“But it still amounts to sending an ex-husband mixed signals.”
She had made clear her reason for calling Dutch for help. Why should she care whether Tierney believed her? She told herself she didn’t, but actually his criticism stung. She glanced down at her wristwatch without really registering the time. “It’s getting late.”
“You’re angry.”
“No, I’m tired.” She pulled her handbag off the coffee table and onto her lap, then began rifling through it.
“I spoke out of turn.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “Yes, Tierney. You did.”
Rather than being conciliatory and apologetic, which she expected, he spoke tightly. “Well, too damn bad, Lilly. Want to know why I’ve stayed on this hearth instead of joining you on the sofa? Want to know why I did nothing to comfort you, didn’t come up there and hold you, while you cried over Amy? Only because I’m as confused as Dutch seems to be over how you feel about him.”
She opened her mouth to speak but found no words. Lowering her gaze, she fiddled with the clasp of her handbag. “I don’t want Dutch back in my life,” she said slowly. “Not in any capacity. But I suppose my feelings are ambiguous. I wish him well. He was a football hero, you know. Usually scored the touchdown that cinched the win. That’s what I wish for him now.”
“A touchdown?”
“A big score. This job in Cleary has given him a fresh start. He has an opportunity to reestablish himself as a good cop. More than anything I want him to succeed here.”
“More than anything,” Tierney repeated thoughtfully. “That’s a strong statement.”
“And I mean it.”
“Then I suppose you would help him any way you could to ensure his success.”
“Absolutely. Unfortunately, there’s really nothing I can do.”
“You may be surprised.”
With that cryptic statement, he got up, muttered something about needing to be excused, and walked through the bedroom, presumably heading for the bathroom.
Lilly watched him go, feeling out of sorts and a bit let down, as though her therapist had cut her appointment short, leaving her with more to say. She was glad that Tierney already knew about Amy, putting them past the difficult part. It was a clumsy topic to introduce into conversation with someone you were just getting to know. You didn’t just announce it, although she was often tempted to in order to avoid the inevitable Do you have children? Which led to the necessary explanation, followed by the mandatory Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Which made the other party feel awkward and embarrassed.
At least she and Tierney had skipped that uncomfortable exchange. She’d also appreciated his not blathering a lot of platitudes or asking a lot of questions about how she’d felt about it when how she’d felt about it should have been obvious. He was an exceptionally good listener.
But his preoccupation with Dutch and her present relationship with him was beginning to grate. Dutch was no longer a factor in her life. But apparently Tierney wasn’t convinced of that.
And if he’d wanted to know how she would react if he took her in his arms and held her, why hadn’t he done so and found out, instead of using Dutch as an excuse not to?
“You’ve been plowing through that purse for five minutes.” He was back. She hadn’t realized he was standing at the end of the sofa, watching her, until he spoke. “What are you looking for?”
“My medication.”
“Medication?”
“For asthma. I picked it up at Ritt’s yesterday. He, by the way,” she said sourly, “is the worst offender when it comes to gossip. While I was there yesterday to pick up a prescription refill, William Ritt asked a dozen leading questions about Dutch and me, our divorce, the sale of this place. He even asked how much we got for it. Can you believe that?
“Maybe he was just being friendly, but I can’t help thinking . . . that . . . uh . . .” Distracted by the search through her handbag, she let her voice trail off. Impatiently, she upended the handbag and dumped everything in it onto the coffee table.
There was the makeup bag where she’d found the manicure scissors earlier, her wallet and checkbook, a pack of tissues, a roll of breath mints, cell phone charger, security pass for her office building in Atlanta, key ring, sunglasses, hand soap.
Everything was there except what she needed.
Dismayed, she looked up at Tierney. “It’s not here.”
CHAPTER
10