The Lies That Bind(84)

“I know. But she wasn’t my friend when I found this out. She was a stranger who had just lost her husband,” I say, then explain about seeing the MISSING poster in Washington Square Park. I tell him how I called the number on it with Jasmine, and then went to meet Amy in Brooklyn. How I decided, in the moment, that I couldn’t add to her heartbreak.

“Okay,” he says, getting increasingly upset. “I can understand not telling her right away. But now…now she’s planning our wedding!”

“I know, but—”

He cuts me off, his eyes filled with hurt—and something else, too. “But nothing, Cecily. How can you not tell her? And, more important, how could you not tell me? I’m your fiancé! Jesus!”

“But when I found out he was married, you weren’t my fiancé yet,” I say. “And I was reeling from the shock of everything—I mean, it’s not like I only found out that he was married. First, I found out he was dead. And then I found out he was married—”

“Wait,” he says, staring at me, wild-eyed. “You were with him all the way up until nine eleven?”

I nod, knowing he will soon connect all the dots.

“So when did you last see him?”

“The night before,” I say, my voice trailing off.

“The night before what?”

“The night before the eleventh,” I say, bracing myself. “On the tenth.”

He stares at me for what feels like forever. When he speaks again, his voice is shaking. “So let me get this straight, Cecily. On the very last night of this guy’s life, he was with you—and not Amy? His wife? And she still doesn’t know any of this?”

    I nod.

He stares at me, looking sickened, then says, “Did you have sex with him? That night?”

I freeze, biting my lip so hard that it hurts. “Yes,” I finally whisper, tasting blood.

“Jesus.” He gasps. “So this baby…” He looks down at my stomach with the most horrified expression before meeting my gaze again. “Cecily. Please, please tell me…that there’s no chance…” He looks up at the ceiling before finishing. “That this baby could be his?”

“I don’t—I don’t think so,” I say. “But it might be—”

“It might not be mine?” he asks.

“I guess there’s a chance that…it might not be,” I whisper.

“Are you fucking serious?” he says. His voice isn’t loud, but he might as well be screaming.

“I’m sorry,” I say, blinking back tears, knowing that it’s so not fair for me to cry. Not now. “Matthew…say something.”

“Hold on,” he says. “I need a second here.”

I watch him stand, walk over to the window, and look out for the longest time. When he turns around, I see that his eyes are red. “So…so what if he hadn’t died?” Matthew says, from across the room.

I clasp my sweaty hands together, gathering strength, then actually praying before saying, “Well…actually…he didn’t die….I thought he did. Everyone thought he did….But I drove up to the mountains today, thinking I was going to see his brother—and instead, I found Grant. Hiding out there.”

Any composure Matthew had scraped together is gone again. “Hiding out? What?” he shouts. “What the actual fuck is going on?”

“He lied to everyone,” I say. “He…he faked his death.”

    “Oh my God. This guy is so fucking sick,” he says. “Why? Why would he do this?”

“I don’t know, Matthew. I have no idea,” I say. “I guess he’s just…not a good person. I thought he was…but he’s not….And on top of that, he’s a criminal….I think he committed some kind of financial crime—I’m not sure exactly what he did—but he says the feds are after him. So he’s hiding because of that, too.”

Matthew looks at me like his mind is completely blown, then walks slowly back to the sofa, sits down, and says, “Okay. Forget this asshole for a second…and forget Amy….I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me all of this sooner. Right when we got back together—or at least by the time we got engaged? Why all the secrets?”

I inhale. “I…I guess I was afraid,” I say, remembering what Ethan said to me last night on the phone.

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid…of my own bad judgment…afraid of hurting you…”

“But that makes no sense, Cecily. If you didn’t know he was married, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”

“I know….But it felt like I did…and I was just trying to figure everything out. I needed to figure it out on my own.”

“Figure what out?” he says, his eyes narrowing. “What was there to figure out once you knew he was dead, and had a widow? What more did you need to know?”

“I needed to know why he was cheating on his wife…what he was thinking…how he felt about me.”

“How he felt about you? Who cares? What difference would that make?…Unless you loved him?”