over a bonfire. She felt almost woozy with excitement from Keaton’s last look.
As she tugged open the door, her mind pleaded—please let him be there. And he was. He stood in the lounge, glancing at the screen of his phone. As she emerged he looked up and smiled—as if this were just a chance meeting. God, she thought, the guy had all the moves down.
“So, how were things at your end?” he asked. “You had the pleasure of sitting next to Dr. Thomas Levin, fertility rock star.”
There was an odd edge to his words.
“He’s an interesting guy,” Lake said. “Was he the main reason you chose this practice—because of his reputation?”
“Good question. But one that may be moot at this point.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s been a little snag in the plan. This may not be the best place for me after all.”
“Wait—you’re not joining the clinic?” Lake asked, completely taken aback.
“You sound sorry,” Keaton said, his voice teasing.
“Well, I’m sorry if you’re in any kind of a difficult situation.”
“You know what would take the sting out?” he said with a smile. She knew what was coming.
“What?” she asked quietly.
“Having a drink later with you. Without all the other revelers.”
“I’d like that,” she said. Her boldness surprised her.
“Why don’t you come to my place,” he said. “It’s just around the corner—at 78 Crosby. I’ll leave first and you can head over after.”
A drink at his place. She could no longer have any doubts about where this was going. Her heart pounded as she thought about being with him and what it would be like to completely let go. If she didn’t take advantage of this moment, who knew when she’d be able to risk something like this again. Once the kids were back home, she would have to play the nun as Hotchkiss had advised.
“All right,” she replied, “sounds good.”
He smiled again and slipped into the men’s room without a word.
“So, Jack, how’s that for spontaneity?” Lake thought as she started up the stairs.
3
THE COFFEE WAS being served when she returned to the table. As she took a sip of her cappuccino, Keaton slipped back into his seat. At the same moment she saw Steve give his wife a let’s-get-out-of-here look, but Hilary pretended not to notice. The group suddenly grew quiet.
“This has been a terrific night,” Keaton announced to the table. “I really appreciate your doing this in my honor.”
“Well, we’re thrilled to have you with us,” Dr. Hoss said, her chin raised. For Hoss the comment was positively effusive. She had the manner of someone who’d grown up affluent and never felt the need to simply make nice.
“Would anyone care for an after-dinner drink?” Levin asked. He made it sound less like an invitation than a signal that the evening needed to come to an end.
“I’m afraid I should get home,” Keaton said. “Would you excuse me for bolting now? I have a call to make to a patient on the West Coast.”
As he stood and said goodbye, he grabbed Lake’s eyes briefly, and to her dismay, she saw Hilary catch the look and weigh it. The last thing Lake wanted was any gossip. She took her time leaving, waiting until Levin paid the check and hanging back until all but Dr. Perkins and his wife remained.
“Which way are you going?” Perkins asked Lake as they walked toward the front of the restaurant with her.
“Upper West Side,” she said, praying they were bound for some Jersey suburb, which would require them to head for the Holland Tunnel.
“We’re on Central Park West. You’re welcome to share our taxi.”
“Oh, thank you, no. I need to stop at a deli.”
“Well, at least let us drop you part of the way,” Perkins said.
“Thank you, but you go ahead,” Lake urged, ready to bite their heads off. “I have to make a call first anyway.”
Lake rustled in her purse, faking a search for her cell phone. After giving them two minutes, she headed outside, her trench coat flung over her arm. Glancing at her watch, she saw that close to fifteen minutes had passed since Keaton’s departure, and she suddenly felt frantic to get going.
She swung left outside the restaurant and hurried along Spring Street. It was only when she reached Broadway that she realized she’d gone the wrong way. Cursing, she dashed back to the restaurant and then up to Crosby. On a hunch, she turned left, crossing the street.
A few doors up the dark, canyon-like street she saw by the numbers that