The Devil You Know

by Freida McFadden

  If possible, Ben seems less enthusiastic about this party than I am. His brown eyes are pinned on the road, but every few minutes, he lets out a loud sigh that I can hear over the classical music that he always insists on listening to when he drives. He resists any of my feeble attempts to make conversation, so we spend the last fifteen minutes of the drive in musical silence.

  Dr. Kirschstein must have invited half the hospital to his party, because all the spots within a three-block radius of his house are occupied. This results in Ben sighing more frequently and more loudly until he finally blurts out, “Jane, do we have to go to this party?”

  “Are you kidding me?” I glare at him. “We just drove half an hour to get here and now you don’t want to go?”

  “I never wanted to go,” he reminds me. Well, that’s true. He’s never been one for social activities involving more than two people. “How about this—let’s go out to dinner, just the two of us? It’s been forever since we’ve done that.”

  I hesitate.

  “Come on, Jane,” he pleads with me. “It’ll be so much more fun. We can go anywhere you want.”

  It’s tempting. It would be nice to spend the night sharing good food with my husband without Leah constantly interrupting our conversation by singing songs about me.

  “Look,” I say. “This is my boss’s party. I have to go. Let’s just… at least make an appearance.”

  Ben pulls into a parking spot a good half-mile from the house and kills the engine. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be a social butterfly.”

  “Um, I would never expect that, Ben.”

  He gives me a look, but at least he gets out of the car.

  The weather has been getting slightly warmer, but Long Island at night is always freaking cold. As we make the trek to Dr. Kirschstein’s house, I feel the impact of my decision not to bring a hat with me. Yes, it would mess up my hair. But who, exactly, am I trying to impress? My ears are freezing.

  I look over at Ben, who is wearing a coat that is at least twice as warm as mine, in addition to a hat and a scarf. There was a time when Ben would have offered me his hat and scarf. Hell, he would have forced it on me. I remember one night he chased me down Fifth Avenue, both of us giggling uncontrollably while he shook his ugly black hat in his hand, yelling, “If you don’t take it, you’re going to get pneumonia!”

  But it seems like he doesn’t care as much anymore if I get pneumonia.

  Dr. Kirschstein’s white house is at least twice as large as ours, about three stories high, with half a dozen steps to get to the front door. You would think two octogenarians would want a house with fewer stairs. I sprint up the steps, my eyes pinned on the glowing yellow light coming from inside. It looks warm in there.

  Ben keeps his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark jacket while we wait for someone to let us in. After at least a minute, Dr. Kirschstein throws open the front door. I’m overcome by the shock of seeing him without his white coat. He seems practically naked, although he’s wearing a nice shirt and tie.

  “Jane!” he exclaims.

  It’s the first time I can recall him ever calling me by my first name. Great, does this mean I have to call him “Bernard”? I cannot imagine saying to my boss, “Hey, Bernie!” I’m just going to call him nothing. “Um, hi,” I say.

  “And this must be Benjamin!” he booms.

  Ben manages an incredibly uncomfortable smile as he grudgingly shakes my boss’s hand.

  “Your hand is freezing, Benjamin!” Dr. Kirschstein notes. “You two better get inside.”

  We give up our coats and Dr. Kirschstein leads us to the living room, which is packed tightly with guests, and more importantly, a roaring fire. I see Lisa standing with her husband in the far corner of the room and wave enthusiastically.

  “How long do we have to stay here?” Ben murmurs.

  “Oh my God, Ben,” I murmur back. “Can you just… relax for a minute? We have to socialize a little.”

  “But I don’t know anyone here,” he complains.

  “You know me.”

  “Yes, and I could talk to you at home.”

  I sigh. “There’s a ton of food. Why don’t you get something to eat? I think it’s catered.”

  “Probably not from anywhere good,” he mutters, although he obligingly wanders over to the table filled with an assortment of deli meat while I make my way over to Lisa and her husband (who has, incidentally, not abandoned her in spite of not knowing anyone here). Lisa is wearing a sequined black dress with vivid purple flowers on it that falls to mid-thigh level, paired with a glittery choker. She stands out even more next to her husband Mike, who is wearing the most ordinary white shirt and solid brown tie that I’ve ever seen. Between his medium-sized gut and male pattern baldness, Mike is pretty much the opposite of any of the men on Lisa’s top five celebrity list, but she seems to absolutely adore him and vice versa.

  “Hi, Jane,” Mike says with a warm smile. “We were worried you wouldn’t make it.”

  “I thought Jane would make it,” Lisa says. “I just wasn’t sure about her hubby over there.”

  I glance in Ben’s direction. He’s eyeing a plate of pastrami and looking completely miserable. “It was close.”

  “Poor guy,” Mike comments. “I think I’ll go talk to him.”

  Mike makes his way across the Kirschsteins’ living room in a valiant effort to keep my husband from taking off without me. Once he’s out of earshot, Lisa leans in close to me and says, “If I were Ben, I wouldn’t leave my wife alone at a party when there’s a guy there who’s clearly got a thing for her.”

  I turn to stare at Lisa. “What are you talking about?”

  She grins at me. “You know Dr. Reilly is here, don’t you?”

  I absolutely did not know that. And if I had known, I would not have come. I certainly wouldn’t have dragged my husband here. I look at Ben across the room, making awkward conversation with Mike, and I feel ill. “Are you sure he’s here?”

  Her grin broadens. “Oh, very sure.”

  “What’s he doing here anyway?” I cry. “He’s not even in the medicine department!”

  Lisa glances around the room at the hodgepodge of guests. “I don’t think Kirschstein was very discriminating in who he invited. If he had a conversation with Ryan in the last month, I’m sure a party invitation was extended.”

  “Great,” I mutter. I’d managed to avoid Ryan since he shoveled out my car last week, but the truth is, I’d been thinking about him. And it hasn’t helped matters than he’s been texting me every single day. His last text read: I feel like you might be avoiding me, Jane.

  I’m glad Ben didn’t read that one.

  At this point, Ben and Ryan have never met. And I’d really like to keep it that way, if at all possible. But it looks like fate might intervene.

  I spend the next fifteen minutes mingling with my colleagues from the primary care department, as well as the random other people that Dr. Kirschstein invited. I don’t see any sign of Ryan anywhere, which gives me hope that maybe Lisa was wrong. Or maybe Ryan was here, but he took off. Or maybe Lisa was messing with me—also entirely possible.

  I end up pouring myself a stiff drink, and make myself a plate of crackers and pate. Since I’ve been working in primary care, it’s always frightened me to eat pate or any other organ meat. I see too many men fighting painful gout flares and organ meat is a culprit (although it pales in comparison to alcohol). Still, I love pate, so if it’s here, I’m going to eat it.

  I probably won’t get gout.

  I’ve taken a swig of my drink when I feel the tap on my shoulder. At first I’m terrified that it’s Ryan, but then I see that it’s just Ben. He’s holding a half-empty cup of seltzer water and looking nonplussed.

  “Listen,” he says, “can we go?”

  I look down at my watch. “Ben, we’ve been here only fifteen minutes.”

  “Yeah, but…” He shifts between his feet. “This is really boring. I don’t have anyone
to talk to.”

  “What about Mike?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. We didn’t really have anything to say to each other. It was awkward.”

  I shake my head. Dr. Kirschstein is never going to be cool with me taking off after only fifteen minutes—I’ll never hear the end of it. “Can’t you wait a little longer?”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know. An hour?”

  Ben looks at me like I told him that we’re never going home and we’re just going to live here from now on. “An hour?”

  “Ben…”

  “I can’t stay here for another hour,” he says. “I’m leaving. Now.”

  Now it’s my turn to stare at him in disbelief. “You know I can’t leave…”

  “Fine,” he says. “So ask Lisa if she can give you a ride.”

  I look around to see if anyone is watching us talk, if they can see how angry I’m getting. “You’re being a baby,” I hiss at him.

  “You’ll have a better time without me,” he says. He’s clearly made up his mind.

  “Ben, you’re being ridiculous…”

  “You know I hate these dumb parties,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”

  We just stare at each other for a minute. I can’t believe he’s doing this. Yes, I know he hates these parties. But I didn’t think he’d just abandon me at one of them. Usually he’d be okay with having some food and a few drinks while I schmoozed, but that was in Manhattan, where both of us could drink because we’d be taking a taxi home.

  “Listen,” he says, “you coming or what?”

  When I shake my head no, he puts his drink down on the table, then goes off in the direction of the front door. But I honestly thought it was all just a bluff until I see him put on his coat and walk out the front door without me.

  I can’t believe my husband just left me stranded at a party in Ronkonkoma. I down the rest of my drink in one big gulp.

  “Wow. I can’t believe he just left you like that.”

  I whirl around and am not terribly surprised to see none other than Dr. Ryan Reilly standing behind me. He’s wearing a blue dress shirt, which is the first thing I’ve seen him wear in years that isn’t scrubs, and all I can think to myself is that they make his blue eyes look really, really blue.

  I fold my arms across my chest. “Were you standing there and listening to that whole thing?”

  “Just the part where Pip said he was ditching you.” He grins at me. “Why? Did I miss something juicy?”

  “He just…” I glance in the direction of the door. “He doesn’t do well at these big parties. He’s not the social type.”

  “Still.” Ryan’s smile widens. “He shouldn’t have left you here alone with me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, he doesn’t know you’re here.”

  He raises his light brown eyebrows. “Afraid to tell him?”

  “No.”

  He shrugs. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  I pour myself another drink and take a sip. Then I realize that more alcohol probably isn’t the best idea right now. Oh well.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan says. “I’ll drive you home.”

  I shake my head. “It’s okay. Lisa will take me home.”

  “It’s no big deal,” he says. “And I’m sure my date will be fine with it.”

  I’m surprised by the way my heart sinks when Ryan mentions that he brought a date. Well, of course he brought a date. Look at him—the guy’s gorgeous.

  But then I look up at Ryan’s face and see him chuckling to himself. “Relax, Jane. I didn’t really bring a date. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

  That cocky jerk.

  “You should have brought a date.” I raise my chin. “Like what about that nurse I saw flirting with you the other day in the hallway? Who was that?”

  He laughs. “You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that.”

  “She had blond hair and she was really pretty…”

  “Again, you’re going to have to be way more specific.”

  I roll my eyes at him again. What’s sad is that he’s not entirely joking. I’m sure every nurse on the surgery service is throwing herself at him. And probably a good chunk of them are pretty and blond.

  “So while you’re stuck here,” he says, “I want to show you something.”

  He takes me gently by the arm and I let him lead me through Dr. Kirschstein’s vast estate. We pass through another room, then through the kitchen, then he leads me through some alcove and finally through a door that leads to a glass-enclosed patio. There’s a red velvety sofa in the patio, and a view through the glass of what will be the Kirschsteins’ swimming pool in a few months, and then the surrounding woods. But most of all, we’re the only people here. After the throng of bodies and conversation in the rest of the house, the silence here is almost startling.

  “We’re probably not supposed to be here,” Ryan says, “but to hell with it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I mumble. “He’s not your boss.”

  Ryan stares through the glass of the patio, off into the black distance. “Remember in residency, when I used to take you to the roof of the hospital?”

  I do remember that. I know why this patio makes him think of that—it’s so peaceful and quiet. It’s a perfect place to be alone. I used to go up to the roof of the hospital all the time when I was sad or thoughtful or just overwhelmed.

  “I remember,” I murmur. “I used to go up there all the time.”

  “I know.” He smiles, almost sadly. “Sometimes I’d see you up there alone and I’d leave before you saw me.”

  “How come?”

  He shrugs. “I figured if you came up there alone, you wanted to be alone.”

  Ryan looks at me now with an unreadable expression on his face. I can’t help but think of all those moments during residency when we’d be together, staring into each other’s eyes, and I was absolutely certain what he felt for me went beyond just a casual fling. That he really loved me. God knows, I loved him.

  “Did you ever consider getting tested?” I ask suddenly.

  He lowers his blue eyes. “Jane…”

  “I know you had this whole philosophy about how you couldn’t deal with a positive result,” I say. “That it would ruin your life to know…”

  “Exactly,” he interrupts me. “I explained it to you a million times. If I found out it was positive, that I was going to end up like my dad, I don’t think I could have dealt with it. My brother completely fell apart.”

  “So basically, you lived your life like you were going to get sick,” I point out.

  He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. I’ve had a good life.”

  “But didn’t you ever consider taking the risk?” The volume of my voice has risen several notches. “Didn’t you ever think about maybe getting yourself tested so that you and I could… so that…”

  A lump rises in my throat. When I was dating Ryan, I always wished he’d change his mind. I wanted it more than anything. In my heart, I knew he’d be negative. I could tell he was healthy. He clearly didn’t have some crazy neurodegenerative disease—I’d know if he did. But he never even considered getting tested. Because I wasn’t worth the risk to him.

  “Well, what’s the difference?” he says quietly. “Things worked out well for you, didn’t they?”

  I look away from him. There was a time when I would have said yes, that things did work out just as they were meant to. I married a wonderful man who could express his love for me in a way that Ryan never could. Then that man started complaining about everything, never helped with chores, and hardly ever told me he loved me anymore. And then he abandoned me at a party in Ronkonkoma with a handsome surgeon who offered me a ride home.

  And I said yes.

  Chapter 17

  Ryan hasn’t managed to snag a much better parking spot than Ben did. The walk to his car seems interminable and it’s only gotten col
der over the last two hours that I was at the party. Ryan has one of those Thinsulate coats that is a lot warmer than it looks, as well as a hat and scarf. I’m the only idiot who didn’t dress for the weather.

  “You want my scarf, don’t you?” Ryan says.

  “N-no,” I say. It’s hard to keep my teeth from chattering.

  He rolls his eyes and unravels his scarf from his neck. I expect him to hand it to me, but instead, he gently wraps it around my neck, then tucks the ends into the neck of my coat. It’s oddly intimate. “There,” he says. “Better?”

  I nod.

  We walk the rest of the way in freezing silence. When Ryan gets out his keys and presses the button to unlock his car, I nearly burst out laughing when I see the headlights flash on a Porsche. It’s such a stereotypical arrogant surgeon car! It’s even red.

  “What?” Ryan says.

  “A red Porsche? Seriously?”

  He grins at me. “Hey, I didn’t have a car for like fifteen years when I lived in the city. Now I get to have my Porsche.”

  I have to admit, it’s a nice car. When I slide into the leather seat next to Ryan, I can appreciate why he likes it. It’s a lot nicer than the Prius. I’m further impressed when I see the stick shift. I had no idea he knew how to drive a stick. I can barely operate an automatic.

  Ryan winks at me. “Want the top down?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Where do you live?” he asks me. I give him my address and he nods, “That’s right on the way to my house.”

  I can’t help but smirk, and Ryan raises his eyebrows at me. “Sorry,” I say. “It’s just hard for me to imagine the infamous Dr. Ryan Reilly with a house on Long Island.”

  “Why?”

  I nudge him. “You know. You were all about that bachelor pad you had in the city. Remember?”