“It was a total nightmare, with me in this horrible catch-22. At first, I wasn’t overly concerned because I was sure an investigation would prove I was innocent, but she—this woman—had planted things to implicate me. I hired a lawyer after they let me go, but it was evident that if I sued, it would cost a fortune. Plus, everything would become public that way. In the end, the only viable option, if I wanted to salvage one ounce of my reputation, was to get the hell out of Texas.”
Is it possible that he’s telling the truth? That this woman—he must be talking about Gavin Bloom’s wife—actually conspired against him? Should I believe a stranger more than my husband?
“So you weren't in Miami all the time you said you were?”
“No. I wasn’t straight with you about the time line. I was in Dallas part of that time and moved to Miami from there, not Chicago.”
My eyes drift away as I try to weigh the veracity of his words.
“Bryn,” he says when I don’t reply. “I have no clue who’s feeding you all this information, but you have to believe me. And you have to try to see it from my perspective. I was always terrified that if I told you, you’d reject me, which is exactly what’s happening now.”
I pull my lightweight anorak tighter against the chill of the day.
My thoughts are in a total jumble. Should I believe him? Should I try to see the Dallas omission from his vantage point, a part of the past he didn’t know how to share? Should I ask for proof, demand to speak to the lawyer? My doubts about Guy wrestle with my need to right my world again, to have my life return to normal.
“What else have you left out, Guy?”
“Nothing, I swear.” He reaches out and lays one of his hands over mine. “Please try to understand. I can’t let this come between us.”
There’s another question still, one I’ve almost forgotten to ask.
“You moved to Texas directly from Chicago?” I say.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Why suddenly start using your middle name? You’d never gone by Richard before.”
His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and his lips part. I sense his mind racing, and I realize he’s searching for an answer. An answer that will work better than the truth.
Chapter 22
So there was trouble before Dallas, a reason for a name change. I wonder if he was caught embezzling in Chicago, too, and that’s why he hightailed it to Dallas. I can’t let myself hope any longer that Bloom is wrong, that Guy’s simply a liar. He’s a thief. And maybe more.
“There’s an explanation for that,” Guy says after a moment.
Of course there is. He’s got an explanation for everything.
I stare at him, baffled, wondering how only weeks ago the same eyes and hair and navy barn jacket—it’s the one he wore last fall on a weekend trip we took to the Adirondacks, where we lay naked in each other’s arms at night while listening to the eerie, wolflike call of a loon on the lake outside our window—once added up to be someone entirely different.
He mistakes the intensity in my expression for eagerness to hear his explanation.
“After I was hired for the Dallas position, the board chairmen mentioned that someone in the organization had a name similar to mine—Guy Carris—and that there might be a bit of confusion at first. The last thing I needed was having someone on my staff getting emails and memos meant for me, that sort of thing—so I decided I’d go by my middle name instead at work.”
I nearly scoff at the ridiculousness of his explanation, though maybe he should be awarded a few points for manufacturing it out of thin air, and in record time.
“You’re saying if I were to call Dallas Gives, announce I was thinking of hiring Guy Carris and ask them to confirm that he’d worked for the organization, they’d know who I was talking about?”
He opens his mouth and I sense he’s about to tell me, Of course, go ahead and make the call, but he pauses, and in his eyes I spot the first flicker of indignation.
“Why are you doing this to me, Bryn?” he demands instead.
“Why am I doing it to you?”
“I explained why I wasn’t forthcoming about Dallas. I thought you’d be more sympathetic.”
“Sympathetic to the fact that you’ve deceived me about a huge chunk of your life?”
“I’ve been nothing but a great partner to you. I helped you through the god-awful mess you’ve been in since March, as well as this god-awful mess you initiated by going down to Eve Blazer’s and demanding your twenties back.”
I can’t miss the disdain in his tone. And I can’t believe he’s claiming I’m responsible for the nightmare with the cops. Even if I’d never confronted Eve, the cops would have stumbled upon Guy’s texts to her and we’d be in the exact same boat. Though part of me wants to press him about Eve, I don’t dare. I don’t want him to suspect my fears about the night she died.
“I should go,” I say. The light wind that’s been blowing picks up, sending an empty water bottle spiraling down the path in front of us.
“Go? Bryn, we have to hash this out. And I need to come home. I’m done being banished to that two-by-four apartment.”
“There’s nothing to hash out, Guy. Or Richard, or whoever you are. As for the house, it’s all yours now.”
“You’re planning to leave?”
I rise from the bench and pull my anorak tighter. “I already have.”