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“You might want to check with the security company and see if there was a glitch on their end.... Anything else going on?”
“Well, I’m happy to report I made progress on the Brittany front. She even cooked me an omelet tonight.”
“Thatisprogress! How did it taste?”
“Delicious, actually.”
As she says it, Brittany’s comments worm their way inside Emma’s head again, and she feels an echo of her earlier unease. But then she watches Tom toss his pants onto the chair in that easy, boylike way of his, and reassures herself once more that he doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, that he’d never tell a lie to engage with a woman.
“That’s nice to hear,” he says distractedly, his attention now on his shirt buttons.
“And since she’s had dinner with one of us the last two nights, surely she won’t mind being excluded from date night tomorrow,” Emma says as she wanders to the bed and peels back the covers.
“Are you turning in now?” he asks.
“I thought so. Aren’t you?”
“In a bit, but I need to pop into my office and review a contract for another client. We want to get it to them first thing tomorrow.”
“Um, okay.”
He pulls on a pair of pajama bottoms and kisses her on the forehead. “See you in the morning.”
Emma waits for Tom to leave the room before switching off the light on her bedside table. A light breeze slips in through the partially open window, rustling the curtains and tickling her bare arms, and as pulls up the sheet a little, she hears the click of Tom’s office door shutting at the end of the hall.
Her sense of déjà vu intensifies: Tom wasn’t only late again, but he seems as distracted as he did Tuesday night. Perhaps, despite how long people lingered at the dinner, the evening fell flat somehow, or maybe his meeting with Webster is continuing to reverberate, unsettling him despite his solid alibi.
Emma makes a valid effort to summon sleep, but she’s still awake an hour later when the bedroom door eases open and Tom crawls in between the sheets.
“Everything look good?” she murmurs.
“What?”
“With the contract?”
“Oh, yeah, by and large,” he says. “Needs some tweaking. Night, sweetheart.”
“Night.”
Another hour later, Emma’s still awake, and she can tell from his breath patterns that Tom is, too. When she shifts onto her side and peers through the darkness with her eyelids mostly closed, she sees that he’s lying on his back, his eyes wide open and fastened on the ceiling. She’s tempted to askhim if he’s okay, but she lets the urge pass, not wanting to nudge him at this hour.
Out of the blue, she feels a sudden longing to speak to her friend Bekah. There’s no way she’s going to burden her with this whole story, not when Bekah doesn’t even know her true feelings about her first marriage, but she wishes she could at least be in her friend’s company and feel the comfort her presence never fails to provide.
And then, the next day while at work, in one of those rare moments when the universe seems to read her thoughts, she gets a text from Bekah with a photo of her daughter, Hadley, wearing the dress Emma sent for her birthday.
Omg, cutest outfit in the world. Thank you. Btw, got a new part-time nanny and I’m free for a while at one today. Any chance you can talk? Would LOVE to catch up.
Warmth fills Emma’s chest. Up until now she’s convinced herself that she’s been okay with the limited contact they’ve had in the last year because Bekah has needed to devote most of her attention to the baby she craved so desperately. But she misses her friend, she really does. She checks her calendar and confirms that she’s free at lunchtime.
One is perfect, Emma writes back.wcu. can’t wait.
There’s enough work all morning to keep Emma distracted, including a call from Scott Munroe saying hiscompany is hiring her for a second round of research. Periodically, though, she finds time to steal glances at Dario, trying to assess his behavior. He seems as cheery as ever, and the only way she’s going to know for sure if he’s up to anything is to install a nanny cam in the studio, which she has no intention of doing.
At twelve thirty, Emma heads back to the house to grab a quick bite and have a private spot to call her friend.
“Oh, Emma, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Bekah says immediately.
“Ditto. But shouldn’t you be using this precious free time for a mani-pedi?”
