The Wife Who Knew Too Much(14)

“Was that your wife?”

He didn’t reply.

“It’s okay. I understand,” I said, reaching for my clothes.

“No. Just—there are some things I should deal with.”

“Sure.”

“I wish it were different,” he said.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye for fear I’d choke up and beg to stay. Or else, get angry, which I had no right to do, since I’d known what this was, and did it anyway.

We got dressed in silence.

Outside, the air was fresh and cool, smelling of pine and green leaves. I took a breath to banish my sadness, but the beauty of the day only magnified it. The house had lost its air of menace and looked like the glamorous millionaire’s ski retreat it was, the kind of place I’d normally never get inside, unless I was catering a party. I wished we could stay longer, that we had the right to be there together. But we didn’t. Our night together had been stolen from its rightful owner, Connor’s wife. She was the one who belonged with him in places like this. He must feel that, too. He fell into a troubled silence that hung over us like a cloud all the way back to the Baldwin Grill, where I’d left my car.

The restaurant didn’t open for hours, and the parking lot was empty. In the light of day, the restaurant looked shabby, in need of paint, the parking lot riddled with potholes from spring rains. This was my life, not that ski chalet. Connor pulled up next to my dented ten-year-old Corolla, the only car in the lot. I was fond of that car. She even had a name—Corrie. Yet the contrast between her and the sleek Lamborghini brought home a hard truth. He was rich. I wasn’t. We were about to part ways, presumably forever. He’d return to his glamorous existence, his glamorous wife. I’d head back to the daily grind—alone.

I reached for the door handle. “I hope things get better for you. Goodbye, Connor.”

“Wait. Don’t go. This can’t be the end.”

I turned back, shrugging hopelessly. “What else can it be?”

“I have meetings all day today. But afterwards, the rest of the weekend, I’m free. Can I see you?”

There was nothing I wanted more in life than to see him again. But where would it lead?

“Connor, this isn’t good for us. And it’s not right.”

He laid his hand against my cheek and looked deep into my eyes.

“Last night with you was the first time in years that I felt like myself. The world made sense again. I know I have nothing to offer, no right to ask anything of you. But if you’d let me see you—if it’s just a few hours, minutes, even—anything you’ll give me, I’ll take.”

“Say we spend another night together. What happens then? You go back to your wife, right?”

“I won’t lie to you. The answer to that is yes, for now. I want to leave her. But it’s complicated, and I can’t put a time frame on it.”

“Thank you for being honest. I love you, Connor. I really do, I always have. But this—I just can’t. I should go.”

His face fell as I flung the door open.

I ran to my car, got in, turned on the engine. The Lamborghini hadn’t budged. Connor sat there, staring at me through the glass, looking as devastated as I felt. I wanted to run back into his arms. I couldn’t. I don’t know how I managed, but I put the car in gear and drove away, second-guessing myself all the way home.

I was such a mess at work that night that everybody noticed. Not just Matt, the bartender, but my manager, Liz, whom I’d worked with at another restaurant before following her here. And the hostess, Hayley, who was a ditz, but a sweetheart. They all saw that something was wrong from the expression on my face and kept asking if I was okay. I said I was fine. But after I screwed up a couple of orders, Liz pulled me aside.

She was an ex-hippie, big-boned and apple-cheeked, with a bright blue streak in her graying hair.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I’ll try to focus.”

“Is it the guy from last night? The ex with the sports car?”

“Matt told you about him?”

“Uh-huh. You went home with him?”

“Yeah. Stupid. Now I’m crazy for him again, and it’s already over.”

I teared up.

“Aww, babe, don’t cry. Why does it have to be over?”

I wiped my eyes, fighting back the tears.

“He’s only in town for the weekend.”

She shrugged. “A lot can happen in a weekend.”

“And, he’s married.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks.”

“Yup.”

“You know, Bart was married when he and I first met.”

Bart was her husband of twenty years. They had four children together.

“I didn’t know that.”

“I was with someone, too. But we were both miserable. And from the second we met, we knew it was meant to be. I’m just saying. You only live once.”

She patted my arm.

I went back out on the floor, thinking about what Liz had said. What if Connor and I were destined to be together? What if we were true soul mates, who would never find happiness with anyone else? He was going to divorce Nina anyway, eventually. I’d sent him away without even exchanging phone numbers. What if he got single and couldn’t find me? I might not stay at the restaurant forever. Maybe I’d missed my chance. Made a terrible mistake. As the shift dragged on, I got more anxious. The mistakes piled up. I served the wrong food to one table, knocked over a wineglass at another. An hour before my shift ended, I was standing at the coffee station, when I saw Liz heading my way, and geared up to beg her forgiveness.