Katie
Present Day
The Hamptons
In Montauk, it could not have been sunnier. A few minutes after six, and still, daylight poured through the open slider off Danny’s bedroom, swirling with the vapor of his just-finished shower and bouncing off the mirror I’d been standing in front of for half an hour, trying to decide what to wear. I’d settled, ultimately, on the simplest thing I’d packed: a pale blue slip dress classic enough for dinner with Meredith but with a short enough hem that I still felt like myself. I smoothed out a crease, then moved on to running a curling wand through my hair.
“I still don’t get why we’re doing this,” Danny said, sitting at the foot of his bed as I released a wave. Steam billowed, and through the mirror, I watched as he yanked on his khakis. “I mean, isn’t she a known recluse? I googled her. Nobody’s seen her in years.”
“I guess so, yeah. But it was her idea and everything. She’s working on this new project and... I don’t know, actually. I don’t know the whole story. It’s not really something we’re allowed to ask. Maybe all the rumors are made up. Maybe she’s been out and about the whole time, and nobody’s ever noticed.”
He shrugged, then slipped on his loafers and tugged the strap of my dress. “Well, whatever. Come on. We’re going to be late.”
We sat in the restaurant’s courtyard: a sea of crisp white tablecloths and flickering tea candles braided beneath a canopy of dense bougainvillea. String lights threaded the remaining slivers of shimmering evening sky. Waiters wandered, and glasses clinked. Laughter flowed, and a warm breeze blew. Each and every table was full.
There was only one problem. It was nearly eight, and there was no sign of Meredith or Tyler. Yesterday afternoon, following a nearly silent two-hour bike ride back to the house, Tyler and I had parted ways as colleagues. He’d held the gate open for me, and I said, barely looking up, “I’ll see you at dinner,” and he said, fussing with his watch, “See you then,” and that was that. But now, he wasn’t picking up his phone or the landline in Meredith’s kitchen either.
“How does your boss not have a cell phone?” Danny said, flipping through the wine list. He’d been rambling about some white he’d had at his firm’s holiday party last year. “It’s insane enough that she doesn’t have internet, but no phone? How is that even possible?”
I shrugged. “I told you—Meredith is a little old-fashioned. She just likes things the way they used to be. That’s all.”
Danny lifted his eyes from the menu. “Yeah, no. Sorry, babe. That woman’s certifiable.”
Something I did not care for—a yank, a reflex—tugged below my ribs.
“I like her,” I said.
“You like her house, Katie. That’s not the same thing.”
I poked at the candle, clamping my jaw as the scorching wax softened around my numbing fingertip. That tug in my stomach had traveled to my face, and this was the only way to keep it from spreading to the corners of my mouth. Danny finally ordered that bottle of wine, and the waiter, a few minutes later, poured four glasses. I hesitated, tracing away the condensation, trying to keep my eyes and ears on Danny and his additional thoughts on the 2007 we were sipping. Trying to stop myself from checking the entrance to the courtyard or scanning the screen of my phone. After all, I’d made my decision. This dinner, it was nothing. It was purely business. And yet, I had this sinking feeling in my stomach that Tyler would not show.
Twenty minutes later, Tyler—hair combed, dark jeans on, button-down I did not know he owned rolled up to his elbows—wandered onto the patio, scratching his neck, searching the space, thanking the hostess and then heading our way.
“Meredith’s not feeling well,” he said. “I tried to convince her, but...”
I swallowed, nodding softly. Meredith’s drinking was obviously a problem. But she was a full-grown woman. She didn’t drive. She didn’t leave the stove on. She wasn’t caring for a child or performing open-heart surgery or in charge of the nuclear codes.
“Oh, wow. Okay.”
Danny mouthed the wordcertifiableto me. I glared at him, and he took a long sip of his wine, still smirking. Tyler’s mouth twitched.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I said, pretending that forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t wrapped his hand around mine. Hadn’tignited something inside of me I still did not know how to make go away. “From the house line?”
“It was this whole thing, getting out the door. By the time she’d finally gotten herself on the couch, I was already late. She was really upset—gave me her credit card so she could pay and all that. I didn’t even realize I’d left my phone in the kitchen until I was checking to see if I had service, and it was almost eight by then, and...”
I nodded. Tyler fiddled with the button on his cuff.
“Anyway, I’ll go,” he said. “I just didn’t want to leave you hanging.”
There it was again. That scraping in my stomach. “Oh, okay. Sure. I’ll see you Monday.”
Tyler itched his collar, then extended his hand to Danny, who did not reciprocate. Instead, he nodded toward the empty chair beside me.
“Have a seat, man. It’s cool.”
“That’s all right. I’ll—”
“Come on,” Danny said. “We barely had a chance to talk at the game last month, and that was before you started living with my girlfriend.”
