“You know I did. But I also deliberately fostered the impression that we might be more, for the sake of the press and the police. I sent her mixed signals. That’s what I feel guilty about.”
“Well, stop. That bitch tried to make me think you’d banged her”—I wiggled two fingers—“twice. And the first time she did, it hurt so bad I’m still getting over it. Plus she’s married, for fuck’s sake. She’s got no business making moves on my man when she’s got her own.”
“Back up to the part about banging her. What are you talking about?”
I explained the incidents—the lipstick-on-the-cuff disaster at the Crossfire and my impromptu visit to Corinne’s apartment, when she’d tried to play it like she’d just got done screwing him.
“Well, that changes things considerably,” he said. “There’s nothing more she and I need to say to each other.”
“Thank you.”
He reached over to tuck my hair behind my ear. “We’ll eventually be on the other side of all this.”
“Whatever will we do with ourselves then?” I muttered.
“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.”
“Sex, right?” I shook my head. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Don’t forget work—together.”
“Oh my God. You don’t quit.”
He crunched on a chip and swallowed. “I want you to see the revamped Crossroads and Cross Industries websites when we’re done with lunch.”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Really? That was fast. I’m impressed.”
“Let’s have you look at them first before you decide that.”
GIDEON knew me well. Work was my escape and he put me to it. He set me up with his laptop in the living room, made my phone stop ringing, then went into his office to call my mother.
For the first few minutes after he’d left me alone, I listened to the low murmur of his voice and tried to focus on the websites he’d pulled up for me, but it was no use. I was too scattered to pay attention. I ended up calling Cary instead.
“Where the fuck are you?” he barked by way of greeting.
“I know it’s been crazy,” I said quickly, having no doubt my mother and father would’ve been calling the apartment Cary and I shared when I didn’t answer my smartphone. “I’m sorry.”
The background noise on Cary’s end told me he was somewhere out on the streets.
“Mind telling me what’s going on? Everyone’s calling me—your parents, Stanton, Clancy. They’re all looking for you and you’re not answering your cell. I’ve been freaking out wondering what happened to you!”
Crap. I closed my eyes. “My dad found out about Nathan.”
He was silent, the sounds of distant traffic and honking the only indication he was still on the line. Then, “Holy shit. Oh, baby girl. That’s bad.”
The compassion in his voice made my throat too tight to speak. I didn’t want to cry any more.
The background noise suddenly muted, as if he’d stepped into someplace quiet. “How is he?” Cary asked.
“He’s torn up. God, Cary, it was awful. I think he was crying. And he’s furious with Mom. That’s probably why she’s calling so much.”
“What’s he going to do?”
“He’s flying out to New York. I don’t know when, but he said he’d be calling when he landed.”
“He’s flying out now? Like today?”
“I think so,” I said miserably. “I’m not sure how he’s managing to get time off work again so soon.”
“I’ll fix up the guest room when I get home, if you haven’t done it already.”
“I’ll take care of it. Where are you?”
“Catching lunch and a matinee with Tatiana. I had to get out for a while.”
“I’m so sorry you’ve been fielding my calls.”
“Not a big deal,” he dismissed, in his usual Cary way. “I was more worried than anything. You haven’t been around much lately. I don’t know what you’re doing or who you’re doing. You’re not acting like yourself.”
The note of accusation in his tone deepened my remorse, but there was nothing I could share. “I’m sorry.”
He waited, as if for an explanation, then said something under his breath. “I’ll be home in a couple hours.”