When my cell buzzed, I glanced at the screen to see Gretchen’s name and ignored the call. Within moments, my office phone began to ring. I sighed with defeat, guessing Gretchen wouldn’t give up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked when I picked up the receiver.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Liv.”
“Seriously, Gretch. Is everything okay?”
“I’m downstairs,” she said.
“What? Why?”
“Bill texted me that you were going into the office, and I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d surprise you for lunch.”
“You should have called first,” I muttered. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“So take a break and pick it up later.”
“Later, I have other things to do.”
“How?” she asked. “You work nonstop, and it’s Saturday for God’s sake. What could be so important? I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”
I wasn’t avoiding her. I was avoiding everyone in my personal life. They were all reminders of what I’d done, what I could’ve lost because of my reckless night. What I had lost the next morning. Facing my friends and family meant facing a reality I didn’t like. “My schedule has been full with this promotion,” I explained. “Beman has me under impossible deadlines. They need me.”
“I know they do, but I need you, too. We need you. Come downstairs—lunch is on me.”
“Fine,” I said, exhaling forcefully.
There was a brief pause on the line as I saved the document on my computer.
“Fine?” Gretchen repeated after a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I made a special trip over here to take you to lunch.”
“You said you were in the neighborhood.”
Her voice softened. “I miss you.”
“Look, I said I’d come. Just give me a minute.” I hung up before she could respond and proceeded to lock up the office.
Downstairs, a deep breath of fresh air helped. Gretchen waited in a sleeveless tank top and denim cut-offs. Despite her casual outfit, she’d curled her bright blonde hair into perfect ringlets as usual.
I tucked some of my hair behind my ear as I approached her, then pulled my sweater closed.
“Aren’t you hot?” she asked. “It’s the dead of summer.”
I shook my head. “I only have an hour.”
She rolled those big blue eyes of hers, pulled on my arm, and started walking. “Then you’d better get talking.”
“Talking?”
“Yes. It’s time to have a conversation, and that’s why I’m buying you lunch.”
“What’s the topic of this conversation?” I asked. “And don’t say Davena Donovan, because that’s all anyone ever wants to talk about.”
“Because you won’t,” she pointed out. “You won’t talk to Bill about it, you won’t talk to us, and you refuse to see a shrink. Forget about poor Mack.” She waved her hand. “He’s beside himself, and you can’t even pick up the phone.”
My heart stopped along with my feet. “Who told you that?”
“Bill.”
“Wow,” I said. She continued walking, so I ran to catch up to her. “No wonder you sound exactly like Bill. Do you guys get together and talk about me? Have little powwows about how to get me to spill my guts? Well, here’s a tip—get a new hobby, because there’s nothing to spill. I loved Davena, but I’ve made my peace with her passing. Life goes on, Gretchen.”
She muttered something under her breath.
“What?” I asked.
She sighed. “Liv, you can talk to me,” she said in an atypically delicate voice.
I glanced down at the pavement as we walked, willing myself to stay calm. “Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“I do, though. You never talk about her, and you haven’t seen Mack since the funeral. It’s not healthy, and . . .” Her eyes drifted over me. “It shows.”
I rewrapped myself in the cardigan Lucy had given me for my birthday. It had fit back then, but now it was looser.
“Lucy needs you,” Gretchen continued. “With the wedding next weekend, she has to know she can count on us.”
“Of course she can,” I said defensively. “I’ve been there every step of the way—did I not host the wedding shower, help you stuff invites, and have I not done everything she’s asked?”
“Yes, you have, it’s just obvious that your heart isn’t in it. And it hurts her feelings.”
“She said that?” I asked.
“She doesn’t have to.”
I swallowed. Lucy had looked forward to her wedding her entire life, and that included my part in it. It wasn’t fair to cast a shadow over a time she’d always remember. “Okay,” I said. “I get it. I’ll try harder.”
“Good. So let’s start with how you felt when you heard the news about Davena,” Gretchen said. “Maybe you can explain why you hid it from me that night? It’s no wonder you randomly disappeared from your own party. Nobody can keep something like that inside, not even you.”
“No—what I meant was that I get what you’re saying about Lucy,” I said. “I’ll change. I’ll be the dutiful bridesmaid. But I’m not up for this random therapy session.”
“You can’t change without talking about it.”
“Again, there is nothing to talk about,” I said. “People grieve in different ways, so please just drop it. As far as the wedding, I’ll make sure I’m back to my old self. For Lucy.”
Gretchen heaved a deep sigh and looked away as she bit her thumbnail. “You’re a stubborn bitch.”
An unwilling smile found my face. “Where are you taking me for lunch anyway—Milwaukee?”
“Nope, we’re going to a place with the largest, juiciest burgers around. You need some nourishment,” she said, tugging at the sleeve of my sweater. I almost gagged at the thought of consuming a whole hamburger when my stomach was in constant knots, but I figured this was what choosing one’s battles meant.
But when we arrived, my heart dropped. I was standing in front of the restaurant where David had taken me to lunch months ago, on our way to visit his nearby project.
Gretchen held the door open, but I couldn’t move. “Hel-lo?” she urged, ushering for me to enter.
I fumbled for an excuse to leave but came up short. It was Saturday, anyway, and David shouldn’t be working nearby, so I followed Gretchen inside.
I recognized the red-lipped hostess, despite the fact that she wasn’t nearly as cheery as she had been when I was with David. I wondered if she was trying to place me, since she gave me a curious, narrow-eyed look. I furtively scanned the restaurant as she led us to an open, conspicuous table.
I ordered a burger, or rather, Gretchen ordered one for me, but I found it hard to stomach. After making a show of the first two bites, I nibbled on the side salad while Gretchen caught me up on the goings-on at the public relations firm where she worked.
“You’ve got to come with me to California next time,” she was saying. “Los Angeles in the summertime is the shit. I even took a couple surf lessons.”
“Doesn’t sound like work,” I muttered.
“It’s all about schmoozing, Liv, and—”
“David!” I heard behind me.
I froze.
Was that . . . ? No.
“David, my man,” the male voice boomed. “How’ve you been?”
My heart whipped into a violent pounding, filling my ears as blood rushed to my head. I waited for that deep bass that had lulled me to sleep with its memory some nights and others, had haunted my dreams.
Gretchen cocked her head. Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing.
With slow precision, I turned my head over my left shoulder and glanced back. Two men I’d never seen before shook hands emphatically. Through my decelerating heartbeat, I heard one call the other “David.”
I shook my head quickly and returned my attention to Gretchen. She was still talking about California, though now she was looking at my plate. To pree
mpt another argument, I forced myself to take another bite of hamburger. I chewed the patty methodically until it was mush in my mouth and swallowed because I thought she might notice if I spit it out.
“Well, that was worth an extra hour on the treadmill, right?” Gretchen asked her empty plate and covered her tummy with her hand.
I was full, too. It didn’t take much these days.
I’d told David I was empty inside, but I couldn’t have known how wrong that was. For one stolen moment, he’d filled me with himself, physically and emotionally. In his absence, the void in me had expanded. Now I was empty. Now I was poisoned.
2
Davena’s funeral had been like every other funeral before it. I’d sat in a pew, staring forward as Bill had clasped my hand in his. At some point I’d looked over to find him in tears, but with my hands lifeless in my lap, and with no words, I’d just returned my eyes to the front. My only moment of reality had been when Mack—Davena’s husband and my godfather—had hugged me. He’d squeezed the breath from my lungs, holding me too tightly. And when he’d let go, I’d felt nothing again.
She’d been predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life nor in death. I’d wondered how she hadn’t even looked vulnerable in that position; I wouldn’t have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she’d invited me to Sunda for a cocktail.
But she hadn’t. And eventually they’d eased the coffin closed and taken her away. Back at their place, Mack had done his best to turn the reception into a celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes had been searing. Unavoidable, even when I’d looked away. The kind of bottomless void only the loss of a soulmate could inspire.
We’d left early.
Although my belief in the afterlife was dubious, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything—that I was a sinner, an adulterer, and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.
“Did you look at the article yet?” Lisa, my toxic co-worker, glared at me from the doorway of my office, arms crossed, lips drawn.
Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back to reality. Otherwise known as a workweek morning. “Which one?”
She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”
“It’s on your desk already,” I said.
“Oh.” Lisa pivoted and stalked away, revealing my assistant behind her, who sported shorter, blonder hair than she’d had yesterday.
“Lisa’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a comforting smile. “And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . you get the idea.”
“Where’d your hair go?” I asked about her pink-tipped blonde bob.
“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut.” Serena ran a hand through the short strands. “What do you think?”
“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.
“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”
I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me “boss” since her recent promotion from intern to assistant editor.
“The wedding?” she prompted. “Are you looking forward to it?”
I nodded. “Lucy’s been daydreaming about this for as long as I’ve known her. Even though she had to pull the wedding together quickly, I have no doubt it’ll be impressive.”
“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just, like, so happy to be there.” Serena sighed wistfully. “And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean—”
“Serena,” I said, rubbing my brow, “I’m really swamped here.”
“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.
“It’s about the ‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes’ issue—”
I froze mid-keystroke. “What?”
“Well, um—I was thinking we could do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m sure the people we featured, like, went on dates and stuff.” Serena’s tone faltered as I stared at her. “Maybe some of them even found relationships because of the article. We could even do a teeny-tiny column in the mag next month catching up with—”
“No, that won’t work.” I shook my head rapidly. “Let’s try to come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”
“Oh, okay, cool. I like that, too.”
She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn’t meant to shut her down, but I couldn’t risk a run-in with Bachelor Number Three. I didn’t trust myself in the presence of David Dylan’s irresistible charm.
I’d gotten lucky at the launch party for the “Most Eligible” issue two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event, the best in the magazine’s history. Except for David Dylan. I’d overheard Lisa say that he’d accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though she’d begged him. Knowing he was out of town was no more painful than knowing he wasn’t right next to me. He was gone forever, and the physical distance wouldn’t change that.
I hadn’t been able to ignore his presence at the party, though. Despite his non-attendance, his smiling photo, which had far outshone the other attendees’ pictures, had been everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over David’s segment for me, and the way she’d styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear designer. He was all teeth and hard muscles in a three-piece suit Lucy had sold him. Clutching his jacket casually at his side, he’d been the epitome of roguish businessman.
I’d given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing David’s spread. The wounds had been too fresh. Even now, I still hadn’t had the heart, or the guts, to read about David Dylan—wealthy, charming, and handsome Chicago bachelor. Every girl’s dream catch.
I got up, locked my office door, and allowed myself a moment to lie down on the couch, thankful for my sweater to block the blasting A/C unit above.
I was so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should’ve felt over cheating with David, it only came in fleeting waves.
I recalled David’s hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between my breasts . . .
Just fucking stop, I pleaded with myself. I have to forget, please. I can’t do this anymore.
The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. The guilt was already a steady drip through my system, seeping into the cracks of my interior.
My office phone rang, shredding through my thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that never let me down, never judged or condemned me.
I returned to my desk and hit the speakerphone button. “Olivia Germaine.”
“What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s voice filled the office.
“Um.” I wiggled my mouse to wake up the computer. “Seven, I think. When’s Andrew’s?”
“Same. Think you can get off a little early? I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.
“Yeah, can you?”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen. “I’m sort of backed up here.”
“Please?” he said. “I’m really excited.”
I’d promised Gretchen I’d try harder, at least through the end of this weekend. “Okay,” I said. “Sure.”
“I’ll pick you up downstairs at two,” Bill said. “Love you.”
* * *
On a street-facing concrete bench, I waited on the sidewalk outside of my office building for Bill, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. He pulled up to the curb blasting Bon Jovi—he was in a good mood.
<
br /> “Hey,” he said when I climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Ready for your surprise?”
He’d made an effort. I needed to as well. I nodded and took his hand.
He squeezed mine. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit back and relax.”
As we discussed the impending bachelor and bachelorette parties, it became evident we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It was only once we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.
We’d made this same drive months earlier in our realtor Jeanine’s car. My hands began to sweat as we got closer and closer to the final two-story house we’d looked at back in May.
“Don’t get any grand ideas,” Bill warned.
Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause after Davena’s death. I recalled the afternoon with Jeanine—the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery, and the ensuing argument where Bill had tried to convince me that we were ready for children. That house had sold, though, he’d told me bitterly back in June. Unless it had fallen through, and . . .
Oh, no. Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?
Our talk of moving out of the city to start a family had also come to a screeching halt months ago.
My heart began to thump as he pulled up to the curb and parked in the same spot we had with Jeanine.
“Bill—”
“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with Jeanine for a while.”
Working on what? Bill wasn’t facing the two-story house we’d visited last time. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Gray stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw it had months ago. The same endearing and imposing character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it. A house that said, you can’t ignore me, no matter how hard you try.
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 29