But then he glances past me and his expression morphs into one of pure horror. I watch, confused, as he slowly straightens, sitting back in his chair and slipping his hand from my reach, leaving me wanting.
I look up as a woman arrives at our table. She’s in her mid-to-late fifties, blond, attractive, and well-dressed, with light blue eyes. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, her facial features taut with distress.
“Is this why you haven’t visited as much lately?” she asks Anders, jerking her chin at me.
“Kelly—” he starts to say, shaking his head.
“In sickness and in health!” she hisses, and he visibly recoils. “You swore it, Anders!” She stares down at me, and I balk at the ferocity in her blue eyes. “And you’re okay with it, are you?”
“Please, Kelly,” Anders begs. “She doesn’t know.”
“Know what?” I ask.
“That he’s married!” Kelly cries with disbelief. “He’smarried! To my daughter,Laurie!”
A cold sweat breaks out over my skin. Anders has gone gray.
“I thought Laurie died in a go-karting accident.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.
“No. My daughter, hiswife,” Kelly says, nodding pointedly at the man opposite me, “is very much alive.” She shakes her head at him damningly, and then her blue eyes begin to water.
“I will call you tomorrow,” Anders promises her quietly as he pushes his chair out from the table and stands up. He lays his hand on her arm, but she shakes him off and his jaw ticks as he gets out his wallet and places some notes on the table. “Wren, we should go,” he prompts.
I push my own chair out and stand up, my legs feeling unsteady.
What the fuck is going on?
“I am so disappointed in you,” Kelly says to Anders as he passes.
He flinches as he guides me out through the bar.
33
What just happened?” I ask as soon as we’re outside.
“Let’s talk when we’re back at my apartment.”
“Anders? Is Laurie still alive? Are you married?”
“Please, Wren, I’ll explain at home.”
“Is she in a coma or something?Anders?”
“Please,” he begs, casting me such a devastated look that my mouth abruptly closes.
It’s the longest five-minute journey of my life. Thoughts and questions are attacking the walls of my brain, desperate to be heard. I’m shivering even though it’s balmy, and beside me, Anders is pale and silent, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.
He unlocks his apartment and nods, stoically, toward the living room. I feel nauseous as I make my way to his sofa and sit down.
Anders pushes his coffee table out of the way and swings a chair into its place, sitting down directly in front of me. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them as he stares at me directly.
“Laurie is alive,” he tells me unwaveringly, and I think I die a little myself, right then and there in front of him.
“And you’re still married to her?”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me,” I whisper with horror as pain lances my heart.
