If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(17)

“Okay. But if things like that—with the pan—keep happening, you’ll tell me, right? In fact, would you like to stay with me for a few days?”

“No. I like my house. My things.” She wrung her hands, her voice tightening.

“Okay.” Truthfully, I would’ve enjoyed company in that cold, empty house, but I didn’t press. “Would you like me to stay for lunch?”

“No, dear. You go home and keep trying to reach Lyle. You’re not the only one who’s had to fight for love, so don’t give up.”

I’d always disliked those not-quite-veiled remarks about her being Dad’s second choice. So what if her sorority sister, Patty Pollack, had broken his heart first? I’d witnessed the little kisses he’d planted on Mom’s temple and the soft smiles shared across the dinner table. He might’ve been intrigued by the devil-may-care Patty in the beginning, but maturity made him value my mother’s steadiness in the end. “I won’t.”

She patted my cheek. “I need a nap.”

“Okay.” Fresh out of excuses to linger, I gave her another hug. “Get some rest.”

God bless her if she could sleep.

When I got home, I went straight to the computer to look up our credit card account to figure out exactly where Lyle was today, but there hadn’t been any new charges in days. I went back several months, looking for evidence of the affair. No hotel room charges. No jewelry store purchases. Nothing obvious or attention-grabbing. I groaned. What did it matter? He wasn’t denying the affair, so proof was pointless.

I shut it down and walked through my soundless house, room by room, while dialing Lyle again. Invisibility wasn’t unfamiliar. When you don’t toot your own horn, your good deeds can go unnoticed—or at least underappreciated. Swallowing my pride and fighting for love had been my life’s norms—even with my mom, I’d worked to be her pet.

Lyle had been the only exception. He’d pursued me. Loved me. Admired me. Appreciated me.

Now he wouldn’t answer my calls.

Given his note, I hadn’t actually expected him to. But this limbo would make navigating the coming days at work and in town difficult.

His voice mail beeped.

“Lyle, it’s me. I’ve given you a couple of days since getting your note.” I closed my eyes and leaned against the kitchen island, telling myself not to sound desperate. “I’m shocked. Angry. Mostly I’m hurt. Between the baby and the money you borrowed, we need to talk now. Under the circumstances, it’d be best if you paid my mom back sooner than later.” My resolve folded beneath the burden of my unraveling world, and I hated myself a little right then. “I need to talk to you. Even for a few minutes. Please. This feels like being locked in a dark closet . . .” I hung up before I begged even more.

My lungs burned. Saturday afternoon stretched in front of me—a long, lonely day.

I caught my reflection in the microwave glass. Pretty enough, but not exotic like Ebba. Not even edgy like my sister. Maybe a new look would make me feel better. At the very least, it would kill time.

With my purse and keys in hand, I headed to Divaz Salon. Lyle preferred my classic style. Right now I wasn’t in the mood to do anything that pleased him, which made it the perfect time to try something new.





CHAPTER FOUR

ERIN

When Mo didn’t scratch the door at the sound of the key, I expected the worst. If Max had taken my dog, he’d better expect to be hunted down by a wild mama bear fresh off a grueling five-hour drive.

Once inside, I flicked on the light and spied Mo locked in his crate. I dropped my things on the floor before rushing over to set him free. “Oh, Mosley-Mo, how long have you been stuck in there?”

Mo crawled out from his little cave, stretching in a better downward-dog position than many of my students managed. His tail wagged enthusiastically, making me grateful that dogs were easier to read than humans. Mo was always happy to see me, too . . . another key difference between him and some people.

I tickled his belly, then had him follow me back outside to do his business. At the end of long, tiring days like this one, an elevator would be nice. Then again, three flights of stairs kept my butt pert. While Mo did his frantic back-and-forth dance in search of the perfect spot to poo, I checked my phone messages.

Hey, Erin, it’s Amanda. I hope you enjoyed the yoga retreat. You’re probably tired from the drive, so come to dinner at my house. Mom will be there. I’d actually like to talk about something, too. Six thirty? I’ll throw in a pumpkin pie. Thanks.

I checked the time. Five o’clock. Early enough that I didn’t have a good excuse to say no. Pumpkin pie was a draw, admittedly, but I could hardly get excited about spending the evening with my nervous-Nellie mom and my “perfect” sister at her “perfect house,” where her “told you so” expressions would surely surface as soon as she found out about Max.

Spending the evening writing down all the ideas that had percolated during the retreat would be far more productive. If only I could find a cheap—or free—place to teach yoga, my income could increase enough to create some financial breathing room. Maybe even enough to hang on to my apartment, although this place might not be worth it.

Amanda hadn’t mentioned Lyle, so he still had to be in Florida. Thank God. His presence had a way of sucking up all the oxygen.