“There’s money stuff with my dad, too.”
We’ve stopped walking at the spot where the Hudson walkway hits City Vineyard, a wine bar. To the left, a pier extends into the water; to the right, the pathway continues along up the river for miles and miles. We step to the left in unison, toward the empty pier. Will leans his body against mine as we make our way down to the end. The warm weight of him makes me feel small, and safe. It’s so nice to be walking together, out in the fresh air.
“Money stuff sounds … not good.”
“Nope.” My throat feels raw just thinking about the rest. But I think I need to say it out loud. To admit it to someone. Maybe the words won’t feel as heavy once they’re outside me. “And my dad’s been having an affair with his assistant,” I say. “And he lied about it to my face.”
Will frowns, but then his face softens.
“Okay …” he says finally.Lots of guys have affairs—that’s what he means.
“Also, he wanted a loan from my mom. That’s the money stuff. A loan for one of his movies, likea lotof money. And my mom said no.” I look at Will pointedly. “And now, he magicallyhasthe money.”
“Oh … wow,” he says, grimacing. “But that still doesn’t necessarily mean that …”
“I know. Notnecessarily.But it doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees as the wind picks up again, tossing his shaggy hair in front of his eyes.
“They definitely don’t think she just took off. Because of the”—I can’t get out the wordblood—“scene. Not that she would do that anyway. I don’t think.”
“A robbery maybe?”
“Nothing was stolen. And there were glasses, like she’d invited somebody in for a drink.”
“Somebody she knew?”
“I mean, somebody she knew enough to let inside. She was dating a bunch of random guys she met online,” I say. “So there are lots of possibilities.”
Will rests his forearms on the railing, turns to look at me. His bright eyes so filled with … love? Maybe. “If there’s anything I can do to help … And I mean that, really. Absolutely anything.”
I rest my hand on top of his. “I think maybe walking would be good?”
“Absolutely.” Will nods, looping his arm through mine, even though that’s the kind of thing we never do.
“I feel so guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“I knew about some of these things in my mom’s life,” I say. “I never bothered to ask about the details. Honestly, I’m not sure I really cared all that much. That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”
Will shrugs. “I think that makes you a person, with a mom. Mine died of cancer a few years ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
He nods. “Thanks … Anyway, for a long time, it seemed like she would be okay. And there was this one huge fight we got into, about me wearing muddy sneakers in the kitchen, of all dumb things. She was screaming at me, probably because she was stressed about her illness. I called her a bitch. Yelled it right in her face. That’s when she told me the cancer was back. That it had spread everywhere. She only had weeks left.”
“That’s awful.” I squeeze his arm.
“It was, and I felt so guilty for so long,” he says. “But she specifically told me before she died not to hold it against myself, that she understood I didn’t mean it. Your mom knows that, too.”
“I hope so.”
“If she’s anywhere near as thoughtful and generous as you, I’m sure of it.”
Back in my dorm later, I try to hold the memory of Will’s body against mine, my fingers tangled in his hair. For ninety whole minutes I didn’t worry about my mom, or my dad, or the police. Even as the glow is wearing off, I feel calmer, my head clearer.
I close my mom’s laptop and pick up my phone. It makes no sense that I haven’t heard back from Jules. Maybe she’s avoiding me; knows something she doesn’t want to share—something about my mom and that dating site maybe? In a way, Jules does know more about my mom’s life than any other person in the world—all that access to her messages, contacts, her schedule. My mom used to joke that it was like she was really married to Jules.
