“Got away?” I manage to choke out, pretending that isn’t what I have called him in my mind for almost sixteen years. “You left for medical school, not me.” I try turning this into a joking manner.
“That’s true.” He sips the wine and points at me. “But I only left because you didn’t return any of my calls or emails. I was a shell of a man.”
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation and there is no world where I would tell him the truth of the matter. So I lie, “I never got any calls or messages.”
“Lies!” He sits back, laughing but it’s bitter. “I can’t believe after all this time you won’t tell me the truth.”
“I was young and crazy and irresponsible.” I shrug it off.
“You have never been irresponsible a day in your life,” he challenges.
“I drugged my husband with ketamine to get into his phone on Valentine’s Day.” I point back. “Then I got a kid to clone it to my phone.”
“I take it back. That is incredibly irresponsible.” He lifts his wine glass. “That’s a story I need to hear.”
“Okay.” I press my lips together and contemplate how to begin.
“First off, where did you get the ketamine?”
“It’s a long story. It goes back a couple of months before the ketamine.”
“Did you catch him—cheating? Was that your motivation?” he struggles with the questions.
“I did. Anyway, it started on Christmas Eve. My car, Helen—”
“You named your car after your aunt?” he says with a chuckle.
“You remember my aunt Helen?” That gives me pause.
“Of course.” His eyes narrow. “She caught us in your parents’ car on the road to Peggy’s Cove.”
“Oh my God, I think I blocked that out.” I gasp. My cheeks flush as I recall the moment. Clothes flying. Lips moving hungrily. Sweat and sunshine and suddenly my aunt Helen in the window checking to make sure I didn’t break down.
“Her face in the window still haunts me.” He takes a long drink, shaking his head with his gulp.
I cover my eyes and wait for the flush of red to go away. “That was so humiliating.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, so Christmas Eve . . .” I need to avoid sex talk with him. My fingers tremble, so I grab the wine and take a long drink and tell him the story. The whole thing. Maybe it’s easier because I know he understands infidelity and humiliation.
When I finish, he is sitting back, shaking his head slowly. “What an insane few months. I can’t believe you drugged him like that. That’s bold. So that’s why you moved in?”
“Yeah. And now I’m here, I’ve sent him the separation papers. By February of next year, I will be divorced, single, and hopefully happy.” I lift my glass. “To finding happiness.”
“Even if it doesn’t look like what you thought it would.” He clinks his glass against mine.
“What about you?” I ask, prying since I’ve bared my soul to him and the wine is starting to hit.
“Same thing. Except I would have been Rod’s best friend in the story. I came down with a serious case of food poisoning one day. A coworker drove me home from work early. I was pretty much shitting my pants and throwing up in a bucket.” He pauses, cringing. “She wasn’t expecting me to be there for hours. They were in our bed. I was so sick I walked right past them into the bathroom. When I woke on the floor hours later, she had packed everything she was taking.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Hearing it from him makes it much worse, even if he speaks as if it’s all water under the bridge now.
“And I’m sorry Rod was a huge loser who never deserved you.” He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, topping up my glass too. “But if there is one thing I have learned in all this, it’s that no amount of heartbreak can kill you. The heart is far more resilient than we give it credit for being.”
The way he says it and his eyes flicker to mine, I understand I am part of that heartbreak he has endured.
I hate that about myself.
By the time we finish the bottle, I’m tipsy from hardly eating all day and need to leave before I do something I’ll regret. I stand, making him stand.
He towers over me, his stare burning.
“Thanks for the catch up,” I say, though we really didn’t catch up. We sort of continued on from the moment our relationship ended all those years ago, joking and laughing with familiarity. Though now it lacks the ease it did before.
History is in the way of any chance of real comfort.
“I’m glad you came over,” he says and pauses. I suspect there is more on his tongue, but I can’t do this. Not with him.
“Me too,” I agree and walk into the apartment. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” I wave and go to the door.
“Lil,” he calls, coming into the apartment after me.
I turn, facing him.
We lock eyes, staring to the point I resign myself to where this is going. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to, though it will end in heartbreak again.
He swallows whatever he was about to say and lifts my wine glass. “Your glass.”
“Right.” I force a smile and reach out as we walk to each other.
A spark zings my fingertip when our skin touches as I take the glass from his hand.
He inhales sharply.
I’m certain he’s going to move, maybe even pounce, so I turn and hurry to the door. “I better get back to Liz. See you later.” I rush from the apartment and into mine, closing the door and leaning against it.
My heart is in my throat.
“Lil?” Liz calls.
“Coming!”
I take a few breaths to calm down before going to my sister’s aid.
But there is no calming down.
Not with Samuel Christianson next door.
Chapter 30
May 13
Sam interrupts my pacing with a knock on the door. I hurry for it, answering quickly. “Did you see her?” I practically shout at him.
“I did.” He smiles. “Liz is doing great. I saw her right before the surgery. She was—very ready,” he says with a laugh. “James said the moment it’s done he’s calling.” He pulls me into his arms and kisses me softly. “She’s going to be fine. We have next to no Covid cases in the entire province. This is her third child. She’s a relatively healthy woman.” He bends to pet Romeo who has sprinted from the room at the sound of Sam’s voice.
“She’s more than relatively healthy. Jesus. She is a runner when she’s not pregnant. And you know what?—your opinion on this sucks. You called her a geriatric pregnancy and I saw you side-eyeing the amount of Ben & Jerry’s she ate. She doesn’t handle bed rest. At all. She watched It’s a Wonderful Life three times in a row last week. She’s a mess.” I’m a mess.
“Right, okay. So that’s a sensitive subject.” He grins.
“This whole thing has me on edge.”
“You need to stay calm and wait. It’s normally a couple of hours before a mother is out of recovery. I wish I could stay up with you but I have to go to bed. I’m at the point of delirium.” He kisses me again and squeezes my hand. “I won’t sleep long. I don’t work again for a few days. Are you free later?” he jokes, knowing I am going nowhere.