him everything. I had forgiven him for things, and he would forgive me, too.
I’d tell him over eggs and coffee. It wasn’t moonlight and roses, but it was our kind of romance, and it would be perfect.
I padded down to the kitchen and got out the eggs. I put the bread into the slots of the toaster. Measured out the coffee. I heard his footsteps, heard the door open behind me, then close. I broke the eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork.
“Where’s that milk?” I called.
Billy didn’t answer.
“Billy?” I turned and he was looking down at the paper, barefoot in his army pants and T-shirt, the milk bottle tucked under one arm. I was so happy that I did a little shimmy, just like Lauren Bacall does at the end of that movie where she knows Bogart loves her and they’re going to get off the island, escape the Nazis, and be together.
He didn’t smile. The milk bottle slipped out from underneath his arm and crashed to the floor.
“Don’t move,” I said. “The glass —”
He walked toward me, right over the glass. He flipped the paper so that I could read the headline. He shoved it up against my face and at first I couldn’t focus.
NATE’S MOLL Is LIDO DOLL
On the front page was a photograph of me and Nate dancing. The photographer had snapped the picture just as Nate had leaned closer to talk to me. It looked as though we were staring into each other’s eyes, but I knew I was pushing against his chest, wanting distance between us.
The night in the lounge, the flashbulb popping… I thought they were taking pictures of the stars.
Dread dropped in my stomach, a cold, cold stone. “Billy, you can’t think that I —”
“It says he pays for this apartment.”
“Let’s sit down and talk. Billy, your foot! You’re bleeding.”
“It says he pays for you!” He suddenly punched through the paper, making me cry out and jump back. “Is it true? This is his ‘love nest'?” He spit out the words with contempt.
“No!”
“How do you afford it, then? Was I so stupid? That you’d make that much as a chorus girl? Enough for your fancy clothes and this place?”
“Just listen…”
“I’m listening!”
“He does pay for it, but —”
His face was clenched, every muscle tense. “Is this why you keep putting me off?”
“I’m not! I was going to tell you this morning, I want to get married —”
“What did you do yesterday? Did you see him? Is that why you couldn’t see me? Did you see him? Did you?“
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t lie. “Billy, just listen. If we could just sit down —”
He walked past me toward the bedroom, leaving bloody footprints behind. I followed him, grabbing a dish towel for his foot.
When I reached the bedroom, he’d pulled on his shirt and was reaching for his socks.
“Let me help you,” I said, crying now, the dread moving up to my throat, choking my words. I couldn’t seem to catch a breath. “Please, let me help you.”
I went toward him with the towel, but he jerked away. He pulled on his sock and I saw blood staining it, spreading outward in a bloom of dark red.
“This apartment — it’s for you and me,” I explained, the words tumbling out as fast as I could push them. “He came to see me, he said if you had something to come back to, it would keep you safe. He said he wasn’t against our marriage anymore. I’m not his… moll, or whatever they’re saying. How could you believe that? You said you’d trust me, Billy!”
He thrust his arms into his shirt. Suddenly, he jack-knifed forward, his head in his hands. He pressed his hands against his temples. His shoulders shook. He let out a wrenching sob, and the sound was the most terrible thing I’d ever heard.
Alarmed, I touched him gently. “Billy —”
He twisted away and kicked out at me. “Keep your hands off me!” he screamed. His mouth was pulled out of shape, his eyes wet with tears.
I backed against the wall. “Please,” I whispered.
His fingers shook as he jammed his foot into his boot.
I fell to my knees. “You have to believe me.”
“Believe you?” With an outstretched arm, he swept my cosmetics off the bureau, my lipstick and rouge and powder. The silver compact skidded across the rug. He stood for a moment, weaving, looking down at the lipstick and the compact, the powder spilled on the floor. “My God,”