“No. He did ask if I wanted to grab a bite to eat, to which I said no, but there was nothing flirtatious about his behavior. In fact, if anything . . .”
And for the first time since that evening, a thought returns to me, like a muscle memory.
“What?”
“If anything, he seemed preoccupied, like there was something on his mind.”
“Maybe he was trying to find the nerve to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I ask. It’s as if she’s had a glimpse of the final scene in my nightmare.
“I mean, let you know of his attraction. Make a move.”
Despite the fact that Casey and I aren’t face-to-face, I find myself shaking my head vigorously.
“I doubt it. And it’s really beside the point because nothing happened between us. I can’t bear that Stephanie thinks we might have been sleeping together.”
“Okay, as we’re talking, I’m deciding we should probably take action. It used to be that the best approach with a rumor was to let it run out of oxygen. But things are different now because of crap like social media, and we don’t want this one gathering steam, especially since there’s not a shred of truth to it. Let me come up with a strategy, okay?”
“Yup. Can you let me know as soon as you do?”
“Absolutely, and don’t worry. We’ll take care of this.”
I hang up, shaken. And I can’t miss the ugly irony of what Casey has divulged. I’m not the only one who’s been agonizing about her husband’s fidelity quotient. Not wanting any more time to pass before I jot down the dream, I retrieve my notebook from the screened porch and quickly make a note of this new detail.
It’s not merely the dream that has my insides churning. It’s that vague feeling I’ve recalled from the night of my speech, my sense that it was strange for Paul to drop by unannounced. Plus, my memory of him seeming distracted. Casey’s remark replays in my mind, the one suggesting that Paul might have been summoning the nerve to come on to me. But that doesn’t gel with what I knew about the guy. If anything, he seemed like a straight arrow, a man with a strong moral compass. When I’d asked him about his family at the lunch we had alone, he practically beamed as he described Stephanie and their two young boys.
Maybe there’d been a professional concern on his mind. Or even a personal one. Since Twenty Choices was published, more than a few friends and colleagues have taken me aside and asked for guidance on a confusing or daunting choice presenting itself in their life.
Regardless of what Paul’s true intentions were, I need Casey to kill the rumor. For Stephanie’s sake as well as my own.
I close the notebook and carry it with me back upstairs, where I tuck it into the drawer of my bedside table. I probably should tell Guy about this development, but I have to find the right time.
It’s after five. I shower for the second time today, still feeling sweaty from the sex. The night is warm, so I pick a sleeveless black dress for the evening, along with a pair of strappy sandals, the kind of dressy look I haven’t worn since before the accident.
As I’m dabbing on makeup in front of the bathroom mirror, I’m struck by the fact that I look less weary today, less like an orphan-train girl. And I feel less weary, too. I’m glad we’re going out. I have my ulterior motives for wanting to be with Nick and Kim, but it’s more than that. This will give me a chance to be supportive of Guy and to bolster his efforts at work.
Guy texts me to say he doesn’t need to change for dinner and will swing by and pick me up at seven, as planned. When I hop into his BMW an hour later, he’s taken off his tie and jacket and laid them across the backseat.
“I figured I’d kill the jacket since Nick mentioned he’ll be dressed casually,” he says by way of explanation. “He was playing golf at the club this afternoon.”
“I thought he had a really demanding job.”
“He’s got a big job in a business inherited from his father, with a lot of people reporting to him, though I’m not sure how demanding it is.” He smiles wryly. “I have the feeling he hands off a lot and stays way above the fray.”
“Should I have worn a Banlon golf shirt instead?”
He’s pulled out of the driveway by now and glances over, taking me in fully.
“You look perfect, Bryn. Besides, I can’t imagine Kim dressing casually. I get the sense from Nick that she’s pretty high-maintenance.”
“Does that work his nerves?”
“Not sure. He let it slip recently that she’s wife number two, and maybe he wanted high-maintenance this time around. Some guys secretly dig that.”