what Ed had said. He was right that she couldn’t control him. Picking up her phone, she sent him a text.
I’m so sorry about the inappropriate things I said to you in the garage. Please forgive me. You were right about everything. I can’t control you. I don’t want to control you. I’m just freaked out about the cancer and the possibility that I won’t conceive.
She waited for him to answer, finally getting coffee, and then showering. But there was still no word from Rich.
Chapter 8
Office hours were a necessity; you had to see the patients before you could schedule their surgeries. Alison was scheduled to see patients in the office on Monday, and it took an act of her will to get there on time. Just getting out of bed was a monumental task. If she hadn’t lost the day to her crappy hemoglobin the previous June, she would have called out sick. Checking her phone first thing for a message from Rich, there was nothing. After the text, she tried to call him, again nothing.
Vacillating between anger and heartbreak, she wondered if they had reached the end of their relationship. Six months and they were finished. She grabbed her lab coat out of the back seat just as her phone rang. It was Rich.
“I left my phone at home.”
“Rich, no way.” She was disgusted and relieved at the same time.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m at work in between cases.”
“I tried texting and calling and nothing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I slept all day yesterday.”
“I went to my aunt’s and ate like a pig again.”
“Good. You needed it, Alison.”
“I’d better get inside.”
“Okay. I’ll call you later. I’m going to come down tonight and get my phone.”
Closing her eyes, she made it an act of her will not to weep. “Okay, I’ll see you then. I’ll have dinner if you can stay. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll spend the night and leave at five tomorrow. We’ll just have to go to bed early. Is it too late for baby night?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll take the test.”
“Okay, good. Love you, Alison. Talk later.”
“Yes, talk later, Rich. Love you, too.”
Taking a deep breath, she smiled. All was well, for the time being.
He called her again in between cases and was able to leave LA at four, so he’d be home earlier than usual. Hurrying through the afternoon, she got home before he did and took a quick shower. Thanks to her aunt, she wouldn’t have to cook for a week. There were leftovers from Saturday he could have.
Then she remembered. His phone was there somewhere. It wasn’t in the bedroom. In the living room, she searched around and found it down in the couch cushions. Looking at the time, it was almost six. She quickly went to his messages, and there she was. Tiffany Adams. Alison read backwards, her heart beating so hard she felt sick.
Hey! Why didn’t you answer my text?
Lights flashed, and she heard the garage door opening. Quickly, she did screenshots of all the messages, sent them to herself, and then deleted Tiffany’s messages, the screenshots, and the messages she’d just sent to herself, and as he walked in the door, she threw the phone back on the couch.
Hysteria rose, and she wanted to laugh like a crazy woman. Instead, she directed it as happiness to see him, throwing her arms around his shoulders, kissing him.
“You’re home!”
“Yes, I’m home. I’m sorry about leaving Sunday. That was awful.”
“Just forget it for now,” she said. “It’s done with. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving,” he said. “Is there any more of the ham and potato salad?”
“I literally have anything you could want.”
He looked up at the ceiling for a second. “Instead of ham, Philly cheese steak.”
“You won’t believe it, but she had a Philly cheese steak casserole yesterday, and I brought some home. One of the cousins’ wives made it.”
“Can I stuff it in a roll?”
“You can try,” she said, laughing.
They made their plates up and took them into the living room to watch the news while they ate, the antithesis of everything they had wanted to do during dinner.
“Oh, my phone,” he said, sitting on it.
She held her breath a little bit, hoping he wouldn’t start looking at his messages right away. If he expected Tiffany to text him, she’d have to admit she’d deleted them, but hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
“So are you fertile?” he asked.
“I did a test, and the hormones are dropping, but I should still be