“No,” I sighed. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
Gretchen bit her lip and nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll support you no matter what.”
“No matter what?”
“Of course.”
“When Bill and I went to see Oak Park . . . I loved the house so much and yet, when I tried to see myself there with Bill and a family . . . Nothing.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the right house.”
I nodded, but was flooded with the visions of David: he and I making love on the floor in front of the fire, baking in the kitchen, covered in flour as we laughed . . . I shook my head quickly.
“Is Bill still pressuring you about kids?”
“He thinks we’re ready. I’m supposed to stop birth control.”
She jerked her head at me. “What? I’m sorry, but is that really a good idea, considering . . . ?”
“He refuses to wait any longer. Although, after this, who knows?”
“That’s seriously fucked.”
“Maybe he’s right, though. It will take a while for it to wear off, and maybe by then . . .”
She bit her thumbnail as she looked around the room. “Why did you say yes when Bill proposed?”
“Just wait until someone proposes to you,” I joked. “And he’s waiting there on his knee, and everyone is staring at you. It’s harrowing.” I laughed sadly, but she just pressed her lips together. “I’m teasing. I said yes because I loved him, and I had no doubt that he loved me.”
She exhaled loudly. “I think you owe it to yourself to give this some serious thought. Especially now that the clock is ticking. Even if you take David out of the equation, it sounds like you are having doubts about Bill.”
I am, I thought, but I couldn’t say it.
“I will support whatever you decide,” she said. “You are my oldest friend, and I love you.”
We hugged, and I told her I loved her too. “I should get back. Bill is probably waiting to talk.”
She nodded. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I decided to spring for a cab home. Having broken down barriers with Mack and Gretchen, I was beginning to feel more like my normal self again. David was done. Bill knew the truth. We could all finally move forward. The problem was, none of that made me feel better.
CHAPTER 22
THE APARTMENT WAS DARK when I got home. I switched on the kitchen light and started. Bill was leaning against a counter littered with empty beer bottles. “Bill?”
“Yeah.”
I set my purse down and removed my coat, staring at him as I tried to gauge his mood. I waited for him to speak.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked without looking at me.
“At Gretchen’s.”
“How do I know that?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I guess you have to believe me.”
He laughed softly and held out his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Give me your phone.”
“What? Bill ?
?? ”
“Give it to me.”
I dug into my purse and handed it over. I watched as he scrolled through it. “If you were with Gretchen, why did you call her half an hour ago?” he asked, holding up the screen to show me the call history.
“She thought she left her phone at work, so I called it. Ask her if you like.”
He set the phone down. “Who is he?”
I swallowed dryly and stared at my hands.
“Who?” he yelled, and I jumped.
I looked up. “David Dylan.”
He snapped his gaze to mine. “David . . . who? Andrew’s friend? The architect?”
“Yes,” I said, dropping my eyes back down.
“That could have been our future home.”
“What?”
“Oak Park. What if we had bought it? He would have been in our home, where our children live, where we have dinner every night. Where we make love,” he said through gritted teeth. “For God’s sake, what the hell were you thinking?”
“You’re right. You are absolutely right.”
“So everyone knows then?”
“No,” I insisted. “Lucy and Andrew knew nothing about this.”
“But Gretchen does.” He shook his head in reproach. “I always knew she was a bad influence on you. I should have put a stop to that.”
“She’s my oldest friend.”
“So the night that he helped you with Alvarez. Was that a cover-up?”
“Nothing happened that night.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“It was the next night.”
His face went blank. “Isn’t that the day Davena died?”
My voice broke. “Yes.”
“Huh. All this time I thought you were mourning. Unbelievable.”
“Of course I was mourning Davena. You know how close we were.”
“You let me believe,” he said over me, “for almost five months, that this was because of her death. You’re in the wrong profession, baby. You should be an actress.”
“This hasn’t been easy, trust me.”