The New Husband(71)

“Work can wait,” Ginny eventually pleaded. “This is us, the gang, the gals, once a year.”

“I wish I could go, I really do, but my clients need me,” Nina said, exchanging one kind of guilt for another. She loved her friends dearly, and it broke her heart into pieces to disappoint them. But Simon was a factor, and his concerns were valid and had to be taken into account. Barring some serious ailment or act of God, Nina made a silent vow that this would be the one and only girls’ weekend she’d ever miss.

“Work, work, work,” Ginny said, sounding annoyed now. “How did they get on without you before, huh?”

Nina returned a nervous laugh. “That’s how much they needed me,” she said.

“Well, no wonder Simon thinks you’re having an affair.”

Nina’s breath clogged. “What?”

“Yeah, I saw him at Dunkin’ Donuts, and he told me about how busy you’ve been, how he thinks you might be shacking up with somebody at work. My words, not his.”

Hot anger raced through Nina’s veins. “What were his words exactly?” she demanded.

“I don’t know … I mean, I think he was just kidding, right? He said something about you hooking up with somebody at the office. I didn’t find it very funny, actually it was kinda weird, so I didn’t press him on it. I sort of ignored it, until now, because, well, I can kind of see why he might have made that remark.”

“I’m not having an affair,” Nina said, feeling the muscles in her neck tense, her pulse rising. “That’s really hurtful.” How could Ginny, of all people, be so unaware of how that comment came across? Nina had told Ginny and Susanna about meeting Teresa, what she’d learned of Chris the stalker, and of Glen’s drunken indiscretion that, considering the source, could have been more than a one-night fling, so she had to know it was still a deeply sensitive subject.

“Oh. My. Gosh. I am the biggest ass,” Ginny said, finally making the connection. “I wasn’t thinking, honey. I was upset about the weekend, is all. You know how much I love you.”

Nina let her anger settle so that she could redirect it to where it belonged—at Simon.

She ended the call with a promise to talk later and got Simon on the phone.

“Hey, babe,” he said, sounding delighted to hear from her. “What’s up?”

“Why would you say that to Ginny?” Nina’s voice quaked from a second jolt of adrenaline.

“Say what?”

“Tell Ginny you thought I was having an affair.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“What? She said that?” Simon sounded utterly perplexed.

“You two were in line together at Dunkin’ Donuts, and you told her you thought I was so busy at work because I really was having an affair. That’s incredibly hurtful, Simon, especially given what I’ve been through. You know how sensitive I am about that. Why would you say that to my friend?”

“Because I didn’t,” Simon said indignantly. “I remember that conversation quite clearly. What I believe I said is that they wouldn’t let you come up for air, and if she misheard that somehow, well, that’s Ginny’s problem, not mine.”

Nina’s outrage left in one great breath, followed soon after by a string of apologies.

Once again, she’d doubted Simon, and once again, he had a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“It’s okay, babe,” Simon said, himself sounding a bit out of breath, like his pulse had spiked as well.

But it wasn’t okay. Like the incident with the TV remote, or when her start date had cost them all a surprise vacation, or her sneaking around about Hugh, the hours she’d been working, Maggie’s struggles with him—all of it ended up making her feel guilty, as if she’d done something wrong.

Simon did his best to reassure Nina it was no big deal. He was already over it. He was far more concerned about what he was going to wear out to dinner with the superintendent of schools and his wife tomorrow night. Nina uttered a small gasp.

“What dinner?” She had no memory of any dinner plans.

“I told you about it last week,” he said. “I even reminded you about it this morning before work. Dinner, tomorrow, with my boss and his wife; we’re going to Surf and you said you wanted the crab bisque.”

I did? thought Nina.

“Simon, honey, that’s … that’s not possible.”

Simon laughed almost playfully, but with a hint of annoyance, too. “Well, it is possible, and it is also happening, and we did talk about it.”

“What time tomorrow?” she asked.

“Five,” he said.

“I can’t go,” Nina said. “I have a client appointment, and I can’t cancel. I’m so sorry. I swear we didn’t discuss this.”

The voice in her head again, the guilty one, spoke up: But you probably did talk about it—just as you probably told him to make damn sure the TV got turned off at six, because you are distracted, because you are working too much, too hard. And it’s bad for Maggie, for your struggling family …

Simon sighed.

“Dang,” he said, accustomed to finding alternative words for cursing because of his students. “We made the plan last week. When did you book the client?”