Come Undone (23 page)

“Hi.”
Lucy looked up from her book.

“Hey,”
I said, putting a pot of water on the stove.

“How
do you feel?”

“Been
better. But the drugs help. Want some tea?”

“Sure.”

The
hot mug was as comforting against my cold hands as the peppermint was soothing.
“What’d I miss?”

“Well,
they’d caught a couple last time I spoke to Andrew. Salmon I think? Whatever. I
just talked to Gretchen, too. She’s hungover and still in bed watching a
Friends
marathon,” Lucy said with an eye
roll.

“Ha.
What did she do last night?”

“Went
to some big museum party. For work, I think.”

My
ears perked up. “Oh? Where?”

“I
don’t know,” she shrugged. “She said Kristen Chenoweth and Derrick Rose were
there, and that she has juicy gossip, but wants to tell us in person. Someone
she met and hooked up with – oh, it was the Museum of Contemporary Art.
Yes, that was it.”

I
forced a sound of comprehension, but inside I saw red.
What are the chances?
I asked myself.
There must’ve been hundreds of people there. Did Gretchen and David . .
. ? Would he do that to send a message? Or worse, would he do that because he
just didn’t care anymore?

I
gritted my teeth. I thought again about what perfect a couple they’d make
– his masculine roguishness and her small, petite frame drowning in
blonde curls. They seemed to end up at all the same events. My stomach lurched
as the image of them, side-by-side, popped into my head.

Lucy
didn’t seem to notice as the blood drained from my face. “Anyway. Have you read
this?” she asked, holding up her book.

“No,
uh, how is it?” I had read it, but I was grateful for the chance to reel. I
knew by my reaction that I was in too deep. I reminded myself that my anger was
unwarranted and there was nothing I could do to stop what was surely going on. Gretchen
had made no secret of her interest in David, and she almost always got what she
wanted.

~

“Rummy,”
Andrew said, placing his last set on the dining table. We all groaned and threw
down our cards.

“I’m
done,” Bill said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s three times in a row,
let’s play something else. Something Andrew sucks at.”

“How
about Texas hold ‘em?” I suggested.

“You’d
like that wouldn’t you?” Andrew asked, narrowing his eyes at me but smiling
playfully.

“Yeah,
good idea. Go get ‘em babe,” Bill said, tugging on my sweatshirt. “I think I
have a poker set in the car, actually.”

“You
do?” Andrew asked, his eyebrows knitting.

“Oh,
I think you’re right honey. Should I get it?” I teased, and Andrew’s face fell.

“Veto.
Andrew was cranky for a week after the last game,” Lucy said.

“Don’t
like losing to a girl, huh?” I asked, shuffling the deck.

“I
don’t like losing a hundred bucks, period. Two hundred if you count Lucy.”

“Oh,
but I used it to buy the most beautiful leather jacket,” I said wistfully. Bill
chuckled and leaned over, planting a kiss on my cheek. In my chair, I tilted
toward him, snuggling in the crook of his arm.

“Does
anyone want more salmon before I put it away?” Lucy asked. “It shouldn’t sit
out any longer.”

“I’m
full,” Bill said. “We got lucky with that seven pound Coho, man. The guys next
to us said they usually cap around five or six pounds.”

“Yeah?
Well let’s hope we can pull it off again tomorrow.”

“If
you do, throw it back. We have plenty,” I said, pushing away from the table.

“I’ll
throw you back,” Bill kidded as I headed for the bedroom.

I
grabbed my phone, shut off the alarm and rummaged through my suitcase for birth
control. When I didn’t find it there or in my purse, I started to panic and
pulled out the two neat clothing piles from my luggage, inserting my hand in
all the pockets. I unzipped Bill’s duffel bag in a hurry and dumped his stuff
on top of mine. Squatting on the floor, I rubbed my temples, trying to remember
the last place I saw it.
Kitchen counter.
But I remembered checking the kitchen counter before I left the apartment, and
it definitely hadn’t been there.

“Bill,”
I called into the cabin. When he didn’t respond, I yelled for him.

“Coming,”
he responded. I crossed my arms, trying to think.
What the fuck? Did he hide them so I’d forget? Does he think I’d give
in that easily? Would he do that?
I tried to think of what I’d do if he
had. I’d have to recalibrate my whole month. And I’d be pissed.
Would he take it that far?

This
time I used my angry voice when I called his name and he came quickly.

“Yeah?”
he asked, scanning the mess on the floor.

“Where’s
my birth control?” I heard my foot tapping against the floor but couldn’t stop
it.

“What?”

“My
birth control. Where is it? Did you do something with it?”

“What
would I do with it?” he asked, raising his chin and looking down at me over his
nose.

“I
don’t know but it’s not in my bag, and it wasn’t where I left it on the kitchen
counter. Did you take it? Did you hide it?”

“Hide
it?” he boomed. “Do you think I’m some sort of monster? Shit, Olivia, when did
you get so fucking paranoid?”

“Well,
where is it then?” I began to shrink back, recognizing the look in his eyes. I
rushed over and shut the heavy wooden door, steeling my shoulder against it.

He
snatched my purse from the floor and rifled through it. “Here,” he said,
pulling the packet out and throwing it on the floor. “There’s your bullshit birth
control. I put it in the zipper pocket so you wouldn’t forget it.”

“Oh,
I - ”

“Along
with a shitload of condoms, because I never know with you,” he said, pulling
out a string of foil packets and dropping them at his feet. “Don’t worry, we
won’t be needing them tonight,” he added.

“All
right,” I said. “I’m sorry, don’t get mad.”

      
“Really
Liv?” he said over me. “Why are you even starting birth control now? It doesn’t
make sense.”

“Bill,
keep your voice down, they’ll hear us,” I said, twisting my earlobe.

“Answer
me, damn it!”

“I
just don’t want to take any chances until - ”

“Until
you’re ready, I know,” he said with disgust. “Until everything is ‘perfect.’
How could you think I would do that?” He paused and his face lit up as
something occurred to him. “You’re acting like your mother.”

I
felt the breath being sucked out of me. “You’re absolutely right,” I said,
pinching my ear until I winced. “I’m so sorry. I thought - ”

“Well,
you thought wrong.”

“I
thought wr – look, don’t patronize me, Bill. Let’s just forget it, I
don’t want to make a scene.” I pulled the door open to leave, and he lunged
forward to slam it shut.

“No,
you
don’t get to leave the conversation.
I’m
leaving to enjoy
my
weekend, and
you
can stay here and clean up
this shit.” I had only a second to jump out of the way before he flung the door
open again. I looked after him, feeling awful, and crouched to pick up the
mess.

CHAPTER 1
6

THE NEXT WEEK WAS EMOTIONAL TURMOIL
.
Bill’s anger subsided, but my guilt persisted. Gretchen and David
took up a permanent place in my thoughts. Elaborate fantasies and imaginative
scenarios filled my head, some fueled by jealousy, others by lustful memories.
I was aroused, angry and crushed all at once. David’s rejection overwhelmed me.
I knew it was irrational, I knew it wasn’t fair.

At
night, I tossed and turned with memories of my mother’s senseless fits of
jealousy. Was I turning into her like Bill had cruelly accused? I was never
jealous with Bill, but when it came to David, it was slippery and out of my
control. My sleep had suffered more than usual from the anxiety. I hadn’t heard
from David in almost a week, and I wondered if my Nyquil-drunken plea for
relief had come true. Only, relief was far from what I felt.

I
was glad to have the diversion of the upcoming Meet & Greet. I filled the
days with minutiae, double-checking with the hotel and publicity department on
every last detail. With the approaching deadline, I made sure I was working on
the article every chance that I wasn’t party planning. By Thursday I was
already feeling much lighter as I made my way back from a nearby interview.

“Hi,
Jenny,” I said into my cell phone when it rang.

“David
Dylan is here to see you about the article.” She lowered her voice. “I told him
I could direct him to Lisa, but he seems to want to speak with you.”

“Did
you tell him I’m out?”

“Yes.
He says he’ll wait.” The phone beeped in my ear, and I pulled it back to see
that Bill was calling.

“Actually,
I’ll be there soon.”

“Great,”
she answered immediately.

I
hung up and let Bill go to voicemail. My lightness began to fade. Maybe he just
meant to apologize for . . . for what? I hadn’t thought of the kiss all day,
purposefully. The elevator ride felt longer than usual as questions floated in
my head. I wondered how I could ask about Gretchen without coming off as nosy
or jealous. I considered not asking at all, but how could I not? The thought
had hounded me for days.

When
I exited the elevator, I smoothed an invisible wrinkle from my skirt before
entering the foyer. David was glaring at Jenny from his chair while she wrote
furiously.

“Oh,
here she is now, one second,” she said, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “It’s
your husband. He has an emergency trip to New York tonight for work. He wants
to know if you want him to book you a ticket for the weekend.”

“Tell
him I’m in a meeting, and I’ll call him back,” I said shortly. “Hi, Mr. Dylan.”

“He
says it’s an emergency though,” Jenny piped.

I
leaned over her desk, aware that I was giving David an eyeful. “No ticket,” I
whispered in a clipped tone. I turned to David then and put on an unconvincing
smile. My heart thumped with the memory of our last meeting and with the
questions I was afraid to ask him.

“Can
we talk in your office?” he asked, getting up.

“Sure,”
I agreed, leaving Jenny to look after us.

Once
we were alone, I shut the door behind him. “Sorry to make you wait. I just
finished up with another Bachelor,” I said, picking up a paperclip from the
floor.

“Exactly
how many men are you interviewing?” he asked, curling a fist into his other
hand. “Never mind. I wanted to say thanks for the help with the tuxedo, I
appreciate the last minute scramble.” He paused. “I returned it to Lucy
already.”

“Great,”
I said flatly, sitting against my desk. “How was the event?”

“Olivia,
I came to find out if you need anything else from me for the article.” His
expression was unreadable, but I thought he looked icier than I’d ever seen.
Guarded.

“Ah,”
I said, mildly confused by his brush off. “We’ll need to take a photo unless
you have something of your own.”

“I
can provide that if necessary.”

“I
think I have good gist of what you’re about, but I need more hard details and -
”

“Can
I arrange that with someone else? I think it’s best that we end our personal
and professional relationship.”

I
cleared my throat and looked down, wanting nothing more than to hide my face at
that moment. My fingers picked at something on the edge of the desk while my
mind raced. It was obvious. His attraction had waned. The game was off. Pushing
me away the week before had said as much.
Say
something
, I urged.
Anything!

“Is
this about Gretchen?” I asked and then recoiled, feeling foolish.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Anything
else?” he prompted. I shook my head, feeling strongly indifferent about the
article suddenly and at the same time, profoundly sad over what was happening.
It’s for the best, things could not continue
as they were . .
. .
Shit.
If Beman
found out David was displeased, he would definitely have my head on a platter.
Normally I would ask what I’d done and squash it, but I preferred to save
myself the embarrassment of hearing David say it out loud.

“Should
we find someone else?” I asked evenly.

“I’ve
made a commitment, and I intend to see it through, but I will work with someone
else going forward.”