Trying not to think, not to feel anything, I take a duffle bag from the back of the closet and throw in a few changes of clothes and underwear. I open the bathroom door, refusing to look toward the shower where I know I’ll see Dean’s body outlined against the fogged glass. I toss a few other toiletries into the duffle and hurry to the kitchen.
Halfway out the door, I remember that my car is very low on gas. The shower is still running when I toss my key-ring on the counter, grab Dean’s car keys, and leave our apartment.
Thank God there is a light on in Kelsey’s house. I tried to call her on my cell phone first, but her machine picked up. I didn’t think I could explain without bursting into tears again, so I just drove over. I grab my bag and head up the steps to her tidy bungalow nestled on a quiet street called Mousehole Lane.
Shivering, I ring the bell and wait. She pulls open the door.
“Liv? What are you doing here?”
“Sorry, Kels, I tried to call.” Part of me notices that she’s wearing some expensive silk pants and a flowy tunic kind of thing.
She looks at my duffle bag and frowns. I don’t have to say anything else. At least, not now. She knows.
“Get in here.” She gestures me into the foyer.
I drop my bag on the floor and unbutton my coat, then stop. I sniff. “Is that incense?”
To my shock—and unexpected but welcome amusement—Kelsey actually flushes a little. I peer around her shoulder at the living room, where the lights are low and several sticks of incense glow in a special holder. Classical music drifts from the speakers. Then I see a guy sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine in his hand.
I duck back into the foyer and whisper, “Oh shit, Kelsey, I’m sorry. You’re on a date.”
She waves her hand in dismissal. “Never mind. He’s been after me for months. He can wait a little longer.”
“I’m not going to ruin your evening.” I reach for the door handle, but she snaps the lock shut and gives me a stern look.
“No, you are not,” she replies, then grabs my arm and marches me into the kitchen. “But you are going to tell me what the hell happened. Wait here.”
She shoves me onto a barstool at the counter and disappears into the living room. The front door closes. When she returns, she’s carrying two glasses of wine.
“What about your date?” I ask.
“I sent him home. I’ll deal with him later.” She deposits a glass of wine in front of me. “Now talk.”
I can’t talk because the tears are choking my throat again. I swallow some wine. “You first. Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date tonight?”
“His name is Adam, he’s an engineer at SciTech, and we met when I went over to talk to them about a new computer modeling program. He’s totally not my type, but like I said, the guy’s persistent so finally I agreed to give him a chance. And he did bring good wine.”
She takes a sip and nods in approval.
“Why is he not your type?” I ask.
“Oh, you know.” She waves a hand like she’s swatting at a fly. “Conservative, conventional. But this is not about—”
She stops as a loud banging rattles the front door.
“And here comes the Incredible Hunk.” Kelsey rolls her eyes and indicates I should stay seated as she slides off the stool. “He sounds pissed.”
Although I feel like a coward for letting her contend with Dean alone, I know she can handle him better than I can right now. His angry voice comes through the door, which I assume Kelsey has wisely not opened with the expectation that he would crash through.
My cell phone rings. I don’t answer it. The front door bangs again, hard enough to shake the hinges. I gather a breath and go to the foyer, where Kelsey is standing with one hand on the doorknob and the other on her hip.
“Let him in, Kelsey, or your neighbors are going to call the police.”
“I’m not letting him in.” She holds out her hand. “Give me your cell.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and give it to her. She dials a number and waits, tapping her foot impatiently. The thumping on the door stops.
“Dean, shut the fuck up, okay?” Kelsey snaps into the phone. “I’m not letting you in. Liv is here, she’s safe, and you both need to cool down before you talk. Got it? So quit banging on my goddamn door like you’re storming a castle. Go home, take a cold shower, have a drink, and call Liv tomorrow.”
I can hear Dean’s angry voice through the phone, but can’t make out what he’s saying.
Kelsey gives a long-suffering sigh. “Dean, I’m not unlocking the door. Liv doesn’t want to talk to you right now. And if you don’t leave her alone, I’ll call the cops. Don’t think I won’t. How do you think the university will react when they hear that distinguished Professor West was arrested for acting like an ass?”
He’s still yelling at her, but Kelsey ends the call and hands me the phone. “Keep it off. Let him yell at voicemail.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me back to the kitchen. We both wait a few minutes, but there’s no more noise. Kelsey pushes my wineglass back in front of me as we sit down at the counter again.
“God, now we all need a drink,” she mutters, downing half her wine in one swallow. “How’d he know you were here?”