfied.

  “Good,” Delaney said. “Now we need to find you a different personal trainer in time to train for the race. And I think we need to give good old Scott Smith a talking to.”

  Panic swept over Josie like wind in the spring, howling through her body and clearing everything else out of its path.

  “You can’t talk to him. And you can’t cancel him. He inspired me! You probably missed this, because you were spying from afar, but I ran two miles! Two whole miles! Because he inspired me. I need him.”

  “That’s the addiction talking,” Summer said. “You don’t need him. You ran two miles because of you. Because of your own willpower and determination.”

  Josie kicked at the ground. “But finding a new trainer will hurt his feelings.”

  “Um, no offense,” Delaney said, “but I think your marriage is more important than Scott Smith’s feelings.”

  “Agreed,” Summer said.

  “Then I should be the one to break the news,” Josie said. “Let me talk to him.”

  As if she weren’t there, Summer stage-whispered, “Can we trust her?”

  “No,” Delaney answered in the same loud whisper. “But we can give her a chance.”

  Summer nodded, and as one, the girls pushed themselves away from Josie’s car and walked to their own cars, each of them sending a quick, “See you Thursday,” over her shoulder.

  Josie sat in her car for a moment before driving away. She could do this, she thought. No problem. She could tell Scott Smith she had to get a different trainer. He would understand. It was probably too late now to cancel their next appointment, and she didn’t wait to taint her own exercise euphoria by telling him while they were together. So she’d do it after that. She had to.

  With that matter settled, she drove home, where Delilah greeted her with so much enthusiasm she couldn’t help but feel truly loved.

  ***

  “Did you do it?”

  Delaney didn’t bother with greetings or preamble. She launched right into the nitty gritty.

  “No. I told you,” Josie said, hearing a cringe-worthy whiny quality in her voice. “I’ll do it after our next session. That way I won’t miss a session.”

  Rowdy’s was already in full swing, the bartender pouring drinks at a frenzied pace.

  “Whatever,” Delaney said.

  Josie’s radar beeped. Why was Delaney acting so grumpy? That was usually Josie’s role.

  “What’s up with you?” Josie said, careful not to sound like she was speaking too carefully.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing,” Delaney said. “I’m just turning into a fat cow who can’t find a wedding dress to save her life. No wonder I looked like a sausage in that one dress at Froth.”

  “That’s what has you acting like a coyote with a burr on his backside?”

  “Yeah. Got a problem with that?” Delaney said. “I always pictured myself looking good on my wedding day. Not gonna lie, I’m going to look like a seal. A walrus. A whale. And I’m disappointed.”

  “There are lots of knocked-up brides these days. They make lots of bridal gowns for—”

  “For fat girls?”

  “Oh, Delaney. No. Not for fat girls,” Josie said. “For glowing pregnant women. I’ve got you. Let’s go back to Froth. Trust me. As you know, fashion is my specialty. This may feel like a lost cause to you, but to me, it’s a special challenge. One I’m happy, and honored, to take on.”

  Summer walked in then, her long ponytail swinging behind her.

  “Sorry, guys,” she said as she boosted herself onto her stool. “I’ve been on the phone all day.”

  “You look tired,” Josie said.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Shit.”

  “What’s going on with you?” Delaney asked. As if she was one to talk, Josie thought.

  Summer nodded, acknowledging there was something. “I don’t want to bother you with it right now,” she said. “But I promise to tell you when I have more details. Okay?”

  Josie and Delaney tried prodding for a couple of minutes, but she remained tight-lipped.

  “Have an olive,” Josie said finally, pushing the bowl closer to Summer. “It always makes you feel better.”

  “Thanks,” Summer said, laughing just a bit. “It does.”

  Josie left the bar that night feeling guilty, herself. Delaney and Summer were both facing down some of the biggest moments of their lives, and Josie was afraid to risk hurting the feelings of a man who supposedly meant nothing to her now? What was really important? Not Scott Smith. Not even running six miles, although the race was symbolic of her commitment to herself.

  Her marriage was truly important. It was time she started to act like it. No excuses, no exceptions.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Scott jogged up alongside Josie and motioned for her to begin the cool-down. When she nodded and slowed, he put his hand on her shoulder and fell into step beside her.

  After just a second too long, Josie broke eye contact and focused on what she just achieved. Three miles. Three entire miles. She couldn’t believe it.

  Even a couple of weeks ago, she wouldn’t have believed it was possible. But here she was, cooling down after three whole miles. Tamping down the urge to pump her fist in the air, or jump up and down, or yell, “wooohoooo!” she grinned at the track as if it were her new best friend. Not Scott. The track.

  The white gym towel Scott handed her smelled like bleach, and Josie inhaled as she wiped her face. Maybe she could run six miles. Maybe. If she could run three, why couldn’t she run six? For the first time, six miles didn’t seem like a trip around the world.

  “All right,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts. “Let’s stretch it out.”

  As she stretched out her quads, she said to Scott, “I need to talk to you.”

  He nodded, eager to hear what she had to say.

  She said quickly, “Not here. Can you come over?”

  His face lit up.

  Oh, shit.

  “No, not like, ‘Can you come over,’” (she waggled her eyebrows) “but, like, ‘I need to talk to you in private.’”

  Scott’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Okay. Let me just grab my stuff and I’ll follow you home.”

  ***

  Josie would later look back and realize hindsight would have come in handy before she actually put herself in such a vulnerable situation. Again, though, she wasn’t operating in hindsight. Determined to keep the meeting between her and Scott strictly hands-off, Josie placed Scott’s ice water on one side of the bar, and positioned herself opposite him so there was no
risk of them making physical contact.

  “So,” Scott said. “This is pretty serious, huh?”

  Josie sipped her water. “Yes. It is.”

  Scott drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Okay. Spill it.”

  “Working with you,” she began. “I mean—training with you. Training with you has been good.”

  When he quirked an eyebrow at her, she amended her statement. “Incredible. I couldn’t have run three miles today without your support. And I know I’m on the way to finishing my first race, in large part thanks to you.”

  Now, he smiled, warmly, and she felt a stab of guilt.

  “Josie, I—”

  “Wait,” she said. “Let me finish. Please. Like I said, it’s been great training with you. I know you’re going to be a great trainer, and you’re going to help people get great results. But.”

  “I knew there was a ‘but’ in there,” Scott said.

  Josie smiled. “But I need to get a different trainer.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but again, she stopped him. “With our history, with everything that’s happened between us, it’s not fair to me, to you, or to Paul for us to be working together in this capacity. I have to put my marriage first.”

  To his credit, Scott managed to cover his shocked expression pretty quickly.

  “I understand,” he said, nodding. “I understand.”

  “It’s nothing personal,” Josie said, but she wished she hadn’t. It was such a cliché, such a go-to phrase.

  “Actually, it’s pretty personal,” Scott said. “It’s absolutely personal.”

  “You’re right,” Josie said. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. It is personal. Very personal. Which is exactly why I can’t do it anymore.”

  “I understand,” Scott repeated. “No hard feelings.”

  The clock on the microwave read six-fifteen, which meant Paul should be home in about fifteen minutes. Perfect timing. Scott should be out of here just before Paul got home. She set her glass down and moved toward the front door. Scott didn’t follow.

  “Just one thing, Josie,” he said. He leaned a hip against the counter.

  She bit back a sigh.

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me the truth. Do you still have feelings for me?”

  What could she say? Yes, Scott. I do. For some reason, I can’t keep myself from wanting you. Which is the real reason I can’t work with you anymore. Yes, Scott. Which is a completely inappropriate answer. Shit.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said instead. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the truth. But it was a truth. And she could live with that.

  He followed her to the front door, and she opened it. Instead of walking out, he stopped so they stood side by side. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  Without warning, he pulled her to him and crushed her mouth to his. For a split second, her body went limp against his. Her mouth responded without her even being aware of it. Her mind took over then, and she started like he’d slapped her instead of kissing her with all the thirst of a man who hadn’t had any water in weeks. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away gently. She could see so many things in his expression—questions, heat, passion, even anger. But then she saw surprise.

  Scott’s eyes flicked over to the driveway, and Josie’s gaze followed his. Paul had just pulled up. He was early, and there was no question he’d seen Josie kissing Scott.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  For the next week, Josie avoided the world. She spent most of her non-working time in the house, either under the covers in bed or on the couch staring at the TV as soap operas played, but not taking in a single word of what the actors said.

  When Paul arrived home the previous Friday, Scott retreated. He scuttled to his car like a tiny crab and Paul advanced in an angry march towards the house. Before she knew it, Josie was standing in the kitchen with her husband as if the two men in her life had been swapped out, interchangeable.

  Only, Paul wasn’t looking at her in the same way Scott had been. Josie felt more than a little scared.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Paul said. “I come home early, to surprise you, and I find you kissing that skinny weasel in our entryway?”

  For once, Josie didn’t have a witty or scathing comeback. “He kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it. I pushed him away.”

  Paul nodded. So he knew. That was a relief. Josie exhaled.

  “I saw you push him away,” he said, his tone still angry. “But I also saw him at our house. What the hell was he doing at our house, Josie? Where the hell did he get the impression it was okay to kiss you?”

  Josie opened her mouth and then closed it again. Fortunately, Delilah chose that moment to come tearing into the kitchen, her legs going triple-time on the tile floor, her tongue hanging madly out of her mouth. She ran up to Paul and put her front paws on his legs. Her entire body shook with the thrill of meeting someone new. As Josie expected, Paul couldn’t resist her charms. He laughed and bent down to scratch her behind the ears.

  “Meet Delilah,” Josie said. She wondered if he could hear the relief in her voice.

  “Delilah,” he cooed, letting the puppy lick his face. “What the hell was your mommy doing letting a strange man kiss her in the entryway of our house? Do you find that as symbolic as I do? ‘Welcome home, Paul. But before you step through the front door to move back in, you’ll have to get past me kissing another man.’”

  The dog, of course, only became more delighted, and began running in tight circles around Paul.

  “Get your toy,” Josie told her. She was surprised when Delilah stopped running, looked at her with clarity and darted off into the living room. “Who knows if she’ll actually come back with it.”

  “So what was Scott Smith doing, kissing you in the entryway?” Paul said.

  Josie hung her head. “Saying good-bye.”

  Paul snorted. “Do you always say good-bye like that?”

  “No. No, we don’t.”

  She told him the story of how their trainer-trainee relationship unfolded, how she hadn’t known he was “the new guy,” and how she only went through two appointments with him and had brought him to the house to cancel future appointments. How this little meeting had been like a final meeting, and how Scott had just kissed her—unexpectedly—in the doorway as he went to leave.

  “Why didn’t you just fire him at the gym? Why did you need this intimate setting?”

  “I don’t know, Paul,” Josie said. “I knew he’d be disappointed and I wanted to give him privacy.”

  “So his feelings are more important than mine. How did you think I’d feel when I drove up after being gone and found him here with you? Because I’ll tell you something. Disappointment doesn’t even cover it.”

  “I—I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to be home just yet.”

  Delilah raced back into the kitchen, the whites of her eyes showing and her toy clamped between her teeth. Paul laughed. “You got her a police officer doll to chew on?”

  “I thought it would be funny,” Josie said.

  Paul took the toy from Delilah and threw it for her. After her little legs scrambled on the floor, she finally gained traction and took off after it.

  “It is,” Paul said. “At least, it would have been ten minutes ago. Now I think it’s a sign, a statement about your wishes for my future.”

  “I’m sorry, Paul. I really am. I thought I was doing the right thing by inviting Scott here to let him know I needed to get a new trainer. The last thing I expected him to do was to kiss me.”

  “I believe you,” Paul said. “But I saw the way you kissed him back. Even if it was just for a second. That wasn’t a good-bye kiss. That was an I-wish-we-were-just-getting-started kiss. And then you pushed him away. But it was there, for a minute.”

  Denying it would be pointless. Paul specialized in translating the code of her own personal body language. So she waited.

  ***
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  “You’re not denying it.”

  Delilah was back, wiggling so hard she couldn’t hold onto her police officer chew toy. She dropped it and picked it up several times before finally clenching it hard between her teeth. Paul laughed and shook his head at her. “You’re pretty cute. I’ll give you that.”

  He picked up the doll and tossed it back into the living room, sending the puppy into a frenzy. She dashed off and Paul looked at Josie again. She wanted to look away, but didn’t.

  Her mom had taught her to look problems straight in the eye. Too bad she didn’t have a mirror, though, because Paul wasn’t the problem. She was.

  “Josie.”

  She sighed, and instantly thought of her third graders, trying on adult behaviors like sighing and eye-rolling, especially when she chastised them for sloppy handwriting or talking during spelling tests.

  “What.”

  “I really want to stay married. I really do,” Paul said.

  “To me?”

  “Don’t lash out at me,” he said. “Obviously. I’m not the one kissing someone else in our doorway.”

  Heat crept into her face.

  “I just don’t know if you’re ready to really work on this marriage,” he said. “I mean, you can’t seem to disengage yourself from that skinny, long-necked asshole, and—”

  “He’s not an asshole,” Josie said.

  Delilah wandered back in, sniffed Paul’s shoes, turned in a few circles and plopped down with her chin resting on one of his feet.

  “One of you is,” Paul said, and Josie felt her mouth snap shut. “Anyway. I feel like I’m all in and you’re, well, not. I don’t know what’s going on, why you feel the need to keep seeing Scott Smith the giraffe. But I do know that I can’t feel good about working on things if you can’t tear yourself away from him. I’m going to keep staying at Terry’s, I guess. I’m not sure I even want to work this out anymore. I need some time to think.”

  He walked out the front door, got into his car and drove away. Her vision went blurry and her hearing seemed to go into overdrive: the sounds of his shoes on the tile floor, the front door creaking open, the chugging sound of his car’s engine turning over and the tires rolling off the cement of the driveway and onto the asphalt of the road.