On Second Thought(38)

It didn’t work.

Tears leaked out of my eyes. This was the worst fight we’d ever had. Ever.

I was scared. In eleven years together, we’d never once talked about breaking up.

This had to be a blip on the screen of our life together. This wouldn’t last. He loved me. He loved our dog. He loved our life together. How many times had he told me that? A hundred? More?

But my heart seemed to be shivering.

I didn’t get much sleep that night.

Eric’s mother called me in the morning. “He’s here,” she said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s being an idiot.”

There was a rattle in the background. “Are you making him pancakes?” I asked. Judy’s pancakes were the stuff of legend, and she made them every time we came for breakfast.

“He’s hungry. Here, Eric,” she said, her voice growing distant as she breasted the phone. Yes, I knew her that well. “There’s bacon. I’m on the phone with Ainsley, you know, Ainsley—” her voice came back louder “—the woman who loves you? Remember her? Ainsley, sweetheart, I want you to know that Aaron and I are completely ashamed at how our son has treated you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s like he’s forgetting the most important person in his life,” she boomed. “Here’s the butter, honey. Quitting his job? A job that pays him that salary plus a Cadillac health-care program, plus that office and his nice secretary? And the gym, Ainsley! Right there in the building? The gym!” Judy had always been dazzled by Eric’s Wall Street office. “Not so much syrup, baby, it’s just sugar, you know. Anyway, we told him he was being a fool. Alaska! Who lives in Alaska? He’ll die in Alaska.”

“People die in Alaska all the time,” Aaron echoed.

“Exactly,” I said.

“He’ll come around, sweetheart. He’s not that dumb.” There was a pause, in which I imagined her glaring at her son, then putting another pancake on his plate. “Are we still on for shopping on Thursday? I have nothing to wear for my cruise.”

See? Things were fine if she still wanted to go shopping with me. I assured her I was, then hung up.

I was supposed to have lunch with Rachelle. Good, that would be good. I’d get my mind off things, and who knew? By the time I got back, Eric might well be sitting on the front porch, waiting for me with a bouquet of roses in his hand and regret in his heart.

I wouldn’t tell anyone about this. It would only make things awkward when Eric and I got back together.

I showered and dressed with care, trying to empty my mind. Put on a cute checked dress, long silver earrings and strappy sandals. There. I looked like myself again, slightly plump (curvy, Eric liked to say), cute as a bug’s ear.

Except I could see the shadow of anxiety in my eyes.

We’d never parted on angry terms. We’d never gone to bed mad. We were that special couple, two halves of a whole.

Rachelle and I were meeting at the Blessed Bean, a sweet café in the historic downtown section of Cambry-on-Hudson, not far from work. I rode my bike into town, past Kate’s still-new studio, photos of brides, grooms, babies and animals in the window. She liked to say that photography showed the truth of people, and over the years, she’d taken a few pictures of Eric and me. We looked happy in every damn one. There was no I haven’t been happy for some time anywhere.

Or maybe there was. Maybe I should check.

As I passed Bliss, the bridal gown boutique, I tried not to look in the window. The dresses were works of art (especially the short lace one I saw out of the corner of my eye). But I couldn’t be thinking about weddings right now. No. Eric had some crawling to do.

There was Rachelle, checking her phone in front of the restaurant. “Hey!” I called, plastering on a smile.

“Don’t you look cute!” she said. Like me, she loved clothes. Shopping was one of the ways we’d become friends. “Did you check out the lace dress in Bliss? Oh, my God, I have to get married just so I can wear that!”

“It would look great on you. I’m starving,” I said. “Let’s go in.”

We were seated by a window and she flirted with the waiter. Rachelle was single and on the prowl, and he was pretty cute.

“So guess what?” she said after we’d ordered. “I have office gossip.”

“Oh, goody! Do tell.”

“Captain Flatline went on a date last night. Can you believe it?”

“Really?” I drank some water to cover. Of course, I’d seen Jonathan last night—not that I’d realized it was a date. It had looked about as romantic as a bunionectomy. But I didn’t want to tell Rachelle. After all, Jonathan had seen me in my moment of humiliation. He’d ignored me as I left the restaurant, and I was grateful. I knew he’d never talk about it with anyone.

Rachelle chattered and speculated away, and I nodded and smiled but didn’t comment. We then moved on to where she could meet a nice guy—her last date had tried to convince her to become a Druid—and I promised to give her the number of one of the Wall Street crew she’d met at Eric’s party.

“I could use a rich boyfriend,” she said. “I had to cancel my cable and I’m in deep mourning. And what’s-his-name was pretty cute.”