A Winter Wedding

“If he’s that tough, he can take it.”


“He does his share of teasing in our group.” He tossed his keys on the counter. “So you ready for bed?”

She nodded.

He wanted to ask about Derrick, if something had happened while he was gone, but he hesitated to upset her, especially just before they finally got some sleep. “I’m glad tomorrow’s Sunday,” he muttered. All he had to worry about was dinner at his parents’...

“Since I came here, one day isn’t very different from the next for me,” she said.

“They will be once you’re working.”

“Right.” There didn’t seem to be much conviction in that word. But she didn’t argue with him. While he got a drink of water, she turned off the TV and started down the hall.

“Good night,” he called.

“Good night,” she called back. “I’m really glad your friend’s okay—and her baby, too.”

“Thanks.” By the time he put his glass in the sink and walked down the hall himself, her door was closed. But as he came nearer, she opened it.

“By the way, there won’t be any need to hire a private investigator to spy on Derrick, so don’t feel you have to find me one.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the opposite wall. “So what does that mean? He’s managed to convince you?”

“No.” She offered him a sad smile. “He admitted to the affair.”

Shocked, Kyle straightened. “I thought you said he’d never admit it.”

“I never dreamed he would.”

How had she gotten it out of him? He opened his mouth to ask, but she didn’t give him the chance. Slipping back into her room, she closed the door softly.

*

The following morning Kyle didn’t see Lourdes until it was almost time to leave for his parents’ house. And then she stumbled out, gripping her head as if she had a hangover, even though he didn’t think she’d been drinking last night. They were out of wine. The only alcohol in the house was some hard liquor pushed to the back of his cupboards; it hadn’t been used since Halloween, when he’d hosted the party he and his friends always had.

“You have a headache?” he guessed, muting his football game as she reached the kitchen.

She found her purse on the counter and began digging through it. “I think it’s a migraine.”

“Do you normally get migraines?”

“No. But it feels like my head’s about to explode, so it’s worse than the usual headache.” After swallowing some pills, she shuffled back down the hall.

He got up to go after her and knocked on the door she’d closed. “Can I make you some breakfast?” he called through the panel. “Maybe if you eat, you’ll feel better.”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I just need to sleep.”

He wondered if he should push her a little harder. Eating some healthy food would probably help. “You shouldn’t take painkiller on an empty stomach.”

When she didn’t respond, he went to the kitchen, scrambled some eggs and brought them, along with a piece of toast, to her door. “Lourdes?” he said as he knocked again.

Nothing.

“I’m coming in. Be prepared.”

She didn’t say he couldn’t, so he opened the door to find the room dark and smelling slightly of her perfume. She had the blinds down to keep out the sun, and all of her, except a bit of her hair, was buried beneath the blankets.

He carried the plate to her bedside. “Will you eat this?” he asked.

“Don’t try to help me,” she replied dully. “And don’t expect me to be too friendly. I need a couple of days to feel sorry for myself.”

“Feel sorry for yourself all you want. But do you have to starve while you do it? How’s deprivation going to improve things?”

Her phone started to buzz. He looked down at where it was lying on the nightstand, but she didn’t even stir. The caller was identified as “Asshole.”

“That must be Derrick,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

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