“That’s what Thomas said too—he looked at your mom and was shocked at how much she looked like his mom. But he felt a connection when she looked at you—at him—and then when she said his name he knew she felt the connection too. He just knew it.”
Derek studied her face carefully, looking for some hint that this might still be an elaborate practical joke. If not, what was it? She met his gaze, and they locked eyes.
“What is your game?” he asked.
“It’s not a game.”
“Whatever it is, it’s pretty good,” he said. “Except for one thing. There’s an orderly on her floor named Thomas. As we walked to the elevator she said hi to him. Did your Thomas tell you that?”
“No, he didn’t. Don’t tell me you’re still holding out on me, Derek! That orderly is irrelevant, he wasn’t in the room when you spoke to your mother. No one was, except you and her. Now how could I possibly know all the intimate details of a conversation that only you and your mother shared? How could I know what your sister said to you on the phone?”
“I don’t know. You’re not the type to hack a phone line, you wouldn’t have the skill set. But you could have hired someone—tapping into a cordless is easy as tuning into a radio. Or you could listen in by putting your ear to our common wall here—I’m loud when I’m on the phone, and I pretty much repeated the conversation to my sister when I got home. Or maybe you’ve drilled a hole through the wall, or hidden a mini-cam. Maybe you’ve hired a private detective to stake me out, tail me across town. I’ve seen the movies, I know what lengths an obsessive female will go to, to ferret out a man’s secrets.”
“What reason could I have to obsess about you?” Meghan cried in exasperation. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Have you looked at how you live? Have you looked at where you live? You know what this room screams to me? Three things—cockroaches, bedbugs, and head lice. All harmoniously coexisting in perfect, squalid harmony. I’m sorry, Derek, squalor is not attractive, to me or to any other woman on the planet.”
“I have no trouble finding women, thank you very much.”
“Right. You bring them in at two a.m. and they’re out by three. But this is all beside the point. The point is, I came over here with what I thought was clear and obvious proof, thinking you’d finally have to accept the truth—why can’t you face up to it?”
“Put it this way,” he said. “I’d prefer if you turned out to be just plain old-fashioned nuts. It’s not even pejorative. More like welcome to the club.”
“I’m not nuts,” she answered. She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry I got my back up. I’m the guest here, the one intruding into your space, your life, and it’s not my place…” She hesitated, like a high jumper staring at the bar, visualizing what it would take to make the leap. After all the cutting things she’d said to him just now he stood before her without malice. He still looked upon her with an open, unguarded face, willing to hear her out. She felt her nerve almost fail her, and then she spoke. “In your mother’s room there’s a photo. Of your wife and child. They’re dead.”
“I see.” Derek’s eyes showed a flicker of bewilderment. “Why didn’t you just tell me about that, right off the bat, instead of all the minor details first? Why pussyfoot around?”
“I felt like I don’t know you well enough.” She wondered if she saw a tear at the corner of his eye. He brought a finger up to touch it. She herself felt like crying.
She looked at his smooth, honest face. He said, “It’s true. I found a great woman and I married her. And we had a lovely little girl. It’s not a secret I keep hidden, but I’m surprised you know about it.” His words, and the casual, matter-of-fact way he delivered them, left Meghan a little at a loss.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry.” He stared at her evenly, with just a hint of defiance. “The wound has healed, Meghan. What you’re seeing are the scars.”
She had an instinct to comfort him, to touch his arm, but something in his eyes kept her at a distance.
“I’m going to go. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy and