“You and me. There are a lot of people who will dismiss it right out of hand.”
“Because . . .”
“Because they know what I am. I mean, I’ve considered doing something like this before, maybe one day even taking a wife. God knows it would make my mother happy. She’s still sitting there, in Champaign, Illinois, desperately wondering when I’ll find a nice girl and have a family. I would love to have a family. But too many people would see through it.” He looked at me briefly as he drove. “Just as I’m afraid too many people will see through this.”
I looked out my window at the palm trees swaying at their tops.
“So we make it undeniable,” I said.
The thing I liked about Harry was that he was never one step behind me.
“Photos,” he said. “Of the two of us.”
“Yeah. Candids, looking like we’ve been caught at something.”
“Isn’t it easier for you just to pick someone else?” he said.
“I don’t want to get to know someone else,” I said. “I’m sick of trying to pretend I’m happy. At least with you, I’ll be pretending to love someone I really do love.”
Harry was quiet for a moment. “I think you should know something,” he said finally.
“OK.”
“Something I’ve thought I should tell you for some time.”
“OK, tell me.”
“I’ve been seeing John Braverman.”
My heart started beating quickly. “Celia’s John Braverman?”
Harry nodded.
“For how long?”
“A few weeks.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should.”
“So their marriage is . . .”
“Fake,” Harry said.
“She doesn’t love him?” I asked.
“They sleep in separate beds.”
“Have you seen her?”
Harry didn’t answer at first. He looked as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. But I had no patience for perfect words.
“Harry, have you seen her?”
“Yes.”
“How does she seem?” I asked, and then thought of a better question, one more pressing. “Did she ask about me?”