The Affair (27 page)

And was her current situation with Robert truthful or honest? she was forced to ask herself. It was, she decided fiercely, because she loved him.

“You never know, maybe all he wants is to have drinks. If you get out relatively early, you might check out the Union Oyster House. They serve food at the bar, and they have the best oysters in town.”

“Great idea.”

“But that doesn’t answer the question I asked earlier: Are you going to spend the night with me? Should I wait up?”

Robert popped his head around the door and grinned. “If I do spend the night, I’ll be sleeping. You exhaust me.”

Staring intently at the fogged-up mirror, she reapplied her lipstick. “If you can get to me before one o’clock, then come over, but if you’re going to be any later, then forget it. Text me when you’ve got an idea what’s happening.”

“Good plan.”

Robert stood back to examine her as she stepped out of the bathroom. “There is no way to tell that less than half an hour ago you were lying on this table making passionate love.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Walker. I was closing a very important business deal.” She leaned over and kissed him, brushing her lips against his, leaving the tiniest thread of Viva Glam red lipstick on his upper lip. “And I do like the way you close a deal,” she added.

She checked her phone when she returned to the car. She had one missed call on her phone; it was from Izzie.

“Here’s the plan,” Izzie’s chirpy voice said without preamble, voice dipping and crackling. “I got your message and understand that you are now unexpectedly free tonight. So am I. We can get dressed up and go out for drinks in a noisy bar filled with loud people we just want to smack, or I can come to your place with food. The menu for tonight is pizza with extra chillies, Chinese with extra chillies, or sizzling prawns in a hot and spicy sauce . . . and extra chillies. The luxurious repast is my treat, but the wine is up to you. And I promise not to smoke, either inside or outside the house.”

Stephanie hit the second speed dial, which connected her with her friend. “Where are you?”

“I’m still at the hospital. I just finished rounds.”

Stephanie could hear the sound of an ambulance and wasn’t sure if it was coming through the phone or was in the neighborhood. She was one street away from Mass General. “I’m literally around the corner. I’ll leave the car here and meet you at the Liberty Hotel, in Clink. We’ll get a quick drink, then pick up the pizza. How does that plan grab you?”

“Sounds like a better plan.”

T
he moment she stepped into Clink restaurant at the Liberty Hotel, Stephanie knew it was a mistake. The bar was a mass of bodies, and she recognized half a dozen faces immediately. Naturally, most of the men in the bar had turned when she’d entered, so she now had no chance of slipping out unnoticed. She quickly lifted her phone to her face in an effort to discourage them from coming over to join her. She hit the speed dial.

“Where are you?” she asked in a singsong voice.

“Right beside you,” came the immediate reply, and Stephanie jumped as Izzie Wilson materialized out of the crowd.

Stephanie leaned down to kiss her friend’s cheek. Izzie Wilson was a year younger than her friend and at least six inches shorter. She was blond, her features all angles and planes. The two women were the exact opposites in just about every way possible, and they were closer than sisters.

“This might have been a mistake,” Stephanie suggested.

“It might,” Izzie agreed lightly, “but probably not the worst mistake we’ve ever made. We’ll stay an hour, then head back to your place, and pick up some food on the way back.”

Stephanie knew that the chances of escaping within the hour were slim, and while the last thing she wanted to do was to spend an evening in a noisy pre-Christmas bar, already the boisterous, happy atmosphere was starting to lift her spirits. Although she loved being with Robert, sometimes—particularly of late, when he’d been so panicked and under so much pressure—she came away from him feeling depressed and worn down, as if she had absorbed his negative mood.

“What are you having?”

“Glass of white wine would be perfect.” She positioned herself beside the door and watched in admiration as Izzie battled her way, with a combination of charm, smiles, excuse-me’s, and elbows, to the bar. A throng of men was standing at the bar with their money in their hands, desperately attempting to catch the bartender’s eye, but Izzie was served immediately. Stephanie thought it might have something to do with the remarkably low-cut little black dress she was wearing. Izzie returned within minutes and handed Stephanie her glass. The two women silently toasted one another.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be around with—with R&K after the conversation you had with Charles.”

Stephanie shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I suggested Robert for the pop video gig, so I’ve got to see that to its conclusion. But it will be the last job they get from us.”

Izzie sipped her wine, leaving a bright pink lipstick mark on the rim of the glass. “Does he know?”

“Not yet. I was going to tell him this afternoon, but I decided not to ruin his Christmas. Besides,” she added with a cheeky grin, “we got distracted.”

“Distracted?”

“Distracted.”

“Oh.” Izzie stared at her friend. “You didn’t . . . you haven’t?” she asked in a horrified, yet fascinated, whisper.

Stephanie nodded happily. “In his office. This afternoon. On the boardroom table. It was fabulous. Always is.”

“Always? You mean you’ve done it more than once in the office? You never told me.”

“We’ve done it a couple of times. Besides, I don’t ask you how often you make out with Dave.”

“Not often enough is the answer. Wow; no wonder you’re ditzy this evening. And I’m supposed to be the blonde, remember?” She sipped a little of her wine. “I’ve always wanted to do that with Dave in my office, but the only place is the on-call room, and that would feel too much like a bad television show.”

“I thought you were going out with Dave tonight.”

“He’s working. He got a call this afternoon—one of the guys came down with this flu bug that’s going around. He was grateful for the overtime.” Dave was an EMT in the same hospital, a huge, hulking bear of a man who stood six three to Izzie’s five three. He earned extra money on weekends by working the doors of some of Boston’s toughest clubs. He took no shit from anyone except Izzie, who bullied him mercilessly.

Izzie waved at an unusually tall, spike-haired young man at the bar, who smiled and nodded back. “I fixed his anterior cruciate,” she explained to Stephanie’s raised eyebrow. “He just got picked up by the Celtics.” Then, not looking at Stephanie, scanning the crowd, she added casually, “You know, I think he’s going to propose this Christmas.”

“The Celtics player?” Stephanie asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Dave!”

Izzie and Dave had been an item for three years now and had lived together for the past nine months. Stephanie toasted her. “Congratulations!”

Izzie turned away from the crowd and lifted her glass. “Oh, you know Dave. He’s a big old ox. Likes to think he’s being very subtle and casual. He kept taking off one of my rings a couple of weeks ago and trying it on his little finger. Thought I wouldn’t notice or cop to what he was doing. And he’s being very secretive lately, and if he’s asked me once, he’s asked me a dozen times what time I’ll be home on Christmas Eve.”

“And what’ll you do if he asks you?”

“Say yes, I suppose.”

“You suppose. I thought you loved him.”

“I do love him. But is he the one?” Then Izzie shrugged. “How can you be sure if any of them are the one? I’ll say ‘yes’ of course. I could do a lot worse.”

“That sounds very enthusiastic,” Stephanie said sarcastically. This was rich—coming from the woman who gave her relationship advice!

“I’m happy,” Izzie admitted. “He’s a good man and will make a great husband and a terrific father. Sure, he’s still a kid himself. His mother will be thrilled; mine will be pleased; we’ll have a fabulous wedding. What more can you expect these days?”

Stephanie shook her head. There should be more, shouldn’t there?

A group of young women were gathering up their bags at one of the plush couches. One glanced at Stephanie and nodded toward the seat she was vacating, with a raised eyebrow. Stephanie raised her glass in reply, then caught Izzie’s arm and began to maneuver her through the crowd toward the couch. “Thanks,” she said as they swapped places with the girls, who swayed out into the night, trailing five distinct perfumes in their wake.

“Now you see, men would never do that,” Izzie said. “That’s one of major differences between the sexes; women look out for one another.”

Stephanie wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t want to argue with her friend. “When do you think Dave will propose?” she asked.

“My money’s on Christmas Eve, at midnight.”

“Very romantic,” Stephanie murmured, and it was very romantic. She wondered if she would ever be proposed to in such a romantic fashion.

“If he does propose—I’d like you to be my maid of honor.”

Suddenly Stephanie’s eyes were full of tears. The two women had always promised that they would be each other’s maids of honor. She nodded; then, blinking furiously, she attempted a smile. “That means you’ll have to be my matron of honor. If I ever get married,” she added, surprised at the note of bitterness in her voice.

Izzie’s face remained an expressionless mask, and she concentrated on her drink.

“You don’t believe that he’ll ever marry me, do you?”

“I could lie to you and say yes. But I won’t do that. No, I don’t believe he will. I think if you even push him for some sort of commitment, he’s going to run a mile. They all do.”

The crowd surged and swirled around them. In one corner someone attempted to sing “Jingle Bell Rock,” but was quickly drowned out by the groans of the other drinkers.

“Why do you hate him?”

“Because he’s going to hurt you. Because I’ve been hurt by men just like him, and I know what it’s like.”

“Robert is different from other men.”

“Robert is a man. And all men are after one thing.”

“He’s not like that.”

But Izzie was nodding. “He is. Look, we both know the real problem here is that you’ve fallen for him. That means you’re not thinking straight.”

“He loves me too,” Stephanie said quickly.

“And how does he show that?”

“Oh, please don’t start that again,” Stephanie pleaded.

“Start what?” Izzie demanded. “I’m your oldest friend. Your closest friend. The first friend you made freshman year when you wore that ridiculous hat,” she reminded her. “No one else would tell you how silly the hat looked.”

“You did.”

“That’s because friends look out for one another. I’m merely telling you what I see. I see an older man sleeping with a younger woman, who happens to be able to bring in some extra business to his ailing company. I’m not saying that’s the only reason he’s with you, but I’m sure it’s certainly an added bonus as far as he’s concerned.”

Stephanie bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snapping out a response that would bring the evening crashing into an argument. She also knew that Izzie was right; her friend was only saying what she’d been thinking herself.

“I don’t see this ending well. I know you didn’t set out to trap him or to lure him away from his family. I know you love him, and it’s all wonderful and magical and you think you’re rescuing him from an uncaring, unthinking, cruel wife . . . but you know something? Consider the source. Remember, everything you know about Kathy, you’ve learned from him.”

“Well, some I picked up from the time I worked there,” Stephanie said quickly, almost defensively.

“You saw one tiny aspect of their relationship for a very brief period of time six years ago. You cannot base your entire understanding of their marriage on that. No one truly knows what goes on in a marriage, except the couple themselves.”

This was part of the ongoing argument the two women had over one another’s boyfriends. Stephanie had very nearly persuaded Izzie to drop Dave, and now here he was, about to propose to her.

“What do you think I should do?” Stephanie asked miserably, because deep in her heart, she knew that her friend was right.

“You’ve been together for eighteen months; it’s time for him to put up or shut up. Force him to make a decision. Make him choose. You or the wife. And you know something? You’re really asking him to be fair to both of you, because right now, he’s being neither fair nor truthful with either one of you. You’re looking for commitment now, not vague promises for the future. And the best commitment he can give you now is to be with you on Christmas Day.” Izzie paused and put down her drink. Then she took both of Stephanie’s hands in hers and stared deep into her troubled eyes. “Is that unreasonable? No, it’s not. Is it unfair? Sure, he may tell you it is, but you know something—it’s not. What’s unfair is leaving you dangling. What’s unfair is lying to you.”

Deep in her handbag, Stephanie’s phone started to ring. She was almost grateful for the opportunity to break away from Izzie’s savage intensity. It took her a few moments to locate the phone and snap it open.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Becky?”

“No, you have the wrong number.” She hung up, then sat for a moment looking around the bar, watching the various couples laughing, enjoying themselves, touching one another, holding hands, being close and intimate with one another, unafraid who was watching, not caring who saw them.

She wasn’t able to do that with Robert. Not in Boston anyway. He was afraid that people would see. Afraid that they would tell Kathy, and then . . .

And then what?

What would happen if Kathy knew? What would she do?

“What are you thinking?” Izzie asked quietly.

Stephanie shook her head, and her smile was touched with pain. “I know you’re right. All you’ve done is put in words what I’ve been trying to articulate.” She leaned forward and kissed Izzie’s cheek. “Thank you. I think I’m going to head home. Talk to Robert.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Ask a question and demand an answer.”

“And if you don’t get one you like?”

“Then we’re done.”