Good for You: A Novel (36)

“Oooh, now you’ve gone and done it,” he hooted when she’d finished. “And for the record, not only do I believe it, I called it ages ago.”

“I’m aware, Harry. But nothing happened.” She was glad he couldn’t see the whole-body flush that came over her as she recalled Wyatt rejecting her. How could you simultaneously want something with every fiber of your being, yet know you should avoid it at all costs?

“I know, sweetheart. But maybe it should have, no?”

“Harry, did you get a lobotomy? You’re acting like this is a good thing. It’s the exact opposite. It’s a massive mess that I don’t know how to clean up. I have to get out of here!”

“Or maybe not?” he said, and she could just picture him smiling devilishly.

“No,” she said firmly as she stepped aside to make space for an elderly couple and their Labrador. “Not even an option. I’m leaving Friday, but honestly, I have half a mind to take off tonight.”

“Aly, said with love . . .”

“That’s like starting a sentence with I don’t mean to offend you and then saying something super offensive,” she said, shooting a tight smile at a young woman sitting on a bench, who’d presumably overheard and had shot her a thumbs-up.

“This is different. For the record, I do love you. I also wonder if you should stay put for a few more weeks.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Well, I haven’t come to see you yet.” Harry had gotten placed on a major case the week before and had been working around the clock since then.

“So? There will be other chances,” said Aly. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing that she’d just implied she was going to return to the house at some point. “Or not.”

“See? Admit it. Part of you likes it there.”

“I don’t hate it,” she confessed.

“High praise from a city slicker,” he teased.

“It doesn’t matter, Harry,” she said with exasperation. “As long as Wyatt’s living here, I can’t be.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t have a place to return to in New York.”

“Staying in Michigan is decidedly not going to help me find an apartment in New York.”

“Have you put feelers out with friends and colleagues?”

“I’m going to,” she said, thinking of Seth. She was going to have to message him and see if he was amenable to a houseguest for a few days. “I do have a broker in mind, though.” Now that she had thousands of dollars sitting in her bank account, she could enlist the help of the rental agent who’d helped Jada find her place.

If only the thought of using that money didn’t make her stomach twist into knots.

“Or you could just hold tight,” said Harry.

“I don’t know if I can change my plane ticket,” she said weakly. “Also, I’m pretty sure Wyatt’s ready for me to leave as soon as humanly possible.” She’d done her best not to look at him on the ride back. But every time her eyes accidentally flitted to him, she could see the muscles in his jaw twitching and the vein in his temple throbbing so hard she could’ve taken his pulse with it.

“Oh, I suspect your little sand tumble had the opposite effect,” said Harry, and Aly snorted in protest. “As to your plane ticket, I will personally pay for your change fee.”

“You will not.”

“Try me. Listen, love. How about I come out there? Just for like a night or two?”

“You said work was crazy.”

“It is—and so is your pal Harry. I plan to get this motion filed before next Thursday. I can come Friday.”

That was more than a week away. “I don’t know, Har. I should really probably stick to my plans.”

“I’ll bring Beckett and Tim to sweeten the deal. Unless you don’t want to snuggle a ridiculously chubby little six-month-old?”

She couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re bribing me.”

“I’ve done worse in my time. I’ve gotta run—the minions are about to storm my office. But text me and tell me how things go when you get home, ’kay? Love you.”

“I will. Love you, too,” she said. It was only after she’d slipped her phone back in her pocket that it occurred to her that she was going to have to tell Harry to stop calling Luke’s place home.



Aly was not surprised to find Wyatt’s car missing when she pulled up. Really, she didn’t expect to see much of him before she left for the airport in two days. But as she entered the kitchen, only to discover that no mess had been made for her to clean, she felt oddly deflated.

Where did he disappear to, anyway? She knew he wasn’t working, and he didn’t seem to have friends in town. So how was he filling the hours? Did he have a girlfriend? She almost hoped so. At least then he would’ve rejected her for a reason other than . . . well, her being herself.

As she surveyed the first floor, which was disturbingly tidy, it occurred to her that the question she should ask was why she was worried about how Wyatt Goldstein spent his time. A few years earlier, she’d interviewed a psychologist for an article on healthy habits who’d said that an untended mind was akin to a toddler let loose in an antique store. “You have to give your brain something to do or it’s going to break everything in sight,” said the psychologist.