“I guess so,” she says, but there’s no confidence in her voice. “But a lot of women stay, for their kids’ sake, and he promised to give her up . . .”
It’s Melissa’s voice but her mother’s ideas, and now I’m furious at Mrs. Lawrence as well as at Troy. “But what sort of message would that send your daughter? Or your son?”
“I wasn’t planning to tell them Troy cheated,” she says dryly.
“No, but chances are they’ll find out eventually. And then they’d know you stayed with a man who didn’t respect you enough to be faithful.”
“I guess.”
“This way, even if your kids never find out what happened, they’ll know their mom was strong enough to stand up for herself. They’ll sense it, even if they don’t know why.”
“You think?”
“I know. You’re too good for him, Melissa. Always were.”
“Thanks, Luke,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say gruffly. “What are you up to?”
“I’m in bed, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“Ah,” I say inarticulately. My first instinct is to ask her what she’s wearing, but I bite it back. I picture her in a T-shirt and panties, which is what she used to sleep in when we were together.
“Liam’s usually up by six, so by ten o’clock, I’m about done,” she continues.
“Right. You think you’ll be able to sleep now?”
She sighs. “Probably. Thanks, Luke.”
“Do you want me to read to you again? We didn’t finish the book the other night.”
“The duke one?” she asks with a chuckle. “You still have it?”
“Sure. I told you, Milly, it’s a classic.” I brought it home with me after that night in the call room, and it’s hidden in the back of my bedroom closet.
“Have you been reading it without me?” she teases.
“Of course not. I’ve been waiting for you.” I walk across my condo to get the book. “Put your phone on speaker, and set a sleep timer.”
“Okay. But Luke, I’m sure you have other things to do?—”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
I put my phone on speaker and set it on the couch next to me, then open the book and flip to a chapter that looks promising.
“The duke galloped across the meadow?—”
“Did the duke really gallop?” Melissa interrupts. “Or did his horse gallop?”
“If you’d let me finish the sentence, Milly, it might become clear.” I clear my throat. “The duke galloped across the meadow on his majestic black stallion, toward the stream where Prudence was swimming. As he reined inhis horse and dismounted, he realized she was wearing nothing but her petticoat.”
“You skipped to a sex scene, didn’t you?” Melissa interrupts.
“Of course not,” I say, with feigned indignation. It’s a lie, because I absolutely did. There’s something erotic about reading a sex scene aloud to Melissa, even a completely ridiculous one. It’s as far as I can go and still convince myself I’m not crossing a line.
I’m not having an inappropriate relationship with a patient’s mother. I’m just reading her a little historical fiction to help her fall asleep.
