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“I’ll just line those times up with Valerie’s custody dates,” he explained.
“What happened to using that time to see El-Mudad?” That was something I wouldn’t budge on. It was difficult enough to see him. We couldn’t sacrifice the only opportunities available.
“Darling, these are all things we can figure out as we go along,” Neil insisted. “And I haven’t made any permanent choices. But you know it’s difficult for me—”
“To just walk away,” I finished for him. “I know. Maybe I could use some of that, myself.”
“You sound rather mopey, for someone who’s just come from a party.”
I put the call on speakerphone and went to the refrigerator. “Yeah, well. It was hard to summon up a lot of enthusiasm to celebrate something you had absolutely no part in.”
“You’re not being very fair to yourself.” If anyone on the planet was a Sophie Scaife cheerleader, it was Neil.
But I couldn’t let him cheer me on when I was on such a losing streak of my own making. “No, I think it’s very fair. I’m hardly ever at the office. When I am there, I have no idea what’s going on. There were employees there tonight that I’d never even seen before. I’m surprised Deja hasn’t revoked my security pass.”
“Is there something going on that you’re not telling me?” Neil asked cautiously. “Have you fallen out with Deja?”
“No. Just the usual. Except Holli commented on it. She’s getting a little touchy about the fact that her wife is constantly overworked because I’m underworking.” The refrigerator wasn’t stocked the way it used to be when we lived here, but there was fruit and cheese and my favorite salami, which I only ate as a treat. “Aw, look what I just found in the fridge.”
“I can’t look. We’re on the phone. But, yes, I know.” He sounded pleased at his surprise. “I thought you might need a post-party snack.”
“Post-party stress eating,” I corrected him. “And you could see if you would be willing to FaceTime me.”
“Not from a phone. You know it makes my face look fat,” he grumbled. “If you want to work more, you can. I hope you don’t feel like you have to fill a gap at home. I’m not being neglected. Olivia certainly isn’t being neglected. I don’t want you to feel tied here, to your detriment.”
“I don’t feel tied.” I just didn’t feel like working. “This is all just different than I expected it to be.”
“Expectations sometimes have that dismal effect on reality.”
We lapsed into a pause.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Keep me from what?” I forced a laugh as I looked around the kitchen, empty of all but the most impersonal of decor. When Neil had lived here full-time, there had been pictures on the walls and paintings he liked, music playing almost all the time in one room of the house or another. The silence around me was disquieting, not just from a lack of sound, but a lack of life that penetrated every corner of the place. It wasn’t haunted; it was haunting.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised. “We’ll pick you up.”
“That seems silly. You’re going to have to backtrack—”
“I would rather not be alone.”
Right. I could be such an idiot, sometimes. “I get it. And it’ll give me a chance to say goodbye to Olivia before she goes. What time will you be here?”
“I’ll try to be there by nine. I’ll bring breakfast. Maybe that quiche from Lafayette?” he suggested, trying to brighten up his tone.
“Florentine, if they have it.” My stomach rumbled as I reached for a plate. Now that I’d thought of the quiche, salami and cheese and grapes wouldn’t cut it. “I think I’m going to take all of this food into that great big bed—”
“Oh, please don’t!” he begged.
“I’m going to eat crackers and get the crumbs all over—”
“This is not the kind of dirty talk I want from my wife!”
“Mmm, I might even bring a jar of mustard in there with me.” I followed up with an orgasmic moan.
“You’re treading very dangerous waters,” Neil warned, his voice playfully low. “You know what I like to do to bad, bad girls.”
I laughed. “You make a lot of disgusted faces at them and tell the housekeeper to change the sheets.”
“Exactly right.” When he laughed, he sounded tired.
“It’s late. You go get your rest,” I told him, though my heart dropped at the realization of how not-lonely the apartment felt when I was on the phone with him, and how that barren loneliness would crash back over the place when we hung up. But I couldn’t keep him on the line forever.
“All right. Olivia and I will be there at nine. We’ll bring a tribute of egg and spinach,” he promised. “And if you masturbate tonight, please think of me.”
