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But how can I explain that without giving something away? I’ve been excited about the event—it will look strange if I suddenly have a change of heart. “No problem,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Your black suit’s clean. Grab it just in case.”
He nods, and we kiss goodbye. I carry the cumbersome car seat out the door. The morning is sunny but below freezing—spring is taking forever to arrive. I snap the car seat into its base, and my baby lets out a giggle. I look into Freddie’s huge blue eyes and feel the rush that will never cease to amaze me—this little man, thismiracle,is mine. Such an amazing little treasure. It hadn’t been easy for us,making him. A year ago, we never thought we’d get a baby at all. And now... look. Our world is so shiny and bright.
Except it could crack open and smash on the sidewalk.
I swallow hard.No, it won’t. I can’t think like that. Nothing’s going to change.
I slide into the front seat, feeling a whoosh of conviction. I can’t fear Greg Strasser. This is my life, my future, and I need to set the tone. I pull out my phone and look at the e-mail I sent Greg earlier this week.I’ve received your research. Definitely taking into consideration. But I have all I need for now—thanks.It’s popped up in the hack, but if anyone asks about it, I have a ready excuse. The problem is, Greg didn’t write me back.
There’s no way I’m going to e-mail him again and risk it turning up on a hack site. So I compose a new text:Please. We need to talk. Are you going to the giving gala?
The phone whooshes to indicate the text has been sent. My heart pounds, waiting for Greg’s answer—in the old days, he used to get back to me almost immediately. I need to get a grip. I need to fix this. And I have a fleeting, powerful thought that passes through me like lightning:It would be so, so much easier if Greg Strasser were just gone.
There’s an excited bubble of conversation at the nurses’ station as I clock in. Tina, a surgical nurse who has as much tenure as I do, notices me and grins mischievously.
“What?” I ask—she’s said something I haven’t caught. I’m distracted. I’ve checked my phone relentlessly, waiting for Greg’s reply, but he still hasn’t answered.
Tina’s eyes dance. “Have you heard about Dr. Strasser?”
Her voice is teasing,knowing. My stomach flips. Terrible things come to mind: Greg broadcasting the truth on the marker board the nurses used to keep track of who was attending to which patient.Blaring it over the hospital loudspeaker. Telegraphing it in a hospital-wide e-mail.
“N-No...” My throat has gone dry. “What happened?”
Marjorie steps forward. Her mouth is twisted into a smirk. “Some crazy shit came out about him in the hack,” she whispers. “Apparently, he’s having an online affair with someone—and, man, does he talk dirty to her. It’s gone viral. Likereallyviral.”
Tina pretends to fan herself. “The things he wants to do to her on the MRI machine! I’ll never look at that thing the same way again.”
“I wonder how Kit’s taking it.” Marjorie crosses her arms. “Gorgeous woman like that? And remember when they started dating? It was only what, two, three years ago? He was like Tom Cruise when he jumped up on Oprah’s couch, ecstatic about Katie Holmes.”
“Men,” Tina spits. “They always want ’em younger. Up for anything.”
“Well, if these e-mails are true, this girl certainly wasthat,” Marjorie chuckles. She looks at Laura. “Chauncey is furious. Says it makes the whole department look unprofessional.” Chauncey is the head of the hospital, a man we all quietly fear.
“This hack makeseveryonelook unprofessional,” Tina says with a shrug.
“Wonder who exposed him?” Marjorie turns to the coffeemaker to refill her to-go cup. “Someone put Greg’s shit all over Facebook. There are tons of e-mails on the hack server, though—why’d they target him?”
“Guess he has some enemies.” Tina’s gaze returns to me, and there’s something about it that seems smug.Could she know?“I’d be surprised if Strasser came in today. If that happened to me, I’d hide under a rock forever. Move out of the country.”
As if on cue, Marjorie’s phone pings. Her eyebrows shoot up. “Speak of the devil. Dr. Strasser has come down with the flu. Awfully convenient! He’s asking Alice to reschedule his surgeries.”
“Coward,” Tina spits. She glances at me once more. I pretend to fiddle with my Fitbit.
In a fragrant cloud of bubble gum and hand sanitizer, Tina hurries away to speak to Alice in scheduling. Marjorie is off to attend to recovering patients. I busy myself at the desk, staring at the stack of memos that temporarily replaces some of the data we’d stored on the network, but my mind is thudding. I need to know.
I head for the ladies’ room and shut myself in a stall. It’s not hard to find the link to the database where all our Aldrich e-mails have been dumped. I find Greg Strasser’s folder right away. After scrolling through his inbox and finding nothing incriminating, not even a weird Amazon purchase, I open his trash folder—and voilà. There they are, a whole list of them, practically the only messages Greg threw out. His e-mails are titled things likeSucking your sweet titsandI came over and over just thinking about youandI love looking at your juicy ass.I feel dirty just reading the words.
But maybe this scandal is a good thing. Greg will focus on it for a while instead of me. It might make him pliable. Agreeable. I might be able to effectively get my point across and get out of him what I need.
My breathing begins to slow. Yes, I’m going to speak to Greg. And I’ll make him see my side. Ihaveto.
5
KIT
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26, 2017
On Wednesday morning, pre-work, I wander the cheese department of Whole Foods with Aurora in tow. My daughter searches out a brand of low-fat mozzarella string cheese she insists she must have in her school lunch. I’m still in a fog from the night in Philly. All I think about are Patrick’s dancing eyes. The strong grip of his hand. The feel of his lips on mine.
