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“What is it exactly that Tracy thinks she saw?”
She saw you having lunch with a pretty, young girl with long brown hair and big boobs,I thought, but all I said was “She saw you having lunch at…”
“…Bar Mercurio. Yes, I think we’ve established that. What else?”
“Just that your conversation seemed pretty intense,” I offered.
“Which it was,” he agreed. “Wren has dreams of being a writer, but frankly, that’s never going to happen. And I think she’s starting to realize that, and it hit her pretty hard. I was just trying to comfort her. I take it Tracy saw me reach out to pat her hand, and jumped to the wrong conclusion, as only Tracy can.”
I silenced a gasp. My sister hadn’t said anything about Harrison reaching for Wren’s hand.
“And she just couldn’t wait to rush over here and tell you all about it.” Harrison ran an exasperated hand through his hair.“Just as you couldn’t wait to jump to conclusions. Look, it’s been a long night, and I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”
I sat at the dining room table for the better part of an hour, the invisible silk shawl lying crumpled at my feet, before I pushed myself to my feet and went upstairs. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then crawled into bed beside my husband. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, surrounding him with my arms and burying my face into his warm back.
But if he was awake, he gave no such sign. He left for the university the next day without so much as a “good morning.”
Enter Roger McAdams.
