Chapter 10 - The Christmas Eve Guest
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I stared at Margaret as she hung up the phone.
“You just invited my husband’s mistress to Christmas Eve dinner,” I whispered, genuinely wondering if the stress had finally caused her to snap.
“I invited the woman he violently insists is not his mistress,” Margaret corrected, picking up a fresh carrot.
“I don’t know whether to hug you or check you for a severe fever.”
Margaret smiled a tight, dangerous little smile. “If Daniel wants to build his entire defense around the ridiculous idea that this relationship is purely platonic, let him attempt to perform that lie in front of an audience. Liars hate an audience.”
Christmas Eve arrived wrapped in a picturesque, thin layer of fresh white snow.
Inside the Bennett house, Robert had lit a roaring fire in the hearth. The smell of honey-baked ham, scalloped potatoes, and Margaret’s famous cranberry sauce filled the warm air. It felt like a holiday movie, right up until the doorbell rang.
I was wearing a pair of simple black trousers and a cream-colored cashmere sweater. I had made a conscious decision not to dress up. I wasn't going to wear a revenge dress or paint on dramatic makeup to prove I was prettier, younger, or more desirable than Vanessa. I was profoundly exhausted by the societal expectation that women should have to compete over a man who had already failed both of them.
Daniel arrived at exactly six-ten.
Vanessa Reed stood nervously beside him on the front porch. She was carrying a bottle of expensive red wine. She looked terrified, which actually brought me a small amount of comfort. It meant that at least one person besides me understood how deeply inappropriate and wrong this situation was.
“Emily,” Vanessa said, her voice shaking slightly as she stepped into the foyer.
“Vanessa,” I replied, offering nothing more than a polite nod.
Daniel awkwardly kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thanks for doing this, Mom.”
“Of course, darling,” Margaret smiled warmly, taking their coats.
Robert did not smile at all. He offered Daniel a curt nod and completely ignored the bottle of wine Vanessa held out to him.
Dinner began with an excruciating, suffocating politeness.
We passed the potatoes. Robert, playing the role of the gracious host through gritted teeth, asked Vanessa where she worked. She nervously explained that she handled billing for a mid-sized medical supply company downtown. Margaret asked polite questions about Vanessa’s son, Tyler, who was apparently spending the holiday with his father.
For about ten minutes, she stopped being the faceless 'Other Woman'. She became a real, tangible person. A mother who liked hockey and dinosaurs.
That made the entire ordeal infinitely more complicated and painful.
But then, Daniel made a mistake.
As he sat down next to Vanessa after grabbing a second roll, he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair. His thumb lightly brushed against her shoulder blade. It was a gesture born of muscle memory. Automatic. Familiar. Intimate.
I saw it. Margaret saw it. Robert definitely saw it.
May you like
Vanessa noticed our eyes tracking the movement. She flushed deeply and shifted forward in her seat, trying to create distance. Daniel, completely oblivious to the silent communication happening around him, kept his hand right where it was.
The trap was set.
