Page 34 of Wicked Games

And what was that about me? She knew Darren and I were having trouble and that it was because of my infertility, even if I don’t like calling it that. I thought I’d kept our issues from her, but apparently she knew the truth and blamed him for it too.

I sigh. Now what?

Fuck.

I glance through the glass doors to Seth’s house, but I don’t see him. I said I’d write on the dock later, but the more time I spend here and the more time I spend with him, the less I have to write about. Rehashing Darren leaving me isn’t interesting, and everyone else is tired of reading about it too. Falling in love? I am, a little. The pull of it, the chemistry Seth and I have. The way he just held me last night and this morning with no moves to spread my legs. It was nice waking up without dreading he was going to put me to work.

A summer fling.

I let that flit around in my head, the idea not exactly uncomfortable, but not a good fit, either. I’m not sure how I would take it, will take it, once the summer’s over and Seth says, “It’s been fun. Have a nice life.” While the thought’s in my head, I grab my notebook and muse onto the paper. A summer fling. With one of the richest men in the country, though that hasn’t meant anything here. The months he’ll be in Lakehaven Falls will be completely different compared to how he lives in Ashfield. I could fall in love with the man he is here and hate the man he turns into in the city. Or, thinking ahead, I could love the man he is now, while he’s grieving, and hate the man he turns into once those wounds scar over.

Be honest with yourself. Those are just excuses, things people tell themselves when they’re too afraid to say how they feel. I might be falling in love, but Bill’s idea that I’m Seth’s rebound is probably truer than I want to admit and I should guard my heart. Let him give me back the pieces Darren stole from me. And then . . . miss the pieces Seth will take when we part ways at the end of August.

No matter what I do, it seems I can’t win and the best thing would be to just enjoy the summer, don’t put any meaning into Seth’s kisses, and when I go back to Ashfield, figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Move to California to be closer to my parents, or move to New York, though I’d have to get a job to support myself if I did that. Julianne would help me, maybe give me a position at Bloomscene, and my idea that I could meet a book editor or an agent and fall in love comes back. I have a lot to choose from, and there’s no rush to decide. It’s just unsettling not to see my path anymore.

I read over what I wrote, but only parts are publishable. I can’t mention Seth by name, only that I unexpectedly met someone and I don’t know what to do about it. That maybe I wasn’t ready to meet someone and because I’m newly divorced and still hurting, the timing’s bad. That’s not a lie, and over the next hour, I shape my written wonderings into a piece for Bloomscene. It’s the type of essay Julianne likes to print, and she’ll be happy my article has a different slant, perhaps more positive than they have been, though pain equals profit and no one can tell you that better than Hattie.

I transcribe my scribbles and send the Word document to Julianne. My email inbox has a few things in it, but I don’t care enough to look through them right now. The tab I left open with the backend of Hattie’s website jabs at me, and I grab my cell. There’s only one way to know if Hattie was at Elmwood Park that day.

Bill answers on the second ring. “Hey, what are you up to?”

“Hi. Nothing much. How are things with you?”

“Same. You know. I keep thinking she’s going to walk out of the kitchen holding a glass of wine and ask what I want for dinner. We weren’t married for very long, but Christ, it’s amazing how someone can just—” He stops and sighs. “I shouldn’t be complaining. You and Darren were together for fifteen years.”

I lean back in my chair. “Which do you think hurts worse?”

“Hell if I know. It all hurts.”

“Yeah, but you really loved Hattie, and toward the end, I just felt betrayed.” I pause. “I have a question to ask you.”

“Sure. I tried to get into Hattie’s laptop but I can’t guess her password and her Touch ID wouldn’t take my fingerprint. I logged in as a guest but that didn’t do anything. If she has something on there, we’re not going to find out unless the cops decide to bust into it. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“No, but thanks. Did you find her notebook?”

“No. Not the one she brought with her when she talked to her sources. I found others, old ones she filled up that she didn’t want to get rid of, but not her current one. It was probably in her purse, Avery.”

“Well, hopefully whoever has it now won’t be able to do anything with it. I looked through her drafts, and a lot of it seemed pretty harmless.”

“Nothing’s harmless when you’re a target. She had plenty of enemies. Scroll through her blog, close your eyes, and point. Anyone she wrote about could have decided the revenge was worth it.”

“That’s true, but she’s been doing this for years. I really don’t know.”

“We’re not going to. It’s probably for the best you just accept that.”

“Maybe you’re right. While I was reading her drafts, I thought of something. Where was she on President’s Day?”

Bill pauses. “President’s Day? You mean in February?”

“Yeah. Just curious.”

“You should know.”

The churning in my stomach comes back. “Why would I know?”

“Because she said she was going shopping with you. I remember it quite clearly. She said there were sales you didn’t want to miss.”

I remember the day quite clearly too, and I wasn’t shopping with my sister. The university didn’t have classes that day, and Darren and I went to brunch at a restaurant not far from campus. We didn’t talk about anything, our marriage over by then, though it would be two more months before he actually left. Then we went home and he locked himself in his study and I sat in the living room and read. That night we went to a friend’s for dinner and drinks. I didn’t hear from Hattie at all and I certainly didn’t see her.