Come Alive (The Cityscape 2)

He seemed vastly pleased in turn. It was only once Bill fell asleep that I fretted, and as a result, I had barely slept. There was no more time. Bill had hit the end of his patience. It was time to grow up, forget David, and make the right decisions with Bill. I owed him so much more than I gave him and now, I would make it up to him by trusting in his version of us.

But there was something else to deal with first. Now, days after my confrontation with David, I sat staring at an e-mail that knotted my stomach.

From: David Dylan

Sent: Wed, October 03, 2012 02:26 PM CST

To: Olivia Germaine

Subject: Important

Olivia,

We need to talk. This isn’t over, and you know it. Come by my office when you get off today.

DAVID DYLAN

SENIOR ARCHITECT,

PIERSON/GREER

On the heels of his e-mail was a message from Bill, informing me that he would be by at five o’clock to pick me up from work. I sighed. I had things to do that would keep me well past five, but they would have to wait.

I began crafting a response to David when Serena popped her head in my office. “Hey, boss. Beman wants to see you.”

I ran my hand over my face in frustration.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” I chirped. “Just fine.”

When Beman had finished upbraiding me for one of Lisa’s errors, I stormed back to my office and shot off an e-mail to David.

From: Olivia Germaine

Sent: Wed, October 03, 2012 02:58 PM CST

To: David Dylan

Subject: Re: Important

David—

I can’t.

Olivia Germaine

Associate Editor,

Chicago Metropolitan Magazine

ChicagoMMag.com

His commanding tone both irked and flustered me, even over e-mail. I quickly scanned another e-mail from Bill, which ended by asking what I was making for dinner. I groaned, surrendering to the fact that there would be no peace today.

And about that, I was right. Hearing from David stuck with me all afternoon and hurtled me into an open state of brooding. I played Saturday night over and over until my hands shook as I edited copy. My mind wouldn’t let it rest. He wanted to talk. What was there to say? He said it wasn’t over – but didn’t he know that it was over before it had even begun?

I dreamed violently that night. Bill, David and Mark Alvarez each angrily demanded something from me. I had lied to them, they told me. I had made fools of them. I was the cancer in their lives. When Mark called me names, David and Bill somberly nodded their agreement.

I woke heavily at the edge of dawn, wishing I could sleep for days upon days. Grey clouds mirrored my unrest. I crawled out of the warm bed and slogged into the kitchen for coffee. I didn’t want to upset Bill again, so I decided to cover my foul mood with pancakes, prepared with equal parts guilt and love.

As planned, the pancakes diverted his attention. “This is a surprise,” he said excitedly. He sucked his teeth and rubbed his stomach. “This is exactly what I wanted, and I didn’t even know it. Such a good wife.”

I let him kiss me on the cheek as I stared at the griddle with my spatula cocked.

“It looks like rain,” he commented after retrieving the newspaper from the doorstep.

“Great,” I muttered and flipped one pancake after another. Flip, splat. Flip, splat. Flip, splat.

“Hopefully it won’t be too bad. I made an appointment with Jeanine on Saturday.”

I pushed a stray hair from my face with my f

orearm and turned to him. “What?”

“She has three different places to show us. Sounds optimistic, too.”

“Aren’t we supposed to see your sister?”

“On Sunday. It’ll be a productive weekend.”

“I wish you’d checked with me. I have plans with Lucy.”

“Priorities, honey. We’ve already rescheduled once, remember? If we’re going to start trying, we need to get going on the house. At this point, time is not on our side.”

I gulped audibly, and my shoulders sagged with the weight of the news. Had he not heard anything I’d said over the weekend? Couldn’t he see that I was already making my sacrifice by going off birth control? I needed time, not another excruciating car ride with Jeanine. “About that . . .”

“About what?” he challenged.

“Maybe it would be a good idea to get settled in a house before we start thinking about a baby.”

He resumed scanning the front page of the paper. “It takes some women months for birth control to wear off,” he said. “By that time, we could potentially be in a new place.”

I felt my throat closing. Months? “No,” I said. I struggled to get the words out. “No baby until we’ve found a home.”

He glanced up at me. I waited for him to react, uncertain of which way he would go, but he only gestured behind me. “Liv, the pancakes.”

Liv, the pancakes? LIV, THE PANCAKES? Are you completely fucking oblivious, Bill? He turned back to the Tribune. After a moment, he chuckled at the newspaper.

“I am not going off birth control.”

He licked his finger and flipped the page. “Hmm?”

“And I cheated on you.”

It took a moment until his head shot up, and he glared at me. “What did you just say?”

I actually felt my muscles liquefying as panic flooded my body. My eyes lowered and darted over the linoleum floor. The spontaneous confession hung in the air, thick and palpable between us.