“Well, that was worth an extra hour on the treadmill, right?” Gretchen asked her empty plate and covered her tummy with her hand.
I was full, too. It didn’t take much these days.
I’d told David I was empty inside, but I couldn’t have known how wrong that was. For one stolen moment, he’d filled me with himself, physically and emotionally. In his absence, the void in me had expanded.NowI was empty. Now I was poisoned.
2
Davena’s funeral had been like every other funeral before it. I’d sat in a pew, staring forward as Bill had clasped my hand in his. At some point I’d looked over to find him in tears, but with my hands lifeless in my lap, and with no words, I’d just returned my eyes to the front. My only moment of reality had been when Mack—Davena’s husband and my godfather—had hugged me. He’d squeezed the breath from my lungs, holding me too tightly. And when he’d let go, I’d felt nothing again.
She’d been predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life nor in death. I’d wondered how she hadn’t even looked vulnerable in that position; I wouldn’t have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she’d invited me to Sunda for a cocktail.
But she hadn’t. And eventually they’d eased the coffin closed and taken her away. Back at their place, Mack had done his best to turn the reception into a celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes had been searing. Unavoidable, even when I’d looked away. The kind of bottomless void only the loss of a soulmate could inspire.
We’d left early.
Although my belief in the afterlife was dubious, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything—that I was a sinner, an adulterer, and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.
“Did you look at the article yet?” Lisa, my toxic co-worker, glared at me from the doorway of my office, arms crossed, lips drawn.
Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back to reality. Otherwise known as a workweek morning. “Which one?”
She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”
“It’s on your desk already,” I said.
“Oh.” Lisa pivoted and stalked away, revealing my assistant behind her, who sported shorter, blonder hair than she’d had yesterday.
“Lisa’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a comforting smile. “And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . you get the idea.”
“Where’d your hair go?” I asked about her pink-tipped blonde bob.
“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut.” Serena ran a hand through the short strands. “What do you think?”
“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.
“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”
I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me “boss” since her recent promotion from intern to assistant editor.
“The wedding?” she prompted. “Are you looking forward to it?”
I nodded. “Lucy’s been daydreaming about this for as long as I’ve known her. Even though she had to pull the wedding together quickly, I have no doubt it’ll be impressive.”
“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just, like, so happy to be there.” Serena sighed wistfully. “And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean—”
“Serena,” I said, rubbing my brow, “I’m really swamped here.”
“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.
“It’s about the ‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes’ issue—”
I froze mid-keystroke. “What?”
“Well, um—I was thinking we could do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m sure the people we featured, like, went on dates and stuff.” Serena’s tone faltered as I stared at her. “Maybe some of them even found relationships because of the article. We could even do a teeny-tiny column in the mag next month catching up with—”
“No, that won’t work.” I shook my head rapidly. “Let’s try to come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”
