On Mystic Lake

At that, Blake felt something inside him shift and give way. He realized the truth, the one he’d been denying for months. He loved Annie, but it wasn’t enough. He’d cheat on her. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even this year; but sooner or later, he’d slide back into his old routine. It was only a matter of time.

And when he did, he would be lost again. There was nothing on earth lonelier than a man who betrayed his wife on a regular basis. Blake knew how seductive it was—the temptation to possess a stranger, make love in the middle of the night with a nameless woman. But afterward, it left him broken somehow, ashamed of himself and unable to meet his wife’s gaze.

Shaken, he turned away from the woman in the catsuit and left the bar. He drove home and parked in the garage. Tiredly, he went into the dark, cool house. Without bothering to flick on any lights, he headed through the kitchen.

He found Annie waiting for him in the living room. She was sitting on the sofa, with her feet tucked up underneath her. “Hello, Blake,” she said in a soft, tired voice that seemed to cut through his heart.

He stopped dead. For no reason at all, he thought she’d seen him tonight, that she knew what he’d almost done. “Hey, Annie,” he said, forcing a smile.

“You’re late. ”

“A bunch of us went to the sports bar on Fourth. We won a big settle—”

“It was Natalie’s birthday party tonight. ”

Blake winced. “Oh. Shit. I forgot to mark it on my office calendar. ”

“I’m sure she’ll love that answer. ”

“You should have called to remind me. ”

“Don’t turn it on me, Blake. You’re the one who screwed up. You can remember when a client owes an alimony check, but you forget your daughter’s eighteenth birthday. ” She sighed. “You should go see her now—I’ll bet she’s still awake. ”

“She’s probably tired. . . . ”

“She deserves an explanation. ”

He turned and moved to the elegant stone table that hugged the wall, staring at his own reflection in a gilt-framed mirror. “Natalie’s angry with me,” he said softly. “When she was in London, I didn’t call her. I sent flowers every week. A girl loves to get flowers, that’s what Suz . . . ” He realized what he was going to say and clamped his mouth shut.

“Suzannah was wrong,” Annie said tiredly, reading his thoughts. “A seventeen-year-old girl needs a lot more than flowers from her father’s secretary every Friday. ”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Without you, I was . . . lost with Natalie. I kept thinking I should call, and then a deposition or a court date would come up, and I’d forget. I’ll make it all up to her, though, even tonight. ”

He turned back to Annie. Now she was on her feet. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed. In a pair of ratty sweats and a UW sweatshirt that had seen better days, she looked more like a runaway teen than his wife. “I’ll get her a laptop. ”

“She’ll be leaving for school on Sunday. We won’t see her again until spring break, and soon . . . we won’t be seeing much of her at all. She’ll find her own place in the world and she won’t be coming home to us as much. ”

Us. He tried to take courage from that single, simple word, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “So, what do I say to her?”

“I don’t know. ”

“Of course you do. You always—”

“No more. If you’re going to forge a relationship with your daughter, it’s up to you. No more Cliffs Notes on the situation from me. ”

“Come on—”

“Who’s her boyfriend, Blake?”

“She doesn’t have one. ”

“Really? That will come as something of a surprise to Brian. And what does she want to study in school?”

It was hard to think with her looking at him that way. “Law, like me. She wants to be a partner in the firm some day. ”

“Really? When did you last discuss it?”

“Last year?” It came out as a question, and at her look, he knew it was wrong. “Two years ago?”