Confidential(81)

“No.” It rang out in the vestibule. “I’ve been finding my power.”

I let it hang there a long minute so she could feel the disconnect between her words and how she appeared tonight. She had been fiery that day by my car, but she was shrinking. Whatever power he was supposedly granting her with his magic cock was an illusion.

“I hope that’s true,” I said. “But whatever he gives, he takes away in the end. I used to feel that way, too.” I stepped toward her, and she looked like she wanted to curl inside herself. “This is my card. Call me anytime.”

She took it, but she wouldn’t look at it or at me.

I stepped back. “I’m Flora,” I repeated, in case she’d missed it the first time. “Could you tell me your name?”

“Lucy.” It was a true whisper.

“It’s good to meet you, Lucy. Call me if you want to talk or to meet up somewhere. We could help each other.”

“What? Like a support group?”

The sardonic nature of her comment surprised me. But I liked it. She still had a little fire in her; it hadn’t been totally extinguished. “Maybe. Or like a revenge group. He could use a taste of his own medicine.”

She was about to say something, and then thought better of it. “I’m late.”

“Just think about what I said. And if you can, keep it between us, okay? That gives us the upper hand.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You don’t know him, either. Trust me.”





CHAPTER 66





GREER


I woke up that morning, and I knew. It was like I could feel the migration of the cells, arranging themselves into a double helix.

I ran to the drugstore in my pajamas with no bra and a coat over the top. Vanity was a thing of the past. The baby I was so sure was inside me had already vanquished it, and good riddance. I was going to change, all for the better, starting now. I got the twofer pregnancy tests, and back inside my condo, I took them both simultaneously. It was confirmed, in tandem.

But I didn’t want to leave even 0.01 percent to chance, so I did a test at the doctor’s office. Then I was out on the street, grinning madly. I was 100 percent, absolutely, certainly pregnant.

From the back seat of a cab, I dialed Michael. Whenever it wasn’t too inconvenient, I took cabs instead of Uber or Lyft. I liked the plastic divider. It wasn’t genuine privacy protection, but it was a boundary of sorts.

“Take Gough,” I told the driver. “The lights are timed.”

“Hello?” Michael said.

“Hi,” I said. “You’ll never guess why I’m calling.”

“You missed me already?”

“Guess again.”

A long pause. “Are you . . . I mean, did it really happen that fast?”

I didn’t love that response. “Sorry, my ovaries aren’t on your timetable.”

“No, no. It’s incredible. Congratulations. I just thought it would take longer, that’s all.”

“Because of my advanced maternal age?”

I noticed the driver glancing at me in his rearview mirror. When he saw I’d caught him, he immediately shifted his eyes back to the road.

“You’re beautiful for any age, Greer,” Michael said. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“You don’t need to flatter me. I’m already having your baby.” He went quiet for just a beat too long. “What’s up?”

“I’m just floored.” He sounded tremulous. Moved. Excited. He really wanted this.

My eyes filled with tears. “We shouldn’t get our hopes up too much. Miscarriage rates are high in the first trimester, and it’s even higher when you’re pushing forty.” I looked toward the driver, daring him to take his eyes off the road. He didn’t.

“I know,” he said. “But we’re allowed to feel some joy, right?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “That’s allowed.”

I wasn’t going to tell anyone until three months, no need to tempt fate, but in my heart, I felt like this was it. We’d done it, a hole in one. For the next ten weeks, it would be our beautiful secret.

“Could we celebrate?” he asked.

“With sparkling cider.”

“As long as we can toast, I’m happy.”

We agreed that I’d meet him at his office and go from there. I thought maybe that meant that the toasting would happen in his office, since that was where we’d met. Or we could walk up the street to one of the restaurants. Or he might invite me back to his house; I knew it was nearby. At that thought, I felt a stirring that was in my loins, not my womb.

It seemed fitting, finding out on a Wednesday. Our lucky day.

Hours later, I was still riding high, full of anticipation about the night to come. I was almost to the door of Michael’s building when I heard staccato steps behind me. Then there was an urgent voice in my ear: “I need to talk to you.”

I looked over at a woman in tight jeans and a tight sweater, designer and expensive, sexy but in the most effortful way. Her hair was lustrous and black, probably flat-ironed and then each wave was twirled back into it. Her nose was prominent, though it didn’t detract from her attractiveness; it made her more imposing, handsome rather than merely sexy. She didn’t appear threatening, but even so, my hand reflexively went to my abdomen.