And I was still married—to Bill, and to the idea that I would take safety, stability, and tedium over passion, volatility, and pain any day of the week. Wasn’t I?
* * *
As soon as the front door of the apartment shut behind me, Bill was in my space. “How was the rest of your day?” he asked. “Get back to the office all right?”
“Yes,” I said, untying the fabric belt of my jacket.
“How’d you like driving in the architect’s car? It’s a V12. I noticed it on my way out. Your dad would love it.”
You should see his Porsche. I hung up my jacket and headed for the kitchen. “Sure.”
“He seemed impressed with the house. Did he say anything to you?”
I glanced at Bill and set my purse on the counter. “Honey, I just walked in the door,” I said. “What happened with the jury?”
His smile was victorious. “We won.”
“Oh, Bill.” I braced myself against the counter to slide off my shoes. “That’s great news.”
“I was worried because they came to a verdict so quickly, but it turned out in our favor. So, aren’t you going to say anything about the house?”
I sighed. “Yes, actually.”
“I’m excited, babe. I know I was skeptical because of the amount of work it will take, but I’m on board now. I’m just so ready to get started with our life already.”
I picked up the day’s mail but didn’t sort it. “You should have consulted me first.”
Bill’s eyebrows drew together. “Consulted? You’re not my business partner, you’re my wife.”
“You know what I mean.” I set down the mail, noticing a bottle of Veuve Clicquot at the end of the counter with two plastic champagne flutes. “We should’ve sat down together and—”
“Whoa. Hang on. I was trying to do something nice and spontaneous here,” he said. “You told me you wanted this.”
“I do, I just—you made the offer without discussing it with me. This is my home, my money, too.”
“Well, technically, babe, I’m the one making enough for a down payment.”
I drew back. “So I don’t get a say?”
“Of course you do, but we already discussed it,” he said. “You said you wanted it but you were concerned we couldn’t afford it. So I made it happen. Once I got the information I needed from the guys, I knew we were good to go.”
“I know you’re excited—I am, too,” I said. “But would it have killed you to wait one night so we could go over this together?”
“And give you another opportunity to back out? No way. This is happening. It’s done.”
Ah. So it wasn’t entirely nice and spontaneous. “I have every right to back out,” I said. “When you make decisions without me, it makes me feel like you don’t respect my opinion.”
“I believe your opinion was ‘yes, Bill, I want the house. Buy me this house.’ I believe it took a good eight or nine houses for you to decide that.”
I pursed my lips. “I do want the house.”
“So what’s the problem?”
The problem? I repeated to myself. The problem is that I almost had sex with someone else this afternoon. The problem is that I’m not sure of anything anymore. The problem is that I don’t know how to make a home with you.
I shook the vicious thoughts from my head. How could I think that about this man who’d been nothing but good to me since the day we’d met? Of course I knew how to make a home with him. It would happen day by day—one thing at a time—we would build and build and build . . .
“Jesus, Olivia. I don’t know,” he said with exasperation, running his hand over his face. “I can’t keep up with your back and forth. But you’ll just have to trust that I’m making the right decision for both of us. The offer is made, and when they accept, that’s it.”
No more options. Buying this house meant no more thoughts of a different life. It meant I’d get everything I wanted—a foundation under my feet that would hold steady through every passing storm. Who would give that up to wander into the unknown, to put herself at the mercy of nature? I nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes,” I agreed. “Yes, that sounds right. And good and . . . yes.”
“I have work to do,” Bill said, disappointment threading his tone. He gestured at the champagne. “Help yourself.”
“Bill,” I said and sighed, but he disappeared into the living room. I leaned over the kitchen counter and put my head in my hands. Wasn’t it enough that I’d betrayed him? Been vile to him for months? Was I now trying to make him unhappy?
I straightened my shoulders. I’d have to work harder at this marriage, or I was going to drive an even bigger wedge between us. This step was important to him, and the house was a place where I could finally picture myself. It would change our lives for the better.
I found Bill at his desk, hunched over a stack of papers. I rested my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said when he looked up. “I really am excited about the offer, I just wish I’d made the decision with you. But I know this means a lot to you, and it does to me, too.”
“It’s the right decision,” he said, almost pleading with me. “We have to move forward, Liv. I can’t stay in this place any longer.”
I nodded. Move forward. Leave this place behind. Whatever is holding me back, I have to give it up.
“Just imagine it. Please.”
“Imagine what?” I asked.
“We’ll finally have a place of our own. Who knows? We might have this house forever. Grow old together there. Down the line, we’ll raise our children there—at that point, hopefully I’ll be partner at the firm, and I’ll be more flexible. I’ll come home, you’ll be cooking with the kids or picking them up from basketball or ballet practice. We’ll have family dinners, a Christmas tree by the fire, birthday parties in the backyard. One day, we’ll pass the house down to our children, and them to their children. It’s the beginning of our future.”
I took a small step backward, thrown by the idyllic smile on his face. He was so confident in what he was saying, as though he’d already glimpsed into the future. As if, in his mind, it were the past, it had already happened. He’d seen me there, baking pies in a ruffle-trimmed, red and white apron. In his fantasy, I wanted those things, too.
But didn’t I? I wanted a place to call my own, somewhere that was mine, where I felt safe enough to let go of the past. To know that I’d made a life that was stronger and more unshakable than my parents had. To stop worrying about how things could disappear or break or end without warning. What Bill had described sounded like a place to be where I was. In the present. It sounded like a home—a warm, loving home with a steadfast husband and not only a child, but children. Plural.
“All right,” Bill said, and I lifted my eyes back to his. He made a show of getting out of his chair. “One glass of champagne to celebrate, but then I really do need to get back to work.”
* * *
After Bill had gone to bed, I stayed up at the kitchen table, staring into the abyss. I envisioned over and over again the life he had described. Someone else’s life. Dread surfaced in the form of chills over my skin. I had promised those things to Bill in front of everyone we loved years ago. I hadn’t known for sure if I’d wanted them, but I had agreed to them with two words: I do.
What scared me most was that I might give him those things because I was supposed to. And had David never come along, I might not have questioned the path I was on.
Because now, something else was developing inside of me. Maybe the other way to love, the one I’d decided wasn’t an option for me . . . maybe it was. A selfless, open way, where you took the good with the bad and the ugly with the beautiful. A way where, in order to experience bliss, you had to risk pain—you had to risk everything.
* * *
As Bill and I waited for our realtor’s call, things became increasingly stressful. The harder I tried to forget David in that house, the clearer I saw him. Each night after Bill had fallen asleep, I f
ound myself somewhere in the apartment, staring straight ahead.
In our bathroom, I had sat against the tub, tormenting myself with the meaningless details of my new life. Like what time I would wake up to catch the train to work. And was there a coffee shop on the way? Would being a mom mean that I’d have to cut my hair shorter? I wondered how to change a diaper, what types of friends I would have in the suburbs, whether or not there was an animal shelter nearby.
A different night, on the couch with the TV muted, I worried about the bigger things. I wondered if Bill expected me to quit my job, and how had we never discussed that? Or how often Gretchen and Lucy would make the trip to see us, or at what point we should start saving for a college fund . . . or this, or that.
And David. David. David. There was no night to think of him, because he was always there, telling me there were other options when I just didn’t want to admit that there could be.
10
A blue-eyed, blond-haired prince stood in the lobby of Chicago Metropolitan Magazine. A mischievous smile kinked one corner of his mouth, complementing the gleam in his eye. My mouth, on the other hand, hung open as I blinked in disbelief at my ex-best friend and legendary breaker of Gretchen’s heart.
“Greg?” I asked.
“The one and only,” Greg said. “How are ya, Olivia?”
I shook my head as a smile forced its way onto my face. I took a tentative step forward, and his arms opened for me. “What are you doing here?” I asked as we hugged.
He pulled me back by my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “It’s so good to see you. You look fantastic, even better than I remember.”
“Greg Theo,” I said as my shock wore off. Though I was happy to see my friend, he had a lot of explaining to do for the way he’d dumped Gretchen years ago. After college graduation, he’d picked up and left for Japan with practically no notice and hadn’t reached out to any of us since. “What are you doing here?”
He slid his hands down my biceps. His eyes, though equally as captivating, were not the same blue as Gretchen’s. They were carefree pools, the color of the sky. “A position with my company opened up in Chicago, and I jumped at the chance to come here,” he explained. “I arrived a few months ago.”
“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. Gretchen had mentioned that he’d recently left her a voicemail, but she hadn’t brought it up since. “Gretchen is going to flip.”
“She already knows.”
“What?” I asked, and he stepped back. “She knows? She hasn’t said anything to me.”
He nodded once. “She doesn’t know I came to see you, either.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We’ve started things up again—”
I sucked in a sharp breath and grimaced. “Oh my God.”
“I missed you guys like crazy, Liv. Gretchen—I was stupid to give her up. I want to make things right. I came to Chicago for her.”
I shook my head rapidly and moved us farther away from reception, where I suspected Jenny might be eavesdropping. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She doesn’t think we’re ready. But I just couldn’t wait to see you and Lucy.”
“A few months, you said?” I asked. When he nodded, I added, “Well that explains why she was dateless to Lucy’s wedding.”
He nodded. “We fought over that. I wanted to be there, but she wouldn’t let me come. She’s worried I won’t stick around.”
“Oh, Greg,” I said, steepling my hands over my mouth. “Please be careful. If you hurt her again . . .”
“Was it bad?”
“Awful.” I frowned. “I don’t think she could take it if it happened again.”
“I can tell. She’s different—harder or something. But I’m not going anywhere this time. I still love her.”
“You do?” I asked, dropping a palm to my heart.
“I do. And you guys, too.” He reached out and touched my cheek. “I’m sorry I left. I shouldn’t have. Remember late nights in the dining hall, goofing off when we were supposed to be studying for Bio? Or when Gretch would visit, and we’d all go out? One of us would inevitably get busted with a fake ID.” He smiled. “I miss that.”
“I missed you, too, but Greg?”
He dropped his arm. “Yeah.”
“What makes this time different?”
“I realize now what we had. Not just me and Gretchen, but all of us. Friendship, love. It’s important. I gave it all up for my career.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “For your career?”
“Yes, Liv. For the job in Japan.”
“Is that really why?” I asked. “I always thought you left for other reasons. Because you were scared.”
“No, I went for work. I knew it would hurt her, so I didn’t say anything until it was confirmed.”
“But now you realize . . .” I prompted. When he didn’t finish the sentence, I said, “You now realize that was the wrong way to go about it. Right?”
He flashed me a smile. “Of course. I should’ve been upfront.”
“Well, you know I can’t lie to her about seeing you.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s okay.”
“So, what are you doing? Where are you working?”
“An accounting firm over on Monroe. I’m close enough that you and I can have lunch together.”
“I’d like that.”
“We should all take a trip up to Notre Dame this weekend, visit a few of our old haunts.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t just pick up and leave for the weekend, Greg.”
“Right,” he said, nodding. “How’s married life? I heard about the wedding. Sorry I didn’t reach out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “At that point, so much time had passed.”
“Bill, right? Your husband?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “I’m excited for you to meet him.”
“Gretchen’s got this big work party coming up,” he suggested. “We could all go.”
“That sounds fun,” I said.
“Well.” He sighed. “I’ll let you get back to work then.”
As we embraced again, I said, “It’s good to see you.”
He handed me his card. “Anytime you want to grab lunch, dinner, drinks, whatever. Just let me know.”
I clasped it between my palms. “I will.”
With a kiss on the cheek, he was gone. Immediately, I ran back to my office to text Gretchen and demand that she meet me for dinner.
* * *
I stared at my computer screen as the cursor blinked, judging me for the amount of time I’d been stuck on an opening sentence for my current assignment.
Without experiencing a Chicago winter, you cannot call yourself a true Chicagoan, I typed.
I shook my head. No, too harsh.
I deleted the sentence and tried again.
What better way to appreciate our city than to endure a Chicago winter?
Suddenly feeling as if I were being watched, I tore my eyes from the screen and met a golden-brown gaze that always made my heart skip.
“You have impressive powers of concentration.” David’s deep voice resounded through my office, almost as imposing as he himself.
I fluttered my eyelashes, waiting for him to fade away like the apparition he had to be. When he didn’t, I asked, “How long have you been standing there?”
He smiled and peeled himself from the doorjamb. “Not long.”
I glanced behind him quickly as he crossed the office to me. “What are you doing here?”
“I just had my follow-up interview.”
“Follow-up?” I asked.
“For ‘Most Eligible.’”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“With Lisa. She e-mailed me some questions, but,” David paused, a faint smile forming on his face, “I thought it would be more convenient to stop by in person.”
He was a sight for sore eyes, but I couldn’t tell him that.
I glanced down at my desk. “I nixed the follow-up idea, but I guess they’re doing it anyway.”
He leaned his long arms on my desk and peered at me. “What’re you working on, Miss Germaine?”
“Editing an article. ‘Fifty Things to do in Chicago This Winter.’” I shrugged and added with sarcasm, “Serious stuff.”
“There’s enough serious stuff out there already,” he said.
I meant to reply, but words escaped me. David’s gaze, probing, seemed to make contact with my skin, pushing, pervading me.
I glanced away, cleaning off my desk to avoid him, but my eyes kept returning to his.
“Done for the day?” he asked.
“I’m meeting Gretchen for dinner.”
“Where?”
I nodded over my shoulder. “Just across the river.”
“That’s on my way,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
“I was going to walk, actually. It’s a nice evening.”
His eyes narrowed. “By yourself? It’ll be dark soon.”
“That’s all right.”
“Not with me, it isn’t.”
I looked up at his definitive tone and couldn’t help the smile on my face. “David, I’m a big girl.”
“I’ll walk with you,” he said, ignoring my declaration. He pushed off the desk and waited with his eyebrows raised. “Well?”
I shook my head at him and made my way across the office. “Do you always get what you want?” I asked as I shrugged on my jacket.
“That is yet to be determined.”
I rolled my eyes but laughed.
He motioned me through the door. “After you.”
“David Dylan?” My boss’s voice floated down the hall. “I thought I recognized that bass.”
We turned, and David nodded at Beman, who scurried to catch up with us.
“Mr. Beman,” I started, “I wasn’t aware of a follow-up piece on the ‘Most Eligible’ feature.”
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 37