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“They are,” I assured her finally. “Things are getting better.” It wasn’t at all convincing, but I was so tired of pretending. All the time. It was exhausting. What had David said to me? ‘It’s nothing compared to keeping it inside. I can’t hide it like you.’
I walked back to the patio without another word, knowing Lucy would follow. Everyone had returned to merry conversation, and nobody noticed our return. Except David, whose eyes were fixed on me. I allowed myself a quick glance in his direction. His expression was unreadable, which agitated me, but there was no pity in it. He looked almost angry when his gaze shifted over to Bill.
At a pause in the conversation, Bill kissed my hair. “All right?” he asked. He looked tired, I noticed. I only nodded with a quick smile.
As we spilled out of the Greenes’ home, we took turns wishing Lucy and Andrew a good trip. I avoided David and took off for the car but immediately wished I hadn’t. I watched from afar as Bill approached him. While I debated whether or not to interfere, David handed him something, and they shook hands. I bit my nail as Bill took eons to cross the pebbled driveway, rocks crunching loudly under his feet. The question burned at the tip of my tongue. Once we were driving away, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“What did he give you?” I blurted.
“Who?”
I grasped my earlobe between my fingers and hesitated. “David.”
“Oh, his card. We’re going to try and set something up this week. Jeanine’s been on my ass about what she should tell the owners.”
“Can’t we just hire an appraiser or something?”
“We’ll do that too, but I need his expert advice on what it’ll cost to renovate.”
“Why?”
“Because, babe, I don’t want to make an offer until I know what it’ll set us back.”
“No, why him?”
“Sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, according to Andrew. Plus, if I don’t have to pay someone, all the better.”
“Aha,” I muttered under my breath. I should have guessed, since saving money was one of Bill’s favorite hobbies.
“Something bothering you, sweet cheeks?” he asked sardonically.
I huffed in my seat and looked away. I’d brought this on myself, so why was I taking it out on Bill? The threat of Bill and David forming a friendship was too real. Fuck. Seriously, fuck. Now that he’s dating Dani, will he be around all the time?
Bill sighed, and I cast a sidelong glance at him. How could I have danced with David in front of everyone? Why didn’t I leave when I’d found him in the kitchen? I was playing with fire, but when in his company, I didn’t care. I just wanted more of him. I wondered what Bill had seen in the kitchen. Had he heard David’s question about moving on? I flipped on the air conditioning in the suddenly stifling car.
Whether Bill knew it or not, I was hurting him. Directly, indirectly, it was my fault he couldn’t perform the night before. I had changed something between us without him even knowing.
In the beginning, I had been drawn to Bill’s confidence. He was independent and successful. Things with him had been simple, gradual. But the traits that had attracted me to him also had their downsides. He was attentive when it was convenient for him. He was even keeled, like our relationship. He was mild – like our relationship. He didn’t dig, or probe, or question why things were the way they were because for him, it was enough.
David was not only attentive, but intuitive. Was he that way with all of his women? Though nothing had happened, I felt as though I’d misbehaved over the weekend. Everything about David felt intimate – the way he looked at me, his words, his touch. It wasn’t realistic to expect that my feelings would have changed in only three months. But what unsettled me was that they were as strong as ever.
Seeing David was a full-body experience. I felt heavy and light at the same time. He gives me butterflies, but they aren’t butterflies. They’re bigger and darker and scarier, like crows. They’re dangerous. And did Bill ever give me butterflies?
My relationship with Bill had started slow. When we would meet downstairs in the middle of the workday, I would feel happy, anticipatory. I liked his company as well as our conversations. Butterflies . . . . Were they there? Did I have them? Does it matter if I did? Since when do butterflies determine anything?
I wondered if David gave Dani butterflies or worse . . . did she excite him? Had he been hoping to see her in the kitchen rather than me? My mind clouded. Did he, would he, touch her like he had touched me? I pictured how he would undress her, stroke her skin, run his hands through her long hair. My teeth gritted as I saw her in his apartment, sitting on the couch where I had. In his bedroom as I had been. Wrapped up in his sheets. Tangled in his – Oh, God. It’s too much. I shuddered and shrank in my seat.
Maybe one day they would have their own wedding and their own honeymoon in Paris. Someone else would give a toast about finding ‘the one,’ and it wouldn’t include me. David was my mistake and if they ended up together, I would be his. I would be the blemish. The wife’s friend. The cheater.
CHAPTER 8
TAP, TAP, TAP. I stared down at the red pen jittering between my fingers and then at the clock: 11:20 a.m. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I stilled and looked blankly at the list of article topics in front of me. I was across the office to grab my jacket in one motion.
“Early lunch?” Jenny asked as I whizzed by her desk.
“Yep.”
I focused on the clicking of my heels against the pavement as I walked. Summer was ending, but it was warm and the sky was a clear blue. With each step toward my destination, I was a little lighter. Since the car ride home from Winnetka the day before, my mind had been in overdrive, and I needed . . . something. I didn’t know what exactly, or even what I wanted, but I thought I knew where to find it.
A fifteen-minute walk; a lifetime hanging in the balance. A choice. I stopped in front of the sleek, modern doors of Pierson/Greer. Just inside was the one who haunted my thoughts, the one I couldn’t forget. I reached out for the gilded handle and paused. After a moment, my hand fell to my side again. I backed away from the entrance and pinched the bridge of my nose. Don’t do this, Olivia. Let it lie. Let it be. Don’t do this . . . . I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead and paced along the sidewalk. What did I want from David? What answers could he provide? I needed to know why this was happening. Why I was beginning to feel more and more like I was being torn in half.
I stopped my tread finally and sighed up at the tall building. With sagging shoulders, I turned around and idled back the way I’d come.
At the first convenience store, I ducked inside. I was craving comfort food in a way I hadn’t been lately. I headed straight for the freezer, promising myself that things would get easier. I slid open the door and selected an ice cream sandwich, knowing I just had to stay strong. I walked to the cashier, determined not to break down in the middle of a convenience store. With one hand cradling my purchase, I used the other to fish out a couple dollar bills from my wallet.
“Hey, go easy on that ice cream, honeybee.” My heart leaped, and I turned to see David filling the doorway. He tilted his head and smiled at me. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be over on Adams, making some Bachelors miserable?”
I just stared, blinking as sunlight illuminated him from behind.
His eyebrows folded. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No,” I replied as his cologne slowly wafted into my orbit. “I mean y
es, I’m fine. You startled me.”
“Well, I do work right down the street.”
“I know . . . .”
“Of course you do. Is that your lunch?”
I followed his curious gaze to my hands. “Um. No, I – I . . . ,” I stammered. I fumbled to set it on the counter. I shouldn’t be there. To run into him was one thing, but I had sought him out. Grasping the strap of my purse, I hurried to the doorway, where he swiveled to let me through.
“I never got to tell you how much I enjoyed the issue.”
My head shot up, but I continued my stride. “What?”
“The Most Eligible issue,” David said. “The feature had a fresh, creative touch. You deserve that promotion.”
“Oh.” I slowed fractionally to sync with his relaxed gait. “Thanks.”
He handed me the ice cream sandwich. “Here.”
“Did you steal this?” I asked with widened eyes.
He laughed loudly. “No, of course not. I bought it for you.”
After a slight hesitation, I accepted it and started to peel away the wrapper.
“What did you think of my part?”
“Hmm?” I asked as I took a bite.
“The article. What did you think?”
I swallowed and feigned interest in the sidewalk. “Your pictures caused quite the commotion.”
“What did you think though?”
“I thought . . . ,” I paused, exhaling loudly. “I thought that you looked very handsome. Lisa did a nice job.”
“And the interview?”
I squinted ahead and took another bite of the softening ice cream. A young guy dropped his skateboard on the ground and zoomed by us. “I didn’t read it.”
We stopped at a corner and waited for the light to change. I looked up at him as vanilla dripped down my fingers. I tried to convey with my eyes what I couldn’t with my words. That I hadn’t read it because it was too painful. That since the day I’d left, I could never forget the hurt in his eyes. Even in my heels, my head was almost vertical when I said, “I’m sorry.”
