“Did that happen?” he asked with a frown. “Did an old girlfriend reach out to you?”
He asked in a casual manner, so much so that it seemed calculated.
I shook my head. “No.”
He hesitated and then said, “If someone is bothering you, I’d be happy to have a word with them. It’s the last thing you need to worry about.”
“Honestly, it’s not serious.” I wanted nothing more than for this awkward exchange to be over.
“No deranged fans who watched Ali on TV?”
I forced a smile. “He did get some strange fan emails.”
“How did Ali land that gig anyway? I realize I never asked him. He was already a contributor to Channel Three when I started working at the firm.”
“They interviewed him once for a story they were doing about the April fifteenth tax deadline. They said he was a natural.”
“And he had a column on the station’s website.”
“Yes, people could ask questions there. He’d answer some of them on his semimonthly appearances on the five o’clock news.”
“Like I said before, he was a good guy,” Jake said. “It’s a real loss.”
“Thanks again for coming.” I was eager to end the conversation. I also wanted to be alone to look through Ali’s things.
“My pleasure. One more thing.”
“Yes?” I said, masking my impatience.
“I know Ali occasionally worked from home. His manager asked me to pick up any documents Ali might have left here.” He smiled apologetically. “I hate to bother you but—”
“It’s fine.” I cut him off. “I’ll look around and give you a call if I find any work-related papers.”
“Great. Thank you. And if you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
I made sure to lock the door after Jake left. Then I contemplated the box as I would an adversary. Going through Ali’s personal effects promised to be an emotional minefield. Who knew what I’d find that could set me off? But the answers I was looking for could be in that box.
What a lousy situation Ali left me in. Why had he hidden his purchase of Cozy Glenn Lane? My husband wasn’t an idiot. He was a careful, deliberate guy. If he really had something to hide, he wouldn’t have left a paper trail.
I took a breath and sat on the bottom step of the staircase. Pulling the box toward me, I tore the top open. Inside I found the detritus of a work life. Mundane yet completely personal. I pulled out certificates of completion for various professional development courses. Awards for successful projects. A small red stress ball with his company logo on it. There was no day planner or diary. No smoking gun. No references to Carol Darius or Cozy Glenn Lane.
But there were two pictures. One of Ayla and Adam at the pool many summers ago. Eyes squinting, cheeks red. They were about seven and five in the image. The other picture was of Ali and me on our honeymoon, tanned and relaxed, smiling and happy. Luminous in the way all young people are. The ache in my ribs intensified.
I longed to go back to that time.
Chapter Sixteen
Before
I was insecure at the start of our honeymoon in the Dominican Republic.
I’ve never been thin. My hips were round, and my stomach wasn’t flat no matter how much core work I suffered through.
I insisted on making love in the dark our first time. Not only because no other man had ever seen me naked, but mostly because I remembered how lean and physically fit Lizzie Martins looked wearing those snug hiking tights in that photo.
Not that Ali gave me any reason to feel insecure. He gave every indication of being into me and my body. I certainly appreciated his body. He worked out regularly, and it showed. I loved looking at his naked form and had plenty of opportunity to do so. He had no insecurities or inhibitions about being naked around me. I enjoyed the view.
Being a man of few words, Ali never said much about my physical appearance. But he could be counted on to give me an appreciative glance or murmur whenever he liked how I looked in a particular swimsuit or outfit. During our honeymoon, he sometimes tugged me back to bed after we’d dressed for dinner and were ready to go out.
