“Oh, my,” Lucy said, and I could imagine her shaking her head.
“I didn’t call him back at first,” Gretchen continued. “After several attempts to get in touch, though, I finally gave in and agreed to see him.”
“Seriously?” Lucy asked as I took three wineglasses from a cupboard and got to pouring.
“Yes. It started with a drink, an apology for what he’s put me through. He said he’d made a mistake by leaving.” Gretchen sniffed. “The second time we met up, he said he wanted to try again.”
“And you agreed?” Lucy asked.
I carried out the three glasses of red wine, set them on the coffee table, and sat next to Lucy.
“Of course I protested,” Gretchen said, picking up her glass, “but you know how it goes. One thing led to another, and well, we’ve started dating again.”
Lucy clamped a hand over her mouth and muffled, “You’ve been keeping this to yourself?”
“Yes. I guess I was afraid he’d change his mind again. It was mortifying the first time being dumped like that. I don’t exactly want witnesses if it happens again.”
“He’s the one who should be mortified,” I pointed out and took a sip.
“Why did he move here?” Lucy asked.
Gretchen handed Lucy the last glass of wine. “There was an opening with his company, but . . .”
“But what?” I asked.
“Well, he says that’s not the reason. Something about coming back to be with me,” she said, reddening. “Because he misses how we were.”
Lucy sighed and rested her chin in her hand. “Wow.”
“I’m not sure I believe it, though,” Gretchen added.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Lucy demanded, her tone teetering on outrage. “It’s every girl’s fantasy to have a man come back and grovel for her like that.”
“He doesn’t exactly have a squeaky clean record,” I reminded Lucy. “Who knows if he’s being sincere?”
“But maybe it’s different this time,” Lucy countered. “People change. They want different things as they get older.”
“That’s putting a lot of faith in him,” Gretchen said.
Lucy looked thoughtful as she took a sip of wine. “So let me get this straight. He left his entire life behind and moved across an ocean for you. Geez, that’s like right out of a movie.”
Gretchen looked skeptical. “I don’t know if I would quite say—”
“This is like, super romantic,” Lucy chirped over her. “He realized he made a huge mistake and couldn’t spend another day without you.”
Gretchen rolled her eyes, but a dimple appeared in her cheek.
The corner of Lucy’s mouth tugged, and she broke into a large smile. “This is major.”
“It is?” Gretchen asked.
Lucy nodded. “This could be it.”
“I don’t follow . . .” Gretchen’s eyes narrowed as she focused on Lucy.
“He might be ‘the one.’”
“Jesus Christ,” Gretchen blurted. “It’s only been a month.”
“Gretchen, he moved here from Japan for you. It’s not like he drove over from Indianapolis. He couldn’t stop thinking about you for, like, years. That’s true love. You’re the one that got away.”
“I think you have that the wrong way around.”
“Don’t you love him?” Lucy asked.
“I think so.”
“You think?” I asked.
“After all this time, how do I know if I still love him? Is he the same person? Am I? How can I know if this is right?”
“You can’t, Gretchen. Love means having faith.” Lucy swirled the wine in her glass and looked off into the distance. “Of course you still love him. That doesn’t just go away.”
“Maybe not . . . but what if it lessened?” Gretchen asked. “I’m not really sure how I feel.”
“Love doesn’t have levels,” Lucy decided. “It just is.”
I flicked my thumbnail over the rim of my glass. “So you can’t love one person more than another?” I asked quietly.
“No, I just mean that love doesn’t change or morph into something else. It just is, you either love him or you don’t. Of course I love Andrew more than anyone else, but that doesn’t mean I love you guys any less. I just love you in a different way.”
“What about loving two people at the same time?” I asked. They both looked at me. “In the same way,” I added.
“You mean like friends?”
I felt suddenly warm and pulled at my collar. “No . . . not friends.”
“I don’t understand,” was all Lucy said while her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead.
“Like what if Gretchen had met someone else when Greg was away,” I said. “What if she were married now? When Greg shows up, does she love them both?”
“Well, no,” Lucy said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because that’s just not plausible,” Lucy said, seeming to grow cross. “You can only love one or the other.”
“Never mind,” I said. I knew better than to point out that maybe her theory had some holes.
“This is much too philosophical for my state of mind.” Gretchen tossed back the last of her wine and set the empty glass on the table. “I think we’re getting way, way ahead of ourselves. Marriage is not even in the equation, trust me.”
Lucy pursed her lips to show that she didn’t approve. She looked at me. “I’m not even going to ask what you think. After your drunken diatribe at my bachelorette party, I’m sure it’s cynical.”
I smiled a little, glad I’d started to move out of that phase. But I would always be part-skeptic, no matter what. “Sorry, but I’m with Gretchen. Anyway, there’s one very important detail that makes this whole discussion—they’re breaking up.”
“Wait, back up,” Lucy said, turning to Gretchen. “What?”
Gretchen stuck a decorative pillow under her arm and fidgeted with its fringe. “I ditched him for another guy on Saturday night.”
Lucy cocked her head at Gretchen and shook it slowly. “Gretchen, how could you? After all this time you’ve waited for him to come back.”
“Waited? I haven’t waited for shit,” Gretchen said. “I’d made my peace with the fact that I’d never see Greg again. But then he comes waltzing back into my life in true Greg fashion and expects things to go back to the way they were. Do you think I want to put myself through that again?”
I slanted my lips at her. “But you should have discussed your feelings with him like a mature adult.”
“You’re one to talk, Olivia.”
My jaw dropped, my eyes darting over her. She had a point, but this wasn’t the time to bring up my issues. Lucy still had no idea about anything concerning David.
“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.
“Nothing,” Gretchen said with a sigh. “I’m just upset. You’re right, Liv. I could have handled it better.”
Relieved to skip over the subject, I tried to help Gretchen out. “She hadn’t even slept with Greg,” I told Lucy. “That’s how hurt she still is.”
“You didn’t?” Lucy asked her.
“No. And I didn’t hook up with the Saturday night guy either.” Gretchen pulled at the pillow’s fabric. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“So just tell Greg that,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I left him,” she said. “I’ve been avoiding him ever since, and I’m sure he’s pissed. I don’t even know if I want to work things out. What if he leaves again?”
If I’d had more faith in Greg, or love for that matter, I would have told Gretchen not to be afraid. Even though my marriage had been happy, the disappointment of my parents’ divorce was always fresh in my mind. There was no guarantee that people wouldn’t suddenly change their minds. And to tell Gretchen that Greg wouldn’t leave again was a reassurance I couldn’t give her. I grabbed her hand instead. She tilted her head at me but didn’t say anything.
> “If you love him, then you have to try,” Lucy said, her voice an octave above a whisper. “Don’t give up because of fear.”
Gretchen rubbed her temples. “Liv, I don’t think I can go to the ball this weekend.”
“Ball?” I asked, frowning. “What ball?”
“Um . . . does the masquerade ball ring any bells?” Gretchen asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “You hounded us all to buy tickets back in June.”
“Your animal shelter charity event,” Lucy said. “Didn’t you help plan it?”
Right . . . the masquerade ball. I’d completely forgotten. Then again, most of the summer, I’d been a complete zombie. Did that mean I no longer was? Since Lucy’s wedding, life had been creeping back in, pushing out my anger, grief, and regret. And apparently, I was going to a ball.
“I forgot that was this weekend,” I said. “I have to go, but it’s fine if you guys want to skip it. You already paid, so the shelter will get the money.”
“Well, we’re definitely going,” Lucy said. “And Dani will be in town. You could give her the tickets.”
My ears perked at the mention of her sister’s name. Was she here to see David?
“They’re all hers,” Gretchen said.
But what would Dani do with the extra one? I was afraid to ask.
And anyway, Lucy was already moving on to the one subject she really wanted to discuss. “So, can we talk about my Parisian honeymoon now?” she asked excitedly.
* * *
Droplets of turquoise water, the smell of chlorine, skin slick against skin, hovering above the rest of the world, wandering fingers, curious tongues, fistfuls of hair . . .
Heat pooled inside of me, turning me warm and tender. David had cradled me on his lap and held me close. He’d not only listened but had heard me, and when he watched me, it was with attentive eyes. I tried to forget the feeling of his lips claiming mine or of him swelling inside of me.
I jumped when the front door slammed. On our living room couch, I picked up the nearest magazine, hiding my flushed face behind it.
“Hey,” Bill said.
“Hi, honey,” I said from behind an article on graceful aging. “How was work?”
All week had been that way—on the train, in my office, at the deli—I couldn’t stop the scorching memories from infiltrating my life. Between work and home, I hadn’t even been able to relieve myself, and I was feeling full to the brim with no outlet.
“Liv?” Bill asked, setting his keys on the coffee table.
“Yes?”
“I asked how your day was.”
“Oh, fine. I picked up our costumes for the masquerade ball this weekend. Thank goodness I ordered them a while back or I might’ve forgotten. Do you want to see your mask?”
“I don’t really care. Thanks for picking it out.” He plopped onto the couch next to me. “But listen. Jeanine has a couple houses she wants us to see. How’s Sunday?”
Shame. It was red and ugly and had to be written all over my face. No, I could not see houses with Bill, because I was gutless and afraid. How could I tell him that things were moving too fast when for him, they weren’t moving fast enough? When I’d chosen this life by running out on David months ago? Just because I’d given into David a second time didn’t change the reasons I’d left him before.
“Are you all right? You look pale,” Bill said, leaning in to hold the back of his hand against my forehead. He brushed some of my hair from my face. “I’m worried that you’re slipping away again. You’ve been quiet this week.”
“Oh. No,” I said softly. God, I wasn’t being fair to him. “I’m okay.”
“I think . . .” He paused and looked over at the coffee table. “I think it might be time to see someone.”
“Someone?”
“Therapy.”
I almost laughed. Us, in therapy? Bill had made fun of other couples for going that route.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “and yes, I still think it’s sort of bullshit. But I’m running out of ideas, Livs. I don’t know how to deal with this anymore.”
“This?” I asked. He said it as if I’d contracted some kind of disease. Glossy pages crinkled when I clenched the magazine. “You mean therapy for us or for me?”
“For you,” he said, drawing back. “Why would we need therapy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why would I?”
He hesitated. “One minute you’re up, the next you’re down. At this point I’m willing to try anything.”
Except couples therapy, apparently. “I—I . . .”
“I don’t know what else to give you,” he said, “and it’s messing with my head.”
You should see the inside of mine, I thought.
Therapy meant shining a light in those dark places. Admitting what I’d done—not once, but twice. Opening up about the reasons why I’d chosen Bill, and why questioning them had led to David . . . there had to be another way.
Someone else I could talk to.
Mack Donovan. His wife had died, and I’d been neglecting him out of my own selfish fear of how devastated he’d be without her. Without the love of his life, Davena. “I’ll go see Mack,” I blurted. “Maybe talking to him would help.”
“That’s a great idea, babe. Really great. I think talking about Davena’s death with him would be a good start.” Bill took my hand and kissed the back of it. “How about Saturday morning? I’ll take you.”
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Great,” he said again. “What should I tell Jeanine about the houses?”
“Actually,” I said, looking at him over the magazine, “I promised George I’d put in some time at the shelter on Sunday.”
“Okay. Maybe next weekend, then,” he said. He smiled, but his mouth drooped at the corners.
* * *
Mack had been very gracious over the phone. After four months, I was ready to see him again for the first time since the funeral, but a knot sat heavy in my stomach. It had been too long.
I almost didn’t recognize the man who opened the door. He’d lost weight, and his sallow skin drooped, but his lively eyes remained.
“Come in, come in,” he coaxed Bill and me.
I handed him a plateful of brownies I’d baked the night before. “I know these are late, but I wanted you to have them.”
“My favorite, dear,” he said, setting them down. “Thank you.”
Seeing him again overwhelmed me. Tears flooded my eyes as I stepped into his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” I rasped.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, petting my hair. “It’s okay. It’s been hard for all of us.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated as tears spilled onto his shoulder. “I miss her,” I whispered. “She was so good to me, and I didn’t deserve it.”
He pulled back to look me in the eyes. “How can you say that? Of course you deserve it. She loved you like her own, and there’s no reason she shouldn’t have. You brought her so much happiness.”
I shook my head. “I’ve been terrible,” I said through blurred eyes. “I’m awful.”
Mack raised an eyebrow at Bill over my shoulder. “What is she talking about?”
“She’s taking this very hard. It’s been a rough few months, Mack. In fact, this is the first time she’s cried since she found out.”
“Can you give us a minute?” I choked out. There was a hesitation before Bill agreed, but when he did, his voice pitched with a hint of bitterness.
Mack guided me to the same couch I’d sat on with Davena during our last visit. I fell rather than sat and bawled rather than cried into my hands. He handed me a box of tissues, and when I could, I looked up to face him.
“I think about her every day, Mack, and you, too. I hope you know how much you mean to me. There’s no excuse for not coming earlier.”
“I know. People grieve in different ways. You made her happy, and that’s all I could ever ask for.”
I sniffled and looked at my hands.
“What kind of person am I for not visiting? You’ve been there for me through everything, and this is how I repay you? I’m terrible,” I said quietly and erupted into tears. “Terrible, terrible,” I ranted, “I’ve done something terrible.”
He scooted closer and wrapped me in his arms, rocking me back and forth. “That’s it, just let it out.”
Mack’s love was overwhelming. I wondered how it could be so strong. It hadn’t diminished in the absence of his wife, even though she’d been, and still was, the center of his world. It was my greatest fear, here in front of me. To love someone the way he had loved Davena and to lose him suddenly to something that was so wildly out of my control.
“How do you get up every morning?” I asked into his shirt.
“Reluctantly, like everyone else,” he joked. “Really, life is too short to be so unhappy. You have to let go of the past or you’re denying yourself a future. Whatever is holding you back—whatever you’ve done—you must forgive yourself.”
“What if what I’ve done is unforgivable?”
“Olivia, nothing is unforgiveable. But only you can figure out how to move forward. I can’t tell you how.”
“Did you ever doubt your love for Davena?” I asked softly.
He squeezed me closer. “We fought a lot, dear. We were very different people. Did I ever tell you that we separated once?”
I pulled back to look at him. “No.”
“We did, a long, long time ago for a few weeks.”
“So even you had doubts?”
“Doubts?” he repeated. “No. I never doubted that I wanted to be with her. Not since the moment she agreed to have dinner with me. Those few weeks were the worst of my life. I was miserable without her. I know it’s cliché, but I felt incomplete, and not until we got back together did I feel whole again.”
Goose bumps sprang over my body at his words.
Whole.
“You’re what I need, David. Make me whole again.”
He continued before the meaning could sink in. “We separated because it felt necessary at the time, but I would’ve died before I let her get away.”
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 46
