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“And I suppose you had absolutely nothing to do with that?” Craig says.
“I’ll be in the car,” Erin tells them. “And you guys are separated, which means you don’t have to stick up for her all the time anymore,” she says to her father on her way out.
Maggie exhales, watching Craig do the same.Thank you,she says with her eyes, and Craig smiles,You’re welcome.
We’re still in sync,she finds herself thinking, dismissing the unwelcome thought with a shake of her head.
“Anything I should know?” Craig asks.
Just that I want you to come home, that I need you, that I still love you.
“I’m hungry,” Leo says.
“Why don’t we talk later?” Maggie tells her husband. She needs time to calm down and regroup, to rid her mind of these troubling thoughts. And if she really hurries, she might still be able to make that exercise class by seven o’clock.
“You’re sure?”
A car horn blasts its impatience from the driveway.
“I’m sure. Have a nice dinner.”
“Erin lied to Mom about Mark,” Maggie hears Leo tell his father as they walk toward the car.
“Who’s Mark?” Craig asks.
Maggie barely has time to close the front door before she bursts into tears.
—
It’s five minutes to seven and Maggie is sitting, naked except for her sports bra and bikini briefs, on her bed, unable to move. She’s been sitting here for the past half hour, her exercise clothes spread out beside her—the shiny new black tights, the bright yellow T-shirt and matching ankle-length yellow socks. A pair of recently purchased charcoal-gray sneakers rest on the floor by her bare feet. All she has to do is put the damn stuff on.
What’s the point?she wonders with her next exhale. The class will have started even before she leaves the house, and there areNo Latecomers Allowed,as she recalls reading online.
So much for her resolve to use this time every week to get back into a regular exercise routine. So much for her determination to stop pining for a man who has clearly moved on, despite what Richard Atwood, certified public accountant, might think.
“Not your fault he’s still in love with you,”he’d said.
“Yeah, right.” Maggie forces herself to her feet. “Enough!” she says, stepping into the tights and sliding them up over her legs and hips, then pulling the T-shirt down over her head and pushing her arms through its sleeves. “Enough!” she repeats, donning her socks and shoes. “It’s time to get your act together. Time to get on with your life.”
She may have missed the scheduled exercise class, but there’s nothing preventing her from working out on her own. Half an hour on a treadmill should be enough to clear her head, sift through the fog of emotions clouding her brain, help her separate fact from wishful thinking.
She reaches into the nightstand by her bed for her gun, holding it securely with both hands, her arms stretched out in front of her, as she carries it down the stairs. “Clear!” she shouts as she reaches the bottom.Just like they do on TV,she thinks, marching into the living room. “Clear,” she says again, laughing as she goes from room to room. Would she have the guts to use it? she wonders as she drops the gun inside her canvas bag. Could she really kill another human being?
And does she really want to go to the gym when she could just crawl into a nice hot bath, grab a box of chocolates, and climb into bed? “Yes. Yes, you do!” she tells herself as she gets into her car and backs out of the garage into the driveway.
She’s almost at the road when she stops suddenly, looking toward the Wilson house next door. On impulse, she leaves her car running and hurries up the Wilsons’ front walk to ring the doorbell. Seconds later, the door opens and Nick Wilson stands before her. He’s wearing jeans and an open-necked, button-down blue shirt, and he leans into the doorway, the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the side of the door.
“Hi,” he says, clearly surprised to see her. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I was just wondering…is Dani here?”
Nick Wilson looks toward the interior of the house. “She is. But she’s a little busy right now. Anything I can help you with?”
“Not really. I was just heading out to the gym, and I thought she might like to join me.”
“The gym’s not exactly Dani’s thing,” Nick says with a laugh. “And like I said, she’s a little busy at the moment. But hey, it sounds like a great idea. I’ll certainly mention it to her. Maybe next time.”
Maggie is about to respond, but the door is already closing. She returns to her car, trying to banish the image of the handsome Dr. Wilson slouched in his doorway, one hand on his hip, the other wrapped around the side of the door, the knuckles of that hand bruised and red.
“It’s none of your business,” she tells herself as she climbs back inside her car and slams the door shut. “It’s none of your damn business.”
