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She grabbed her purse from a brown velvet chair in the corner and tucked it under her arm. She wished he would say something normal, something that would explain all this—maybe even something that would make her laugh, because she wanted very much to cry.
But all he said was, “You were even better than I thought.”
4
When I woke up, I reached for Sam, feeling for that blond fuzz on his thighs. Instead, the legs I touched were smooth, longer than Sam’s, so muscled they felt like bone.
I opened my eyes, and there was that child. His brown hair spun out from his head like a Chinese fan. His face was white, his lips a pillowy pink. He was sleeping soundly. He looked like one of those people who could sleep anywhere—a plane, a crowded bus, the bed of a strange woman he’d only met the night before.
My first one-night stand. I’d never thought I’d have one. I was supposed to be a married woman by now.
A twisted sheet had fallen to the floor. I picked it up and wrapped it around me. Then I sat against the headboard and drew my knees up, staring at him. The tattoos on his arms—a gold-and-black serpent on one, twisting ribbons of red on the other—fascinated me. The people I knew with tattoos had tiny ones. My best friend, Maggie, had a shamrock on her ankle, for example. But Theo’s covered his entire forearms, his round biceps. High on his left pectoral was an Asian-looking symbol.
A buzzing sound split the silence. Startled, I dashed out of bed and grabbed my cell phone from the dresser. Sam, cell.
I hit the off button for the ringer and glanced over my shoulder. Theo moaned, happily it seemed, and curled into a ball.
I took the phone in the hall and shut the bedroom door. Sam, cell, the phone kept flashing. I felt an irrational guilt about the boy in my bed. I reminded myself that there was nothing to feel guilty about. I was an adult, Theo was an adult—legally anyway—and Sam was decidedly an adult. It was Sam who’d made our lives so crazy months ago; it was Sam who had hung up on me.
But still he was hard to resist. I answered. “Hello?”
“Sorry about last night, Red Hot.”
I leaned my back against the wall. I twisted a strand of my hair around my fingers. “How are you?”
“Feeling like a jerk. I’m sorry. This whole thing just gets me crazy, this being apart. I really miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“So what are we doing? Let’s just get back together.”
“I don’t know, Sam. It’s not that easy.” I grabbed a larger strand of hair, my hand twirling, twirling as I twisted it tighter onto my finger. If Sam were here, he’d gently take my hand; he would untwist my hair and kiss me on the head, just the way he’d always done.
“Yes, it is that easy,” he said. “You’re the one making it hard.”
“I’m the one?”
“Well, yeah, now you are. We’ve gone over and over everything. I had to do what I’d promised to do.”
“You promised you’d marry me.”
“And I still want to do that!” His voice was raised, and the tenderness was gone.
We were back to where we’d been many times since Sam had returned to town.
Suddenly, a tall band of light moved into the hallway, and there was Theo.
His nude body took up nearly the whole doorway. He crossed his arms, the red ribbons stretching tighter across his biceps, and gave me a lazy grin that was so sexy I felt my mouth hanging open. What was this kid doing in my hallway? How did I get him back to my bed?
“You got any eggs?” Theo asked.
I put my finger to my lips and pointed toward the kitchen.
He walked toward me, slow and steady until he towered over me. Last night I was wearing heels and he hadn’t seemed so big. Now, he was a large, strange man. Seeing him like this, naked and in daylight, made everything surreal, as if my world had been shaken like a snow globe.
“What’s going on over there?” Sam said.
“Nothing.” Just that there’s a molten-hot boy in my condo.
Theo leaned over me, that silky hair brushing my cheeks again. “I’m gonna make you breakfast,” he whispered in my ear. Mundane words, but the way he’d said them made my stomach flip.
“Iz?” It was Sam.
“Can we talk later?”
A pause. “Let’s get it out now.” But his voice was flat. We were both weary of talking.
I watched Theo’s ass as he walked toward my kitchen. I’d never seen such a perfect ass—two smooth orbs at the top of those long legs.
The other line rang. The display showed a number I didn’t recognize. Maybe Mayburn? “Sam, hold on a sec.”
I switched to the other line and heard an unfamiliar man’s voice say my name.
“Yes?” I said.
“It’s Zac Ellis.”
“Who?”
“Jane Augustine’s husband.”
“Oh, hi, Zac.” Jane had told me that her husband, a photographer, was in New York for an exhibit.
“I got your number from Jane’s book. Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Yeah, sure. Hold on please.” I clicked to the other line. “I have to call you back, Sam. I’m sorry, okay?”
A beat, then, “All right.” I could hear the patience Sam was trying very hard to foster. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” That was one thing that was still certain in our lives.
I switched over to Zac. “Hi, I’m back.”
“Thanks. Look, Izzy, I have to ask you something—did you go out with Jane last night?”
“Yes.”
A pause. “Oh. I guess I thought …” His words fell away. Then, “Were there any guys there last night?”
Theo stepped into the hallway and held up a box of green tea in a silent question. How had he known that green tea was what I drank every morning, what I needed right at this very moment?
I smiled and nodded at him.
“What do you mean?” I said to Zac.
“I mean, was it just you and Jane or did you talk to any guys?”
“Uh … um …” It was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one. I had no idea what the right answer was. “We talked to a few people.” And one of those people is naked in my kitchen.
He said nothing.
“Is something wrong, Zac?”
“I got an early flight home last night. I waited up for Jane.”
“That’s nice,” I said, still unsure how he wanted me to respond.
“Yeah. It was. Except she never came home.”
5
I was still on the phone with Zac a few minutes later, spinning out possible hypotheses for where Jane had spent the night. I didn’t really believe any of them.
What I was really doing was taking up time, trying to let myself piece together the end of the evening. After Sam had hung up on me last night, I’d continued making out with Theo, partly out of spite and partly out of booze and partly out of the fact that he was so unbelievably hot. Before I knew it, he and I were in a cab on our way to my house. Before I knew it … Those were the words of someone who had done something wrong. Someone who should feel ashamed. That wasn’t me, I reminded myself.
As for Jane, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed quite possible that she’d gone home with the writer. She believed her husband was out of town, and she and Mick had been flirting madly. I hadn’t given it much thought last night. I’d assumed that flirting was all it was, but maybe it had gone further than that.
Shortly before I left, Jane had been there, slipping off her jacket, drinking in the visual praise of the men in the room, and then later when I looked up from my conversation with Sam, she was gone. I left ten minutes after Sam hung up on me, so I assumed Jane was just in the bathroom or at the back of the crowded lounge, somewhere I couldn’t see her. I’d searched around, and when I couldn’t find her, I’d texted her saying I was leaving and I’d talk to her tomorrow. And then, before I knew it, I was in the cab.
To Zac, I dished out more lame-sounding excuses—maybe she’d gone to a friend’s house, maybe she’d gotten a lead on a story and she was following that—while I tried to figure out what to do. Should I tell my friend’s husband that she’d been flirting with someone else?
“Was Jane talking to any guy in particular?” Zac asked.
“Uh …”
“Look, Izzy,” he said. “I shouldn’t have called you.” Silence. Then, “It’s not the first time this has happened, okay?”
“What do you mean?” I was in a robe by then. I went into my living room and sat on my favorite piece of furniture—a wingback chair Sam and I found at an antique store on Lincoln and reupholstered in a whimsical yellow-and-white fabric. The chair was unbelievably comfortable, and sitting there usually made me feel better. It wasn’t working today. Behind me in the kitchen, Theo was oblivious, whistling while he cooked.
“How close are you and Jane?” Zac asked.
“We’re friends from work. I used to be the lawyer for the company that owns Jane’s old station.”
“Yeah, I know, and she wants you to work for Trial TV.”
“Right. I accepted. But what did you mean that this has happened before?”
He exhaled, said nothing.
“Do you think you should call the cops?” This was all way too familiar. I could remember with crystal clarity the night Sam disappeared and that next morning when he still wasn’t around. “Or have you called the TV station?”
“I checked.”
“Have you talked to her family?”
“They live in Michigan. Plus, I think I know exactly what happened.”
“What?”
“I asked you before if you talked to any guys last night. Tell me the truth.”
I wrapped my robe tighter around me. “I did tell you. We spoke to a few people.”
“Who were they?” Zac asked.
“Um … let’s see.” I glanced over my shoulder, stalling for time. Over the breakfast bar, I could see Theo as he shook a small frying pan and flipped a perfect yellow omelet into the air, catching it again.
“You don’t remember who you spoke to?” Zac said. Something cold had crept into his voice.
“No, I do. I just …”
“What time did you leave?”
“One o’clock, I guess. Maybe two.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Well, this one guy.” A guy who was in my kitchen right now.
“What’s his name?”
“Um …” I knew it was Theo, but I had to think about his last name, which mortified me. Jameson! That was it.
Before I could answer, Zac jumped in. “Did Jane leave with him?”
“No.” I did.
“Look, Izzy, seriously. Don’t try to cover up for her.”
“I’m not. I know she didn’t go home with the person I was talking to.”
“Then who? Who was she talking to?”
I tried to think of the writer’s name. “I’m not sure.” I was relieved to be telling the truth. If I had thought it awkward to wake up with my first one-night stand, it was even worse to have a morning-after conversation with a friend’s husband.
Then he laughed. A caustic, short laugh. “Look, don’t worry about it. She just walked in.”
Zac hung up on me, the second man in twenty-four hours to do so.
