Page 60 of Two Couples

Emily returned and dabbed my cut with an antiseptic pad. She cleaned up the blood in my hair and on my cheek. “It’s superficial,” she said.

“That was totally unacceptable,” Samantha said. “Violence isn’t the way to work through this. I can’t believe you assaulted him! We’ve only been here three days, and it’s come to this?!”

“He’s an idiot,” I said.

“He’s not! You think you’re smarter because you have a law degree. You’re not. Patrick is⁠—”

“I don’t need to listen to how heroic your husband is anymore. As I pointed out the minute this problem presented itself—we have a larger stake in this place, so technically we’re the homeowners.”

“That’s not fair,” Samantha said. “You’re going to hold money over us? I thought we were friends? Emily’s been my best friend forever. I thought you⁠—”

“He’s an idiot if he thinks any person in law enforcement is going to take our word. Especially now. I don’t know how many times and in how many ways I can tell you that. He’s too dense to get it. He’s so obsessed with being the do-good hero, he can’t see reality. This isn’t a superhero film we’re living in here.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked him,” Samantha said. “He didn’t deserve that. You need to apologize.”

I laughed.

“Don’t get yourself all wound up again,” Emily said, her voice sounding like a soft purr, a tone that soothed me. “You’re making it bleed more.”

“I’m not making it bleed. And I’m not wound up. I’m trying to knock some common sense into this guy. We all know what would happen, and he’s going to get us in a mess that will take months to extract ourselves from.”

“Please stop talking until I’m finished bandaging this,” Emily said.

“I have nothing else to say. Obviously this guy can’t add two and two.”

“That’s not true!” Samantha sounded as angry as I was but, but when I glanced at her, the expression on her face said something else. I wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t fury.

Emily leaned toward the table and picked up her phone. She aimed it at the side of my head and took several pictures. She took a gauze pad out of the first aid kit, squirted antiseptic cream on the wound, then carefully placed the gauze over it. She cut a few small pieces of tape and plastered them to my face.

She stood and held up her phone toward Patrick. “I have pictures of what you did to him. If you report what we saw in our pool, if you try to report this, we’ll tell them you started it. We’ll tell them you didn’t want to report it, and you attacked Keith to make him stop.”

“That’s a lie,” Patrick said.

“I’m aware,” Emily said. “But there are two of us, and one of you. I don’t know where Sam is on this anymore, but there’s zero proof that anything you say is true.”

“Same for you,” Patrick said.

“As I said—two of us. And photographic evidence. A head wound like that a few inches to the left could have killed him.” She slid the phone into her pocket. “Am I making myself clear?”

Patrick didn’t respond.

FORTY-THREE

SAMANTHA

The air was thick with dread and tension. I looked at Patrick, longing to be supportive, but defending him had set things spinning in the opposite direction.

Secretly, I was glad that Keith stopped him from calling the sheriff, but I hated how he’d done it.

Watching our friend assault my husband had been horrifying. I froze at the shock of his violence. Somehow, I’d kept my tears inside. I’d wanted to grab Keith and pull him away from Patrick, but that was impossible. I wanted to protect my husband’s precious body, his face, his heart and lungs from that brutal assault.

It was so unlike Keith to become violent. He’d looked and sounded like he wanted to kill Patrick. What made him so angry? Was this only about reporting Todd’s murder, or had something else happened between him and Patrick?

I took two bottles of water from the fridge and returned to the living room. Patrick hadn’t moved from his spot, although he’d picked up his phone and was inspecting it for damage. Keith was still sprawled on the couch. Emily was beside him, stroking him as if he were a cat.

I caught Patrick’s eye and gestured toward the stairs. I went up, hoping he’d follow. I was halfway to the top when I heard his footsteps behind me.

In our bedroom, I handed him a bottle of water. “Are you okay?”