to Ryan’s message again. I dial into my voicemail and press the button to replay old messages. Soon I hear Ryan’s familiar voice telling me he was in New York last week.
I put the phone away and walk into the living room. I find Ryan examining the framed pictures of my family that stand on the coffee table. “Your sister looks just like you,” he comments.
I smile sadly, still tingling from the feeling of his arms around me. “That was a friend on the phone,” I begin. “She’s having a crisis. I kind of need to go over there.”
I can see that it takes a minute for my words to register. “You mean right now?” he asks, his disbelief obvious.
I nod my head.
“You couldn’t make an excuse?”
“No. She’s a good friend.”
He hangs his head and rests his hands on his narrow hips. “Well, I guess that speaks well of you and your commitment to your friends.”
“I really am sorry.”
He moves close to me and slowly brings his hands to either side my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs as he tells me, “We’ll have to reschedule then.”
I nod my response, and he halts my nodding by putting his lips to mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I hear him groan with what sounds like frustration before he steps back and releases me completely.
I think I sway for a second before I finally get a hold of myself and turn to pick up my purse. Ryan follows me out outside and waits while I lock the door behind me. Then he lingers beside me, smoothing my hair, rubbing my back, and kissing me softly one last time before we move away from the doorway and head toward our cars.
“Where did you say you went again on your business trip last week?” I hear myself say as I lead him down the walkway. The minute the words leave my mouth I know I’m ruining things, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“What?” he asks
“Where did you go on your business trip last week?” I repeat, turning to face him, keeping my expression neutral.
He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me curiously. “Chicago. I told you.”
“In your message you said you were in New York.”
“What message?”
“The message you left me on Labor Day. In it, you said you were in New York last week.”
“Well,” he shrugs. “I was in Chicago. I was in New York a few weeks ago. I must have said New York by mistake.”
I nod at his answer, not sure if I can believe it.
He eyes me carefully. “What are you thinking, Andrea?”
“Nothing,” I say. I really want to believe him, but a nagging voice inside me tells me not be naive. This is his second strike.
“Have you been wondering about this since dinner? When you first asked me about my trip?”
“No, I didn’t remember your message until later.”
His jaw clenches and a muscle jumps in his cheek. His eyes narrow at me, and I can see he’s angry. “Do you really have a friend who is suddenly having a crisis?” he asks.
I gape at him, anger flaring through me. “Of course I do.”
He stares at me, his eyes challenging and dark. Then he glances away and shakes his head slowly. He opens his mouth to say something and stops, clamping it shut again as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. With his eyes back on mine again, he closes the small distance between us.
I stare up at him not knowing what to expect.
“Goodnight, Andrea” he says quietly. But his calm voice is betrayed by the hurt expression on his face. Then he walks to his car, slips inside, and drives away without glancing at me again.
My tense shoulders slump under the weight of growing regret as I watch his car disappear down the road.
Once I pull into a dimly lit guest parking space in front of Katie’s brick apartment building, I grab a tissue from my purse and wipe at the wet tracks trailing down my cheeks. I’m not sure what bothers me more, the fact that I suspect Ryan is lying and I probably would have slept with him anyway if Katie hadn’t called, or the fact that I accused him of lying when in fact he may not have been. If he travels a lot, I suppose he could have mistakenly said New York when he meant Chicago. In my mind, I keep seeing his expression darken as he realizes what