11
Burgundy leather and dark wood made up Bill’s office at the law firm, and it smelled intentionally rich. Sturdy, essential-looking volumes lined the room like wallpaper. It had been a couple nights since my dinner with Gretchen, and I hadn’t seen much of Bill that week because of a big case. Knowing he was in for another late night, I’d decided to surprise him.
“This is a treat.” Bill rounded the mahogany desk to embrace me. “Everything okay?”
“Yep.” I set my purse on a couch on the other side of his office. “I haven’t been here in a while, so I thought I’d make sure you’ve still got my photo up.”
He plucked a frame from his desk and showed it to me—a picture from the one time I’d agreed to go on the fishing boat. We smiled from behind sunglasses and goofy hats.
“Great,” I said, mock turning to leave. “So I’ll stop by again next year.”
“Har-har.” He pulled me back into his arms. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I have something to tell you.”
“Okay,” I prompted.
“I just heard back from Jeanine about the house. We didn’t get it.”
The air in the office stilled. Twin slivers of relief and disappointment worked through me. We weren’t moving to the suburbs. Not yet. But we would. And if we had to, I’d wanted it to be that house. “Oh,” I said with an exhalation. “Why not?”
Bill shook his head as defeat crossed his face. “She didn’t say, but she’s going to find out and get back to us.”
“Well, that sucks,” I said.
“Yeah, it does,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”
I looked down at his arms around me. “It’s not your fault. You were so sweet to go through the trouble. Thank you.”
For some reason, the tense way he rubbed his eyes made me feel overwhelmingly guilty. I’d spent late nights trying not to wish that life away, and maybe on some level, I had willed it. Was thismyfault?
“I know we’ll find something else,” he said. “I’m just so tired of this whole process.”
“Maybe we should take a break for a while,” I suggested.
“No, I don’t want to do that.” He paused for a deep sigh. “How was your day?”
“It was all right. I missed you.”
He smiled. “Me too. Speaking of fishing,” he said, gesturing to the photograph behind him, “Hugh and the guys invited us on the boat next weekend. Interested?”
“That’s the night Gretchen invited us to the hotel party,” I said. “I mentioned it a couple days ago.”
“Oh. I don’t remember that. I’ll tell them no.”
Passing up a weekend doing what he loved for a social event he’dhate? I jumped at the chance to ease my guilt and take his mind off losing the house. “No, it’s okay,” I said. “You should go with Hugh.”
“Without you?”
“I won’t be any fun without Lucy, and she’ll still be on her honeymoon.”
“True,” he said, cocking his head. “What about the party?”
“Well, maybe I’ll go with Gretchen and Greg. Gosh, that’ssoweird to say. I still can’t believe they’re back together.”
“Which one is Greg?” Bill asked.
“Honey, seriously? I also told you this the other night. Greg, from college. The one who ditched Gretchen to move to Japan.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind with work and the house.” He shrugged. “That’s exciting, I guess.”
