in a voice so honey sweet you could smear it on toast. “You’ve been as excited as a little kid at the prospect of picking out furniture and toys. Don’t try to deny it.”
“Really?” I layer my own sugary sweetness atop Tracey’s. “I do need your help, David. I don’t know what little boys like these days.”
Then, because it’s the kind of guy David is, he gives in. “Yeah, yeah. Cut the bull. Jesus, you two going to gang up on me all the time now?”
“Probably,” Tracey says. “Now go. I’ll hold down the fort.”
DAVID IS DRIVING. HE HASN’T SAID A WORD TO ME, AND in spite of Tracey’s insistence that he wanted to help me pick out things for John-John, his attitude now is one of resentful indifference.
“So,” I say, deciding to break the silence when he obviously is not about to, “you and Tracey? Things seem to be going well.”
Silence.
“She’s a good match for you. Tough. Won’t let you get away with anything.”
Irritated sideways glance.
“I like her. It’s a big improvement from—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say her name.”
“Look, David. I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have brought Gl—”
“I. Said. Don’t. Say. Her. Name.”
Jesus. I shrink back into the seat. Either he and Tracey had a big fucking fight over Gloria last night or . . .
“Tell me you aren’t still in touch with her.”
David isn’t a good liar. Worse, he knows he’s not a good liar so he doesn’t try to be. He’s brutally honest. The fact that he’s not answering me is his way of not having to lie so that I won’t have to accuse him of lying.
“God, David. What about you and Tracey?”
“What about us?”
“She’s crazy about you. Does she know you’re seeing—” I catch myself before uttering the G-word. “She who cannot be named?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No. It’s not. It’s very simple. Shit. Now I know why you reacted the way you did yesterday. You’re cheating on Tracey.”
“I’m not cheating on anyone,” David snaps back. “I’m not exactly seeing—” A sideways glance to me. “You know. But she’s called me a few times. And we talk.”
“What’s a few times?”
A very pregnant pause while I drum my fingers impatiently on the dashboard and David pretends to be busy driving.
“David? How often do you speak with her?”
“Oh. Maybe three or four times.”
“Three or four times since you broke up?”
Color is flooding David’s face. “A week.”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” The words explode out in a howl of outrage so loud, David jumps. “Are you kidding me? After all she put you through with that murder investigation? She slept with the guy she was accused of killing, remember? She manipulated you and me and a goddamned fourteen-year-old kid to save her own skin. And you’re still in touch with her?”
David’s jaw is tight. His eyes are fixed straight ahead. His shoulders are bunched so tight that I think if I poked him in the arm, they’d shatter.
We’re pulling into the parking lot of an IKEA. David finds a space to park and it’s not until he’s shut off the engine that he says another word. Then he doesn’t turn to look at me, but simply says, “Look, Anna. We’re never going to agree about this. But you know me. I won’t break Tracey’s heart. She has nothing to worry about. You have nothing to worry about. Can we just let it go at that?”
Then he opens the door to the Hummer and jumps to the ground.
CHAPTER 4
IT’S NOT UNTIL WE’VE WOUND OUR WAY THROUGH A maze of living room, dining room, office and kitchen furniture to arrive at the “kids stuff” that David again acknowledges my presence. He’s standing in front of a bed shaped like a race car.
“I would have killed for a bed like this when I was a kid.” He’s running a hand over the frame. “It’s not too big for John-John, is it?”
His voice has lost the anger and bitterness of our conversation in the parking lot. I jump at the chance to smooth things over. “I think it’s perfect! And John-John makes Lego cars all the time.”
David has moved from the bed to an area with rugs and toys. He points to a rug laid out like a racetrack. “Get this, too, and those wooden cars. And that lamp and desk.”
He’s picking out things faster than I can write the item numbers on an order sheet. IKEA is a big warehouse with the displays in one area and the pickup in another. I start to laugh. “Hold on there, cowboy. I can’t keep up.”
But David has already moved onto sheets and towels and shower curtains. “That bedroom has its own bathroom, doesn’t it?” he asks. When I nod, he starts loading our shopping cart with sheets and towels and a brightly color-splashed shower curtain.
In less than an hour, we have everything. I’ve never seen David move so fast. I follow along, caught in the undertow of his enthusiasm. It’s a side of David new to me. A side I would not have expected.
When we’ve had everything loaded into the back of the Hummer, and are on our way to my place, I risk igniting the firestorm again.
“What do you and Gloria talk about?” I ask softly.
I wait, shoulders bunched, for the explosion. Instead, David says, “Mostly how her career’s going. Where she’s going on location next. Who she’s dating . . .”
Sounds like Gloria. There’s Gloria and then there’s the world. “Does she ever ask about what
“Of course she does,” he replies with more than a hint of impatience. “Why do you always assume the worst about her?”
I grunt. Let me count the ways. But instead, I say, “I worry about you where Gloria is concerned. She seems to have some mystical hold on you I’ve never been able to figure out.”
He glances sideways at me. “You mean besides the fact that she’s beautiful, famous, rich, an international star and sex with her was—”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “TMI.” At least he didn’t say sex with her
He raises his shoulders in a half shrug. “I told you. I won’t hurt Tracey. Gloria is fantasy. Tracey is real. Someone I can rely on to be honest. Someone I can count on.”
I shake my head. Does he even know how demeaning that sounds? “Do you think you’re being fair to Tracey?”
His jaw sets. “I’ve always been honest with Tracey. I’ve never promised her more than I can deliver.”
“Maybe not in words, but I see the way she looks at you.”
He shrugs again. But we’re pulling into the back of the cottage and I have to jump out to open the gate before he can answer. Then we’re busy with boxes and packages and I get caught up in the excitement of tackling John-John’s room.
