“How do you like your new job?” Olivia asked Steven, assuming he had started that week.
“It’s not exactly new, almost three months now. But no complaints.”
Three months. Olivia smiled falsely as the feeling of betrayal, and all that came with it, returned. Her heart tightened in her chest, but still she smiled. Lauren politely asked Spencer about his work, and thankfully all eyes turned to him. She was glad that she had put her thumbprint in his phone. As soon as he fell asleep she was going to find it again, open up his Map My Run app, and see exactly where he’d been running to every morning.
* * *
—
On the ride home from dinner Olivia was silent. She knew Spencer would notice, knew he would ask what the matter was, but she couldn’t bear to make small talk. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.
He thought he was being cute, but he had no idea how telling his little idiom was. Olivia pinched herself. College was not so long ago. Her sophomore class at Wellesley on the history of idioms had been one of her favorites. The phrase “cat got your tongue” was derived from ancient Egypt, where liars’ tongues were cut out and fed to the cats. She looked over at him and saw who he really was—a liar. He was a cheat and a fraud who had now made her life fraudulent as well.
It took every ounce of self-control to keep her mouth shut. She thought about her confession earlier, and how he had made her feel like she was crazy. It had felt awful to question her own sanity like that. To feel like some kind of lunatic wife who had come undone.
She stopped herself from rehashing everything that had transpired that night and focused on the possibility of creating an authentic life without Spencer, centered on caring for herself and her beautiful baby girl. She thought about the watercolors in her Amazon cart and diving back into graphic design again. An old client had left her a message just the other day about updating his logo. Thinking about things in her control calmed her. She breathed in and out purposefully and let her mind go to what needed to be done in order to achieve her goals—finding that second phone again and using it to bury the stranger sitting next to her.
“I’m just sitting here thinking how lucky I am that you forgave me for snooping,” she responded.
“You’re not yourself, honey. I understand. It’s the hormones.” He put his hand on her leg as he had on the way there. Now she recoiled from it.
At home she purposefully spent an extra few minutes in the bathroom getting ready for bed. He was out cold when she returned.
She said his name quietly. “Spencer?” Nothing.
And a little louder. “Spencer!” Still nothing.
She threw in a few choice words before heading to his closet to search for the other phone. By the time she reached the point of frustration, Lily cried her hungry cry from the crib, saving her from looking further. As she nursed, she pondered what could be so bad about it being just her and Lily. Alison was doing it alone and seemed so happy. But she gulped away tears as that desire faded; she was and had always been a Disney princess kind of girl whose happily-ever-after had always included a prince—a loyal prince, that is. This scenario—with Snow White busily keeping house while Prince Charming jogs by Cinderella’s every morning for a quickie—was not her dream.
She fell asleep in the chair; a blessing really, as she knew there was nothing lonelier than sleeping next to someone you despise. In the morning, Spencer came into Lily’s room and kissed her on the top of her head. She felt a pang of love: a moment in which she’d forgotten what was really going on.
“Come back to bed, baby, and get some rest,” he said.
“I’m OK.” She smiled, still vacillating between sleep and hell. She woke up and thought it through. It was Sunday, Spencer would not be running, and she would have little chance of finding that phone. She changed her mind.
“Actually. Would you mind taking care of Lily? I’m not feeling great and could use some more sleep.”
She stayed in bed until noon, a personal postcollege record. She only had to make it ten more hours without bludgeoning him.
CHAPTER 33
Alison & Marc
When Alison left for the city the next morning there were already three messages from Jack or Jackie. It didn’t matter what she called him now because she vowed never to call him again. Brought up by a woman deceived, she loathed any kind of deception. Still, she was feeling horrible and confused as to why she was feeling so horrible and confused about a man she barely knew.
When she’d returned home the night before, she went through their entire online correspondence. Her anger increased exponentially with each duplicitous post. Especially his last—Follow your heart. She was done with that; she was back to following her head again as she always had. Her mother had been right all along.
She was looking forward to seeing Marc—anxious to hear what he had to say and eager to make the right choices for her and Zachary without a romantic component. It was bizarre to admit, but she felt the sting of Jack’s betrayal on a much more personal level than she did Marc’s rejection of her pregnancy.
Her first thought upon hearing that Marc wanted to talk was, I will not lose control of my child, though she knew she couldn’t assume a court would side with her if she denied Marc’s paternal rights. She spent the night tossing and turning, but that was not what kept her awake. Her thoughts turned to Zach’s future and how important it was for him to have family in it. She realized that, in the time between her mother’s passing and Zachary’s birth, she had felt unanchored. She never wanted him to feel that way.
Had she known what it would take to pack up a baby for a whole day and drive into the city, she might have walked around handing trophies to new mothers who did so. As she pulled into the parking garage on East Sixty-Eighth Street, she had never felt more accomplished.
She met Marc at the Central Park Zoo as planned. He was practically dressed for a deposition in a sports jacket and khakis. It made her laugh to think that this was his casual Sunday look. She realized he wouldn’t be the kind of dad that would play ball with Zach, if she were to welcome him that way. But that would be OK. She had a pretty good arm for throwing a baseball. Maybe Marc could teach him how to play chess and squash. She had no idea if he played either, but if she were to guess . . .
He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and Zach with an awkward pat on his head. They walked around the whole zoo as if they had a curious toddler with them, not a clueless baby.
“I’m embarrassed to say this,” Marc admitted, “but I haven’t been here since I was a kid. I’ve hardly visited any of the city’s tourist spots in years. I’m always working.”
“One good thing about having a kid: You get to see things anew through their eyes.”
“That’s true. I remember loving the top of the Empire State Building when I was young. Maybe I can take Zach there when he’s old enough.”
Alison was happy to hear, for Zachary’s sake, that Marc was thinking past today. She was glad that his words elicited a positive reaction in her, as opposed to more panic over losing control. Though it all felt simple while they were walking around the zoo, she knew it could easily become quite complicated. She wasn’t committing to anything.
They returned to the seals for feeding time, along with just about every person at the zoo that day. She imagined that since Gus, the famous neurotic polar bear, had passed away, the seals and the penguins had been duking it out for top billing. She was clearly right.
Alison pulled out her phone and took a selfie of her, Zach, and Marc with a seal perched up on the side of the glass enclosure photobombing them. It was a great shot of a seemingly happy family. If today was all there was of the story of Zachary Le and Marc Sugarman, then at least she could give him this picture one day. This is your father. He just didn’t have it in him. It is not a reflection on you.
“Can you send me that?” Marc asked. As
she forwarded him the picture, she thought back on all of the time they had been together. There had never been any need for photographic evidence or a desire for some memento of their relationship. It’s funny how a baby changes everything.
By the time they reached the petting zoo, which neither had any interest in, it was time for Zach’s bottle. They walked uptown a few blocks and settled in under the shade of an oak tree overlooking the Seventy-Second Street playground. Alison handed the baby to Marc while she mixed the bottle. He held him so awkwardly that it made her think about how she had felt when Jack took him in his arms. She shook herself mentally. Why was she hung up on this guy she’d been on two dates with? So what if he didn’t turn out to be who she thought he was? It’s not like that hadn’t happened before. She looked at Marc, who was holding Zach with the ease of a vegan holding a piece of raw chicken, and laughed.
“Let me show you how it’s done.”
“Please.”
When she finally got the baby situated, she asked Marc if he wanted to feed Zach the bottle.
“I’ll try,” he responded nervously. Zach was extra hungry and really sucked the bottle down, which made it easy in some ways, but harder in others. She sat back so as not to hover over them. She was being careful to appear to be a good mother. She wondered why, wondered if it was the lawyer in her building her case—“the defendant is an excellent mother, even the plaintiff would testify to that.” They were having a surprisingly nice day, but she was suddenly eager to hear the bottom line. What did he want?
When it was time to burp him, Alison took over, in more ways than one.
“You did good,” she said kindly. Zach let out a power burp, and Marc beamed.
“Wow! That was some burp!”
A feeling of pride came over him that until then had only been reserved for court or a winning squash set. It surprised him.
Alison knew his facial expressions well enough to notice something was up. She couldn’t wait any longer.
“Marc? What’s going on?”
He paused. “We’ve always been honest with each other, right?”
She nodded her head. “Absolutely.”
After the Jackie fiasco it seemed even more important.
“I came to see you the other day because I’ve been approached to run for mayor. The candidate they were exploring before me was Reed Coakly, so needless to say he’s out.”
Like the rest of the free world, Alison knew that Reed Coakly had just been exposed in a sexting scandal similar to Anthony Weiner’s. “Exposed” being the key word. Marc continued, “They put a lot into him, both time and money, and they can’t risk another mistake. It turns out that fathering a baby who I have nothing to do with is considered a mistake.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised that this whole reunion of sorts was so calculated; everything Marc Sugarman did was calculated. But she was. Both surprised and hurt. It showed on her face, and he immediately addressed it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention this on Thursday night, but when I got to your house my underlying motives suddenly felt irrelevant.”
She didn’t seem to be budging.
He continued. “You know I’m not a very sensitive guy. When people say ‘all the feels,’ I have no idea what they’re talking about. But when I picked up the picture of Zach, just the picture, I felt more than I’d ever felt in my life.”
His candor was touching. Alison was most definitely touched.
“So, my real reason for coming suddenly felt idiotic, and I was scared you would slam the door in my face if I presented myself as the selfish prick that I usually am.”
Alison smiled at his honesty, albeit delayed. At least he owned up to it, unlike someone she knew—or didn’t know, as it turned out. She was curious and, as she usually was with him, direct.
“OK. Tell me more about what you need from me.”
“The committee to elect is hoping you would be on board, in some fashion, for the campaign.”
“Meaning?”
“Anything from not hurting my candidacy by revealing what a complete jerk I was about the pregnancy and the baby . . . to marrying me.”
He laughed. So did she. It was funny.
What she didn’t realize is that he would seriously consider marrying her. In fact he had already done a pro-and-con spreadsheet. When he sat down and thought about it, thought about her, he realized he’d never been more attracted to anyone than he was to Alison. And it wasn’t just a sexual attraction; he was equally enticed by her brilliant mind and her one-of-the-guys attitude. The only cons were his disdain for emotional intimacy and the interruption of his alone time, both overridden by an increasingly burning desire to become the next mayor of New York.
But she laughed when he said marriage, causing him to backpedal.
“I told them there is no way you would enter into a fake marriage.” He paused for her to confirm or deny his statement.
“That is correct. I don’t even know if I would enter into a real one.” She laughed again.
No one understood her point more than Marc Sugarman. Bearing witness to his parents’ toxic marriage and wicked divorce poisoned him against the institution long ago. Still, he knew that nothing could humanize him more than a woman like Alison and their son standing by his side. He came right out and said it.
“I really need you, Alison.”
“I get it. I believe in you, Marc. I want to be there for you on this.”
He smiled with relief. It made her smile, too. Mostly because of the irony of him needing her when she had managed to not need him whatsoever.
“The best alternatives are: You stand by my side without much explanation to the press, or I call you my fiancée until sometime after the election.”
His team was very hopeful that they would land on the fiancée agreement. After Alison’s response to the M word, he was not.
Alison sat back against the tree, her mind running in many directions. She had very high hopes for Zachary, and being the mayor’s son wouldn’t hurt his future. She couldn’t help but consider the leg up that would give him in life. Gracie Mansion was quite the leap from the one-bedroom in Queens that had housed her own inauspicious beginnings. Not that she hadn’t done fine, and she relished that self-made success.
There was another factor that she needed to consider, one that Marc guessed would weigh heavily on her when he brought all of this nonsense up. She very much believed that Marc would be an excellent mayor. Despite his lack of easygoing charm, Marc cared about the city, a lot. And would be just the right amount of asshole to get things done. And she despised his opponent. His proposed policies would have horrible repercussions on the city’s undocumented immigrants, and Alison saw her mother’s young face in every one of them.
She couldn’t deny how exciting it would be to be a part of the good fight. Maybe a “for appearances” relationship would give them time to discover if anything more between them was possible? Maybe this was a chance for her and Zach to have a family of sorts—the pragmatic, anti–fairy tale that was more her speed. She asked the hard question: “We first need to discuss what part you really want in Zach’s life—not just for the cameras.”
“Of course. I’m sorry for not bringing that up first. I can tell you that I very much want to be in Zach’s life in some capacity, regardless of what you decide. I know it’s up to you. I can see that you’re a great mother and I trust you to do what’s best for him.”
And then the oddest thing happened: His eyes began to well with tears as he ran his hand through Zach’s sparse hair. He choked up.
“Thank you for giving me a son, for seeing his life as a gift. I feel ashamed for not having seen it that way myself. Very ashamed.”
His tears begat hers. They both laughed and wiped their eyes.
“I will stand beside you, Marc. But I don’t think the press will
stand for your no-explanation idea. How about when asked we say we are engaged to be engaged but want to concentrate right now on the election.”
Of course she came up with a better plan than his team of experts, he thought.
“Thank you, Alison. That sounds perfect.”
“You will be a great mayor, Marc, and, I bet, a good dad as well.”
“Well, at least we know he’ll be proud of me on snow days!”
They both laughed, the way one does when it’s really needed. It was a tough thing to figure out and they both felt satisfied with the resolution.
They sat back quietly and stared at the kids playing in the playground. Within minutes Alison found herself wondering what Zachary would be like at their age. Marc found himself wondering if a promise to upgrade the city’s playgrounds would secure the mommy and daddy vote. If they had expressed their thoughts out loud, they might have realized how far apart they truly were.
CHAPTER 34
Olivia
On Monday morning when Spencer left for his run, Olivia set up Lily’s baby monitor in their bedroom for his return. She was leaving nothing to chance. She watched from the kitchen as Spencer walked into the room and immediately slipped the phone under the mattress. Got you, she thought.
She was still seething when he kissed her goodbye, a Stepford smile plastered on her face.
“It should be a light day today. I’ll be home for dinner for sure.”
“Great!” she responded without breaking.
When he left, she felt a weird sense of strength come over her.
The running app was quite simple to figure out. I’m as resourceful as Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone, she thought with a laugh. Not a big laugh, but enough to pinch the anger a bit.
What she discovered threw her for a loop—that loop being a direct line from her house to Eliza Hunt’s.
Eliza Starts a Rumor Page 19
