Chapter 4 Brazenly Unapologetic

“Hey, look, isn’t that Vance?” Sophia asked aloud, with sudden interest. “Who’s that woman with him?”

Chloe craned her neck to look at the entrance to the center. Curiosity quickly gave way to recognition.

“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out. “That’s Catherine, isn’t it? The one Vance used to…”

Sophia shifted her gaze to Rebecca, and the sympathy etched on her face was so exaggerated, it was almost cruel.

“Wait,” Sophia said, lowering her voice, “you didn’t stalk Vance here, did you? God, Rebecca. That’s actually sad.”

Chloe laughed. “Imagine chasing your own husband, to spy on his date.”

Rebecca heard what they hadn’t said aloud: that her husband and his first love had come here together, brazenly unapologetic, as if there was nothing strange about it at all.

Rebecca shifted her attention to the lane rope in front of her, pretending she had not heard. She had become good at that, inside the Bradford family.

At the aquatic center entrance, Vance Bradford stood in a dark gray lightweight sweater, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. In one hand he carried a woman’s handbag and a thermos; while the other hand hovered near Catherine’s waist, not quite touching her, intimate and protective.

Catherine wore a cream-colored tennis dress and flat ballet shoes. Her hair was gathered loosely at the back of her head, soft tendrils framing a face made delicate by careful paleness. She was fragility without disorder, as if even feminine weakness could flatter her. Her dress showed no visible sign of pregnancy but every few steps, her right hand drifted lightly over her belly. A gesture small enough to seem unconscious, and precise enough to be noticed.

Rebecca felt Vance look over at her.

She knew his gaze too well, not because he looked at her often, but because he rarely did. During their marriage, she had learned to catch those brief moments the way one caught light glinting on glass — quickly, before it vanished.

This time, it lasted no more than two seconds.

Then he purposefully looked away.

He didn’t come over, nor ask why Rebecca was here. He didn’t even look surprised at finding his wife at a swimming pool when he arrived with the woman he loved — the morning after he had failed to come home.

“Careful,” he warned Catherine. “The floor’s wet.”

Catherine smiled up at him, and he guided Catherine over toward the warm-up pool.

Catherine held lightly to his arm as she crossed the anti-slip mats. She took a lounge chair near the poolside. Vance set the thermos within her reach and took a seat beside her.

Catherine glanced in Rebecca’s direction. There was something difficult to name in her expression. A fleeting shock chased away not by triumph exactly, and not guilt either but something softer.

Leaning over to Vance, she said quietly, “Should you go and say something to your wife? She’s there all alone.”

It was perfectly phrased. Considerate, even. Anyone overhearing it would have thought Catherine was kind.

Rebecca’s fingers tightened against the tiles on the edge of the pool.

Vance didn’t respond. He poured warm tea from the thermos into the cup, and handed it to Catherine before answering.

“No. I’m sure she’s here to exercise. She won’t want to be disturbed.”

Rebecca lowered her eyes to the pool water.

So, he did know.

He knew why she was here, or at least enough to make an excuse out of it. He had seen her, explained away her presence, and chosen not to cross the few yards between them.

She pushed away from the edge and swam a lap.

The movement was not as smooth as it used to be. Her shoulders resisted. Her breath caught too early. By the time she reached the end of the lane, her arms trembled beneath the water, but she kept going anyway because stopping might be interpreted as giving up.

When she finally climbed out, water streamed from her body, leaving a trail of dark footprints across the tiles. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, staring straight ahead as she headed toward the changing room.

However, there was no route she could take that didn’t pass the warm-up pool.

Vance leaned in closer to Catherine, holding his phone as he showed her something on the screen. To all appearances, they looked like a couple discussing private plans, heads inclined close together with a familiarity that needed no explanation.

Sophia and Chloe had moved down from the spectators’ seats and were now sitting with Catherine and Vance. Chloe held up her phone, angling it for photographs. Sophia leaned close to Catherine with the confidential air of a girl who loved being near a scandal as long as it wasn’t about her.

Chloe urged, “Lean in closer, Vance, I want a photo of you two.”

Catherine laughed and pushed playfully at his shoulder as he hunched closer to her.

As Rebecca passed them, Catherine looked up. Their eyes met for the space of a breath.

Catherine turned to Vance and murmured quietly, “She really doesn’t resent me, does she? That’s good. I was worried she might feel uncomfortable.”

Rebecca’s steps slowed before she could stop them.

The changing-room door was just ahead. She could have kept walking. She should have. But Catherine continued, soft and sincere, each word placed with deliberate care.

“After all, she saved your life. Sometimes I think, if it hadn’t been for her, you wouldn’t be here now, and neither would this baby.”

Then she said, “I should be grateful to her. Do you think there’s anything I could do for her?” The faux guilt in her tone was delicate enough to be admired.

“You don’t need to do anything for her,” Vance said. His voice was calm and reasonable. “She doesn’t need it.”

“Rebecca,” Catherine called softly. “Would you like to sit with us for a while?” She smiled at Rebecca, warm and apologetic, with just enough hesitation to make the invitation seem generous rather than pointed.

Sophia and Chloe turned at once, looking directly at Rebecca.

Vance lifted his head, too.

Catherine’s smile didn’t falter. “It’s warmer over here by the warm-up pool. You must be cold after swimming.”

Rebecca paused a few steps away, her towel clutched around her shoulders, wet hair dripping down her neck. For a moment, she simply looked at Catherine.

There was no accusation in Catherine’s face. That was what made it so difficult to answer. She had offered humiliation disguised as kindness, and to reject it openly would only make Rebecca appear spiteful.

So, Rebecca didn’t answer. She turned back toward the changing rooms.

Behind her, the brief silence that followed was more awkward than any refusal. Catherine’s smile had been left hanging in the air, too public to be withdrawn gracefully.

Vance asked, “Have you finished your swim, Rebecca?”

His tone was almost courteous, as if they had met at a business function and not in the middle of a life that he had divided so neatly between wife and lover.

Rebecca paused. “Yes.”

She didn’t say anything else. Not because she felt strong, but because anything further would have sounded shaky.

Vance looked at her for another moment. His expression held no panic, no shame, only that familiar distance he wore so well. Then his attention returned to Catherine, as naturally as if Rebecca had been no more than someone passing through.

Rebecca headed toward the changing room.

Sophia’s voice followed her, lowered but still audible. “Why did she just leave? She barely answered Vance.”

“But really, what could she say?” Chloe murmured.

Catherine said kindly, “Don’t say that. It can’t be easy for her.”