Marlys

Lack of sleep leaves my mind a foggy mess this morning. Climbing out of bed, I quickly shower and dress. Before the bathroom mirror, I hold my own gaze, practicing the smile I'll plaster on at breakfast. But the closer I look, into the depths of my irises, it's as if an entirely different person is reflecting back at me. It's unnerving, and my skin prickles. I splash water over my face, resetting my demeanour.

Behind me, Hunter stirs in bed. The pain from hours earlier, finally dissipating, yet the emotional toll remains.

How did things go from wonderful to... whatever this is, now?

Deep down, I know the answer, but I can't bring myself to acknowledge it. Not yet.

Racing downstairs to the kitchen, I prepare breakfast. Half an hour later, Hunter strolls into the adjoining dining room, fumbling with his tie.

"Good morning," I say, forcing out the words along with a sweet smile. "Coffee?"

He glances up at me, finally finished with his tie, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Thanks."

Sliding into a chair, he pulls out his phone, reading something that makes his brows furrow unnaturally close together. I set down his breakfast before him, placing one hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. But he's fixated on the screen.

"Is everything alright?" I ask, trying to see what's captivating his interest.

He rips the phone away, shoving it into his jackets breast pocket. "What have I told you about reading over my shoulder?"

I take a small step backwards, retreating to a safe distance. He must notice my unease and forcibly smooths out his expression.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap." He runs a hand through his pristine hair, ruffling it ungracefully. "I've got a lot on my mind right now. Some... things are not going as planned."

Smiling weakly, I don't say a word.

"Kage isn't up yet," he says, but it's more a question as to why I haven't ensured he's up and ready for school.

"Um, about that," I say, yet I don't want to throw him under the bus either. Rummaging through my mind, I find an acceptable excuse for his absence. "He's not well today."

"He's sick? He was fine yesterday," he says like he doesn't believe me.

Rising from his seat, he walks over to me standing on the other side of the kitchen island, and hands me his coffee cup. He leans in toward my cheek, dabbing a brief practised kiss, devoid of all emotion. I pass him his lunch, prepared earlier along with a note, smiling flawlessly.

"It's probably just a twenty-four-hour bug. Don't worry about it, you have enough on your mind. I'll take care of him."

"Alright then," he says, turning away.

"Everything ready for the dinner party?" Hunter asks, but it feels like a challenge. One I'm now realising I've teetered very close to failing.

"That's tonight?" I ask, as my pulse begins to race. I can't believe I forgot about that, but I can't admit my faux pas to him, or else all hell will break loose. He watches me like his eyes are burrowing into my brain and reading my mind. My lip twitches, searching for an answer. "Of course. Everything is planned. I just need to grab a few things from the grocery store. Will you be home before the guests arrive?"

"Should be," he nods curtly. "Everything will be perfect?" His gaze shifts to a side table, then runs a finger over the top like he's expecting it to be filthy. Then huffs dismissively. "Right, Marlys?" I nod, despite the growing anxiety. "Good. And make sure Xander is here. I need his advice on something."

"Okay," I say, nodding. "Have a good day." But he's already out of earshot, in his office. It's that, or he's just being decidedly dismissive. Either could be true.

Through the glass panels of the office door, I watch him grab a messy stack of papers from his desk, stuffing them into his briefcase, before shooting towards the front door.

I suck in a deep breath as it slams behind him, unmoving until I hear his car leave. My shoulders fall, letting out a haggard sigh, now breathing easier. But then I spot something on the stairwell.

Kage stomps slowly down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. He ambles over toward the kitchen, sliding into a chair at the table, slouching against the tabletop. After reheating his breakfast, I pull it from the microwave, placing it in front of him at the table.

Little Liquorice meows, rubbing against his leg. He pushes her away, but she meows again like she's telling him off for his dismissal. Spinning around in a figure eight, she weaves through his legs before returning to her original position. Her head rubs against his hairy leg, but he doesn't shoe her away this time. Rather, a small smile creeps up the side of his face, as he pats his thigh, beckoning her to jump up.

She pounces onto his lap, instinctively rubbing against his chin. Watching him drop his guard like that is heartwarming. It's sweet and kind and gives me hope that perhaps he won't turn out just like his father. But then again, Hunter had groomed me too, hadn't he? Drawing me in, petting me just like this feline, until he'd gained all of my trust.

I choose hope for Kage; to see the beauty instead of the ugliness. He is capable of so much more. Perhaps he can be the man that his father couldn't be. Will never be. That maybe his mother's DNA might sway him to 'the good side' instead.

"Will you be alright if I pop next door for a few minutes?" I ask Kage. He's tearing apart his bacon, offering tiny portions to the feline in between his own mouthfuls.

"Of course," he scoffs. "Do you think Liquorice and I are going to throw a rave while you're gone?"

"Ok, I won't be long," I say, ignoring his sarcasm.

Maybe I should lock the door behind me? My hand rests on the doorknob, hesitating for a moment. It'll be fine for a few minutes, surely. Closing it, I head over to Xander's. Rapping my knuckles on the front door, I wait for a moment before it opens. He greets me, coffee in hand, breakfast radio playing in the background.

"Marlys. Hey," he says. He seems happy to see me, but there's also an ounce of surprise.

"Hey, Xander. I'm really sorry to disturb you so early," I say, glancing briefly at the mug in his hand. "I can come back later if you're still waking up."

"No, it's fine. Come in, I'll get you a cup." Waving a hand, he ushers me inside, but I shake my head apologetically.

"Actually, as much as I'd love to, I really don't have time today. I just came over to invite you to the dinner party tonight."

Xander rests against the door frame, crossing his ankles. "Dinner party, huh?"

"Please come," I say almost begging. "Hunter wants you there."

His eyebrows shoot high on his forehead. "He does, does he?"

I nod. "He said he might need your advice, but I don't know what about. A work thing, I think. He doesn't talk to me about that kind of thing, but I've noticed he's been stressed a lot more than usual lately." Xander's watchful gaze tells me I'm bumbling, and I force myself to quiet.

Rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his chin, he appears to consider the request. "For you, Marlys. I'll be there."

"Thanks, Xander. You're a lifesaver," I say, unable to hide my delight. "Anyway, I'd better get back-lots of prep still to do. I'll see you at seven."

Ticking the first task off my list, I set home, scanning the street as I walk. My skin prickles as if someone has eyes on me, burning into my skin. It's unsettling, especially so early in the morning. Nearing home, I note something sticking out of the letter box. The mailman hasn't come yet, though. I never see him before lunch, at the earliest.

My stomach knots as I pull the envelope out. On the front, written in elegant, black cursive script, is the single word, 'Hunter'. A solid black line underlines his name with a full stop situated where the line ends. But the thing that sticks out the most is the lack of mailing or return address, and there's no postage stamp either. There's not a single clue that tells me who the sender is. An icy shiver runs up my spine as it occurs to me that the sender, whomever they are, must've been here. At our home. I scan the street again, still feeling uneasy. Yet nothing appears out of place.

Inside, the remnants of Kage's breakfast rest on the table, whilst he's spread out on the lounge, TV blaring something I'm not familiar with. Perhaps I should try and talk to him about the school incident again? To figure out how to fix whatever mess he's gotten himself into. But then again, I have so much to do before tonight. Do I really have the time? The guilt eats at me, putting the dinner party preparations ahead of him. It feels wrong, and selfish, yet the truth is, he'd probably respond negatively, anyway. And then there would be Hunter to deal with, especially if dinner doesn't go off without a hitch.

Instead, I clean up from breakfast before putting together a menu for tonight. I set up the formal dining room for dinner, and after cleaning the rest of the ground floor, I head upstairs to get ready at six-thirty. The doorbell chimes at six fifty-five, and I race downstairs to greet the first guest.

I straighten my knee length, figure-hugging black dress - the one that Hunter bought for the first corporate event we attended as a couple - glancing in the mirror to ensure my make-up is on point. With straightened posture, and perfected smile I open the door to greet the first guest. But when I see Xander standing before me, the feigned smile changes to something more natural. I'm truly happy to see him. I know he'll help me get through this corporate drone of a dinner.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I take him by the elbow, ushering him inside. Guiding him through the entryway towards the lounge room where the guests will enjoy pre-dinner drinks.

"Thank goodness you got here first."

"You look stunning, Marlys," he says after scanning me top to toe. My face warms under his gaze.

The bar holds an impressive collection of top tier liquor bottles, lined up like soldiers. "Thanks, Xander. What can I get you?"

"I'll take a scotch, if you have it." Pouring him his drink, I hand it to him. Swapping it for the bottle he arrived with. "A little something to go with dessert."

The label says it's a five-year-old, limited release botrytis semillon. "Sounds wonderful, thank you. Please, sit. Get comfy. I'll pop this in the fridge and be right back." With the wine in the refrigerator, I return to the lounge room, enjoying a glass of Moscato while we await the remaining guests.

"How are things going, anyway?" Xander asks. He's referring to my respective relationships with Hunter, and Kage, but now isn't the time for deep and meaningful conversation. Especially since Hunter will be home any minute.

"So, so," I reply, half-heartedly.

"I see." He pauses for a long moment, before changing the topic. "What have you cooked up for us tonight then, Marlys?"

My answer is cut short by the sound of the front door opening. I spring to my feet and hurry to the door, worried that I didn't hear our guests arrive. But there are no guests, just Hunter. He studies me, frowning and checking his watch.

"Has anyone arrived yet?" he asks impatiently.

"Just Xander," I say, tipping my head towards the lounge room. "Do you want to wash up first, or will you be joining him for a drink?"

He walks towards the lounge room, with me following behind, trying to catch up.

"I'll take a whiskey, thanks hun." But the warmth of his words throws me off guard. It's been so long since we've been in public together, I'd almost forgotten what it's like.

In the armchair, he sits with one ankle resting on his knee. Handing him the whiskey; he responds in kind, briefly rubbing his hand on my lower back. He thanks me, raising my hand to his lips, and pressing a kiss against it. The sensation is a blurry mix of the old Hunter I once knew, the passion he had for me, but also dreadfully chilling, a reminder of what's hiding in plain sight.

I recall last night. It's only one night of many, just like it. An invisible album of memories I'd rather forget. My heart twists with ire, fuelling a sullen rage within. But now is not the time. Push it back down, Marlys.

"Xander, what are you doing for work at the moment?" He takes a long sip of his drink.

"Officially, I'm in early retirement, but I dabble in some consulting work from time to time."

Hunter jiggles his cup from side to side, ice clinking against the glass. "I might have some work for you, then."

It seems both men have forgotten I'm still in the room. But despite invisibility, I detect an odd look that passes between them. Something unspoken but with a shared understanding. I thought they were merely acquaintances - neighbours - not close friends, like this exchange would have me believe. But perhaps I'm reading too much into it.

The doorbell rings again.

Hunter looks at me. "Marlys, do you mind getting that please?" Do I mind? Please? Those words seem foreign coming from him, but I play the part of devoted and obedient wife.

I greet a couple at the door. I can't say I remember meeting them before, but I usher them in, offering drinks once we reach the others.

Hunter places his glass on the table and stands, buttoning his jacket, before approaching the man. He pulls him into a half-hearted hug, patting him on the back three times before releasing him. Though I notice a stiffness in the man's posture. He's not as thrilled to see Hunter as Hunter is to see him.

"Xander, you remember Grayson Whitmore?" Hunter announces, one arm still wrapped around the man.

"How could I forget? Grayson, it's been quite a while," Xander replies. Standing, he proffers a brief handshake before turning to the woman by Grayson's side. He tilts his head slightly. "And you must be his better half?"

The woman elegantly holds out her hand. "Brielle Maddox. And no, we're not together, just business partners." Her voice is as silky smooth as the dress that flows from the thin straps on her shoulders, down to her ankles, where it meets her four-inch heels. She turns to face my husband, who holds her stare for an awkwardly long moment that makes me question how well the two of them know each other. But then his expression shifts back to the professional façade.

"Brielle, this is my wife, Marlys," he says, wrapping an arm around my waist as if he owns me. And while the words sound friendly enough, it's almost as though he's giving her an unspoken warning.

Turning to me, she offers a hand. Unlike when she greeted Hunter, her smile now displays a kindness that radiates from her eyes. Her voice is warm and gentle. "Marlys, it's so lovely to put a face to the name. Thank you for having us."

I return the smile. "It's my, uh, our pleasure," I say, bumbling over my words. Yet, I see Hunter give me a fleeting, reproving glance. Think before you speak, Marlys. "Can I get you both a drink before dinner?"

Fifteen minutes later, I usher the group into the formal dining room. Hunter sits at the head of the table, of course. My seat is to his left, but I remain standing as the others sit; Xander beside me, whilst Grayson sits opposite me to Hunter's right, and Brielle opposite Xander. I hurry back to the kitchen, quickly but carefully plating up the entrees. Bringing two plates at a time, I serve Hunter first, then Grayson, followed by the other two guests on the next trip, before placing my own on the table.

Two bottles of wine rest beside the floral centrepiece - one red, and one white. I offer each guest their preference then take my seat.

Hunter raises his glass. "To successful business ventures."

The others raise their glasses, but Grayson doesn't smile. His lips draw into a tight line and his jaw clenches. Xander clinks his glass against mine, then offers it to clink against Grayson, while the others do the same before placing their glasses down.

I hope this entrée is to Hunter's liking, and that it goes down well with the others. Watching him take the first bite, I hold my breath, teetering on the edge of my seat. But then his forehead crinkles and nods in satisfaction. A sense of relief comes over me as I finally take a bite.

"This is just lovely Marlys," Brielle says. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

I'm uncomfortable with the compliment, since I seldom get them. "I'm largely self-taught. Not having to work has its benefits, plenty of time to make a mess in the kitchen."

"Indeed," she says, watching me. "That will be a blessing for you when you have children."

Hunter clears his throat, interrupting the conversation. "Marlys doesn't want children. Besides, she's already got her hands full with Kage." But that isn't true at all. I do want children of my own - someday. Just not right now, and, maybe not even with Hunter. But he'd kill me if I admitted that out loud. No, that's a secret I'll keep to myself. One that even Xander doesn't know.

"Kage?" Brielle asks curiously.

"My stepson," I reply, gently. "Hunter's son from his first marriage."

"Oh, I see," she remarks, turning to Hunter. "I wasn't aware you'd been married before. Is this your second marriage then?"

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. But then I catch him flashing Xander a quick panicked expression. "Yes, something like that."

Brielle looks at me with pity. "I read an article recently. It was quite interesting, but also very sad. Were you aware that the odds of a second marriage working out is even lower than the odds of a first marriage - which I think half end in divorce, so maybe half of that again, one in four are successful. Odds are even worse for third marriages." But then she lets out a bubbly laugh. "What do I know, though? Those numbers are probably all skewed anyway."

"Anyway, enough of that," Hunter says, diverting the conversation. "We're here to talk business. Aren't we?"

Under the table, Xander pats my leg, reassuringly. Yet my mind is still reeling over those statistics. Did our marriage really start out having only a one in four chance of success? I wish I'd known that a year ago.

Grayson speaks in a low tone. "If we can strike a deal that works for everyone, perhaps."

Brielle smiles, trying to ease the palpable tension. "We just want to make sure the deal is fair this time."

"Exactly, and no underhanded tactics," Grayson adds, pulling his brows together.

Hunter leans back in his chair, swirling his glass. "Grayson, you know me better than that. Everything I do is above board."

Grayson's tight smile barely shifts, voice calm and measured. "That's not how I remember it."

Brielle reaches for her wine, her delicate fingers tracing the rim of the glass before lifting it. "Let's not dredge up the past," she says smoothly, her eyes hovering towards Hunter. "We all know how the business world works. What matters is moving forward."

Hunter nods. "Of course. We're all on the same page here."

As I watch him speak, I see it again. The strange look between him and Brielle. "Well Hunter, it's reassuring to know you're such an upstanding man." She turns to me. "You must be so proud of your husbands success. Business-savvy, and handsomely charming."

I nod, but I don't want to say anything that might add to this tense exchange. Masking my unease, I smile broadly, standing from the table. "Please excuse me, the next course is ready."

Moving around the table, I gather the empty entrée dishes and head to the kitchen. My mind recoils to the strange glances at the table - the one between Hunter and Brielle, and towards Xander. It's curious being on the edge like this. Not knowing the truth of their shared histories. Knowing that you're the odd one out.

I stack the dishwasher, before serving the main meals atop the kitchen island, concentrating intently. When it's done, I take a step back, double checking that I've plated it to perfection. That's what's expected, after all. I pick up two of the plates, balancing precariously.

"Need a hand?" Xander offers, unexpectedly rounding the corner.

Skittery, I jump, both plates overbalancing in my hands. One falls to the floor in a sloppy hot mess of pasta, but Xander rushes forward, saving the other. I'd been so into my thoughts I hadn't even noticed him enter the room.

"Oh, my goodness, look at this mess," I say, scanning the splatter. Tears well in my eyes, as I gather the mess in paper towels. Xander crouches to my position on the floor, resting a hand on my wrist.

"Let me," he says kindly, "It's my fault after all," but I shake my head.

"You're a guest, you shouldn't be cleaning up. You shouldn't even be in here," I say.

Grabbing the paper towel from my hands, he proceeds to clean up. "Don't be ridiculous, Marlys. We're neighbours - friends - there's no need for formalities with me."

"Fine," I huff, but I appreciate the help.

Replacing the lost meal, I garner the extra serves and ready the other plate for serving. A minute later Xander follows me into the formal dining room, serving up the meals.

"Everything OK in there?" Hunter asks.

I wave his concern off, worrying the truth might dampen his reasonably good mood. "It was nothing. Just a little accident, it's all sorted out now."

The conversation through the main meal is more light-hearted than before, but it's almost as if it's a mask. Is that for my benefit? I'm not sure. I serve dessert along with the wine Xander had brought with him, without further incident and I suspect the evening went about as well as Hunter could have hoped for. When all is said and done, I take Hunter's arm, following the guests to the front door.

"Thank you again, Marlys, for a wonderful evening. Perhaps we can do it again sometime," Brielle says, brushing her hand against my upper arm.

I nod. "That sounds lovely."

Hunter and Grayson share a few whispered words as Brielle, and I exchange contact details. Watching them head back to their car, I close the door. I turn to Hunter, but he's already gone. I find him in the lounge room, another whiskey in hand, tapping out something on his phone. His concerned expression is evident as he concentrates on whatever, and whomever, he is messaging.

When he's done, he squares it away, back in his jacket pocket. Placing his cup on the table beside him, he stands, finally noticing me in the room.

"Are you going somewhere?" I ask, watching him button his jacket.

"I need to see Xander," he says matter-of-factly.

"What? Now? It's late," I say, glancing at the wall clock above the television.

"Don't wait up," he says, brushing my concern aside. He brushes past me, but then pauses for a second, taking a step backwards to stand in front of me. I hold his stare, heart pounding not knowing what's going through his head. Then his expression changes. For the briefest of moments, I see the old Hunter. The kind, loving one, that would do anything for me. He raises his hand to my cheek. I flinch, but he makes contact. It's gentle, and warm, confusion spreading through my mind and my body. Then in one swift move, he brushes his lips against mine, tender and passionate. And I almost forget about all the toxic in our relationship. As fast as it began, it ends, and Hunter heads out the door.

A short while later, laying in bed under the comforter, my mind replays the nights events in sharp fragmented moments. Grayson's clenched jaw, Brielle's too-bright smile, and the lingering glances that passed over the table, like I wasn't even there. And the confusing kiss from Hunter.

Then there was the envelope with elegant script spelling out his name. I didn't tell him about it, but maybe I should have.