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“He left for New York.”
“Already?” I mumbled. When I looked up, the new receptionist was stumbling out of his office with flushed cheeks. Arnaud leered at her as she made her way back to her desk. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
Both pairs of eyes shot to me, hers huge, and his narrowed. “She’s fine,” Arnaud answered. “Would you like her to get David a message?”
My eyes darted between them. “No.”
Arnaud’s beady eyes stuck to me like glue, and I felt dirty just from the way he looked at me. He took a few steps toward me. “Then I’ll see you out,” he said.
I recoiled and walked speedily to the elevator, muttering something over my shoulder.
“Olivia?” he called, but I kept going because every part of me wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
I was disgusted. It was clear to me that I’d just witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to. I’d had enough of keeping my opinion of him to myself; I would tell David when I saw him next. For now, it bothered me that David might still be pissed at me or that he might think that I was angry. I went back to my office and crafted an e-mail.
From: Olivia Germaine
Sent: Wed, November 21, 2012 01:31 PM CST
To: David Dylan
Subject: Missed you
David,
I went to your office to talk, but I guess I missed you. I’m sorry about this morning – you were right, I was being irrational. However, that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like your possession. I know that you’re only being protective, but I have to be able to have my own life. That being said, I don’t want to take the trip without you. Gretchen will be disappointed, but we can go another time.
Olivia Germaine
Senior Editor,
Chicago Metropolitan Magazine
ChicagoMMag.com
In the late afternoon, my heart skipped happily when David’s name appeared on my cellphone. “Hi.”
“Hi, beautiful.”
“You’re not mad?” I asked.
“No. Thanks for the e-mail.”
“I’m sorry. I hate when we fight.”
“Me too. Look, I know you were looking forward to Miami. I was too. I’ll meet you there – ”
“Really?” I exclaimed.
“Yes, but not until Saturday morning. That way I can work late Friday to wrap things up.”
I sighed. “You work so much.”
“It’s the best I can do. I have to run. Anything else?”
I hesitated, debating if I should talk to him about Arnaud. It didn’t feel like something to do over the phone, so I let it go. “What about the bruises?” I asked.
“We’ll figure it out together when I see you.”
I smiled. “I love you,” I blurted. “And I miss you already.”
“You too, baby. I’ll call you before bed.”
I hung up feeling much better. We were back on the same page, and we would have our weekend in the sun.
~
Being alone in David’s apartment felt unnatural. I didn’t like sleeping
without him, and I told him so. His place was big, quiet and unfamiliar to me. Without him, my nightmares crept back in. They weren’t as jolting as they’d once been, but they edged my sleep still. And I could tell over the phone that it tore him apart to hear that.
I spent Thanksgiving morning writing, which made David ecstatic for some reason. I continued to do it because I enjoyed it and because I especially liked anything that made him that happy.
With a stern lesson from David about handling his baby, during which I painted my nails and made an occasional noise to indicate I was listening, he instructed that I take the Mercedes to his sister’s place in Joliet. It took me about forty-five minutes to get there, but I found her house easily. It was a two-story, traditional-style home with dark green shutters and a matching door.
She came outside to greet me with a hug. Inside, there were obvious signs of a ten-year-old boy strewn around the house: toy trucks, athletic trophies, video games, well-worn tennis shoes.
“Sorry it’s a mess,” she said, even though those things were mostly put away.
“It’s not,” I said. “It’s a home.”
“It definitely is,” she agreed.
It was just the three of us, as David’s parents were on a cruise for the week. Jessa had promised a casual meal for that reason and charged me with bringing a pumpkin pie.
She motioned that I should sit at the kitchen table as she finished cooking. “Excited for Florida tomorrow?”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “I could use the beach time.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Alex, how are you feeling since your appendectomy?” I asked when he came into the kitchen.
“Huh?”
“Your surgery, sweetie,” Jessa said.
“Fine.” He shrugged.
“I was more freaked than him,” Jessa said. “He had these awful cramps, so I took him right to the hospital. Good thing too, they said his appendix almost burst. Thank God for David. I was a mess. He told me he ran out on an important date with you, so thanks for that.”
I blushed. “Of course. I’m just glad Alex is okay.”
