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My cell phone rings. I practically fly out of my chair at the sound. It’s the first time in two days that it’s rung and, after all this time of begging and pleading with it to ring, it finally is.

Thank God. Jake has come to his senses. He’s ready to talk it out. He’s forgiven me.

I reach for my phone, lying facedown on the table. I flip it over and look at the name on the display, expecting it to say Jake. My heart sinks. It’s not Jake. It’s our friend Damien.

I answer the call, though my first instinct is not to answer, but to leave the phone free for if Jake calls. But maybe Damien knows something that I don’t. If Jake would sleep on anyone’s sofa, it’s Damien’s.

“Hi, Damien,” I say.

“Hey, Nina. I’m sorry to bother you,” he says.

“You’re no bother,” I tell him. “You’re never a bother. How’s Anna?” I move from the kitchen table to the butler’s pantry for the wine fridge. I pull out a chilled bottle of white and pour myself a generous glass, lifting it to my mouth without putting the bottle away. My nerves are frayed. I balance the phone on my shoulder, bringing both the open bottle and the glass back to the table with me.

Damien’s excitement is palpable. “She’s pregnant!” he announces, and I’m so happy for Damien and Anna because they’ve been trying to get pregnant for years. It wasn’t happening. It was one failed attempt after another. They went through fertility drugs, and then artificial insemination. Damien and Anna were always very candid with Jake and me about the process and the struggle, mainly, I think, because Jake is a doctor and because we’re their only friends without kids. It was easier to talk to us about it than with other friends. Jake and I are at that point in our lives where almost everyone we know has or is having kids, except us.

The last I heard, Damien and Anna were trying in vitro, which is obscenely expensive. They don’t have the income for it. The cost alone was almost enough to make them give up. They had agreed they would try one time, but that they didn’t have the savings to go for it more than once.

“That’s amazing!” I say. “I’m so happy for you both.” I am happy for them, so happy, though I have to force the enthusiasm into my voice because I’m not in a happy place myself.

“You want to hear the best news?”

“What could be better than that?” I ask.

“Twins. It’s twins, Nina.”

I feel so happy for them. Anna is amazing, the kind of woman who radiates kindness and warmth. “Anna will make the best mom,” I tell him. “She was born to be a mother. How far along is she?”

“Thirteen weeks. It was mum’s the word until after her first trimester, but now I’m stopping strangers on the street to tell them.”

I smile. I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Listen,” he says. “Is everything okay with Jake?”

I have to catch my breath. “Why?” I ask.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of him since Monday morning, but he hasn’t returned my texts. It’s not like him.” Damien waits as if I should say something, but I’m at a loss for words. “Anyway,” he says in response to my silence, “I’m just wondering if he’s there and, if so, if you could put him on for me? It will only take a second.”

“Jake isn’t here,” I say, slightly stunned that Jake wouldn’t answer Damien’s texts either.

“No?” he asks.

“No. He’s not. He’s at work,” I say because I don’t know what else to say. It’s not a lie. It’s seven now. It’s a surgery day. Jake is at work. It’s crossed my mind to go to the hospital and make him talk to me, but I worried that would make things worse. When Jake is ready to talk, he’ll come to me.

“Of course he is. Could you tell him I called? Could you ask him to call me back?” Damien says that he wants to tell Jake the good news, about his and Anna’s babies. Damien and Jake are incredibly close. They went to college together. They were in the same fraternity. They’ve been friends for two decades. Damien was Jake’s best man at our wedding, and Jake was the best man at theirs. He gave the the most hilarious speech. He had people doubled over, laughing. I still remember it, though sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago, like an entirely different Jake, one who was more happy and carefree. Still, I can’t understand why Jake wouldn’t answer Damien’s calls or texts when it’s me he’s mad at.

“Yes, of course I will,” I say, short of breath because of how fast my heart is beating. “He’s just been so busy at work,” I say, feeling like I need to make excuses for Jake’s behavior. I reach for my glass and take another long sip, and then reach for the bottle and top off the glass.

Damien and I say our goodbyes. I promise again to tell Jake to call him. Easier said than done.

I can’t tell Jake anything when he won’t speak to me.

CHRISTIAN

In the middle of the night, I shake Lily awake.

“Hmm?” she asks, half-conscious.

“What’d you do with the rock?”


Tags: Mary Kubica Mystery