Hello, Sunshine

And still, when I arrived at my old apartment in Tribeca, I was famished. Not so famished as to not be worried that when I knocked on the door Maggie would be there. Though if I had puzzled this together correctly, my husband certainly would.

So I didn’t knock. I turned the key and walked inside.

And there was Danny, sitting at the dining room table, working on a blueprint.

“Jesus!”

Danny jumped up, shocked and confused.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said. “Though I guess I don’t have to.”

I looked around the apartment. He had gotten rid of our furniture. Refurnished. Or, probably, Maggie had. The fuzzy and frilly couch had her shabby chic name all over it.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Sunny, this is not what it looks like.”

“Really? ’Cause it looks like you set me up. It looks like you orchestrated the end of my career, and stole my home away, probably to move in with your girlfriend . . .”

He shook his head. “I knew I should’ve called you back that night,” he said. “Maggie is not living here.”

“You are, though, right? When did you start planning this, Danny? Technology certainly isn’t your strong suit. Who showed you how to send tweets on a timed schedule? Who even showed you how to tweet?”

He was incredibly calm, the way he always was, which at the moment was infuriating.

“It wasn’t tough to figure out,” he said.

I felt hot tears start pouring down my face. “I guess you were pretty motivated.”

He met my eyes. Fourteen years. “I guess I was.”

“So you found out about Ryan? And you sought revenge?”

“It wasn’t about revenge, Sunny.”

“Then what? Maggie? Was this all so you guys could be together?”

“There is nothing going on with Maggie. She is helping me redecorate, but that’s all. You should know that I would never do that.”

“How can you ask me to know anything about you anymore?”

“Maggie is dating a new guy. Simon Callahan. He owns a couple of restaurants in Brooklyn. I haven’t been going out a lot, so that night, the night you called, she said that she wasn’t leaving unless I went out with her to meet him. I had just gotten off work, so I jumped in the shower. She was being a friend. That’s it.”

I made a mental note to look him up. “That doesn’t explain why she was answering your phone.”

“She forgot her phone. She needed to reach her sister because she was supposed to head out to the Hamptons, but she stuck around to see Simon.”

That sounded like Maggie. I wasn’t sure, though. I wasn’t sure what to think of that—what to think of any of this.

“Not that I have to explain anything to you, but I would hate for you to think a woman would be the reason why. This only has to do with us. You, actually.”

I looked at him, willing myself to stop crying. And failing.

He didn’t look away, but he didn’t move any closer, either.

He shook his head. “You were so far gone for so long. There was no way to make you understand . . .”