Eventually, when light began to filter through the shades, I sat up.
David sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We have to go if we’re going to make our flight.”
While he showered, I knotted my tangled and unruly hair back and brushed my teeth. With puffy eyes, a red nose, and an empty gaze, I fleetingly thought . . .
This is exactly how I imagined I would look at the end.
28
David and I returned to a snowy Chicago. The stark contrast from Miami wasn’t only apparent in the weather. David and I had traveled in relative silence. He’d been attentive as always, making sure I’d been comfortable during the flight, but I could tell he’d been deep in thought. I, on the other hand, finally had nothing left to think about.
Fortunately, I’d taken the day off, but David had booked us an early flight so he could go in to work. After putting me in a cab with our luggage, David had gone straight from the airport to his office.
I spent the day in the den, watching movies in the dark, because the alternative was worrying myself sick. I hated being in limbo, not knowing what David would decide. I couldn’t envision anything beyond the end of us. David was right—Ididsee him in my future, and I’d seen him in that house. So didn’t that mean something?
My anxiety heightened when the third movie ended, and I realized it was nearing ten o’clock at night. My phone had been quiet. I picked it up from the coffee table and checked my inbox. A subject line jumped out at me.
Re: Hi
Lucy had responded to my last e-mail.
I’d been much more optimistic when I’d written to her. Now, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to hear anything but encouragement, and I wasn’t sure I’d find that in her response. I put the phone back down.
I’d just started another movie when I heard a noise. I immediately hitPauseand looked up from the couch to see David in the doorway. “You’re home,” I said dumbly.
He nodded, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets.
“It’s late,” I added, noting his tousled hair, the same foreboding black of his loosened tie.
“I was out looking for something,” was all he said.
I understood. He’d been searching for answers all day, and I’d been here, numbing myself with nothingness and not making plans or decisions as I should’ve been. I hoped David would find his answers soon, because it killed me to see him this way.
“I’m exhausted,” he said.
I reached for the remote, shut off the TV, and went to stand. “Let’s go to bed.”
“No.”
I paused at the edge in his tone. Without the TV glare, the only light in the room came from the doorway behind him, turning him into a silhouette. I sank back into the couch. “Okay.”
“I fired Arnaud.”
“What?” I widened my eyes. “How come?”
“I found him in his office, door closed, with the new receptionist. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but after Clare’s allegations, I wasn’t taking any chances.”
I braced myself. As much as I disliked Arnaud, I didn’t want the sexual harassment claims to be true. I hated picturing Clare, the new receptionist, and however many others in that position. “Did you walk in on something?”
“Not exactly. They were sitting on the couch. Again—any other day, I wouldn’t have noticed. But this time, I looked at her, and she seemed scared. I pulled her out and asked if anything had happened.” David paused, and even in the semi-dark, I could sense his jaw clench and unclench. “Arnaud had tried to touch her a few times, and warned if she kept denying him, he’d find another secretary who wouldn’t.”
“Oh, God,” I said, sick to my stomach for them. “I’m so sorry. Did you confront him?”
“Obviously. He denied everything. But after what you said about not wanting to be alone with him, I pushed. It took some, ah . . .pressure—but eventually, he admitted to it. Clare, and the girl before her, too.”
With a small gasp, tears pricked my eyes.That piece of shit. The first time I’d met him, I’dknownsomething was off. “I should’ve said something sooner.”
“It’s my fault,” he said.
