David thinks about it and though I expect him to stick to his snobbish ways, he doesn’t. “Okay, you’re right. I’m starting from scratch here so I guess we should begin with the basics.”
I change direction to head for the highway and Wal-Mart. “I should make a list,” David says. “Do you have anything I can write on?”
“Look in my purse,” I tell him.
He grabs my purse, rummages around, and comes up with a pen and the small spiral notepad from the Chicago trip. “What’s all this?” he says, flipping the pages of the pad and reading my notes.
Panicked, I reach over and grab the pad from him. “Those are notes on the investigation I’m working on.” I rip all the pages with writing on them out of the pad, including the one that has Hurley’s number on it, cursing myself for not destroying it earlier. Then I hand the pad back to him.
“Why do you have two cell phones?” he asks, peering into my purse.
I think fast. “Um, I temporarily misplaced my regular phone and had to get one of those prepaid ones. It still has minutes on it so I haven’t tossed it yet.”
“I need a phone,” he says, taking both of them out of my purse. “Can I use the prepaid one until I get mine replaced?”
“No!”
He gives me a shocked look. “Okay already. I was just asking.” He drops the phones and tosses my purse aside.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “It’s just that I don’t want to give up the other one in case someone who has that number tries to call me, not knowing I have my original back.” The story sounds plausible to me and I pray it will for David, too. “We’ll get you a new cell phone tonight. I’m pretty sure Wal-Mart has them now.”
A little over four hours later, David and I arrive back at the cottage, both of us exhausted but happy and full. After a sweeping run through Wal-Mart, where I found I actually enjoyed dressing David like some adult version of a Ken doll, we had dinner at a Mexican restaurant in a nearby town before heading home. David stuck to his word about keeping the conversation neutral and I found myself actually enjoying his company as we reminisced about things in our past and had a civil but rousing discussion about health care reform. Several times during the evening things felt so much like the old days, I forgot that we were no longer a couple. Now the resultant emotions are seriously screwing with my head.
We carry our packages inside, where Hoover greets me with a gentle whuff and a happily wagging tail. After giving David a cursory sniff, he dismisses him and comes back to me. I leave David to his unpacking and take Hoover outside to do his business.
While I’m standing outside watching Hoover sniff and circle to find the perfect spot, I hear a door open behind me. When I turn to look, I see Izzy approaching.
“Hey, Izzy.”
“Hay is for horses,” he says. “Dom told me the news about David.”
“Yeah, I should probably have my head examined for agreeing to it, but he and Molinaro basically cornered and guilted me into it.”
“Wow, he got Molinaro involved?” I nod. “Devious move on his part. He knows how much you fear that woman.”
“I’m only going to let him stay for a couple of days. Just until Thanksgiving. We’re already committed to the dinner with my mother and William so I might as well let him stay till then.”
“Dom wants me to invite you both over for breakfast in the morning. That is, unless the two of you need some time alone together.”
I shoot him a look that makes him back up a step and hold his fingers up in the sign of the cross. “It was a joke,” he says.
“Tell Dom thanks and we’ll be there, or at least I will. David may opt to do something else.”
“Let me ask you something, Mattie.”
Uh-oh, I know that tone. It means something serious is coming. Has Izzy figured out that I’m keeping secrets from him?
“Have you considered going for marriage counseling with David?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons. One, I hate shrinks, particularly after our experience with Luke Nelson,” I say, referring to a recent case. “And two, there’s no need for counseling. I’m not confused about what I want at this point, or rather what I don’t want. I don’t want David and I don’t want my marriage back.”
“Are you sure the situation with Hurley isn’t clouding your judgment?”
For a second I feel a frisson of panic, thinking he’s discovered I’m in cahoots with Hurley on this latest investigation. But what he says next makes me realize his true meaning.
“I mean, there’s an obvious attraction between you and Hurley. Anyone who’s spent any time around the two of you can see that. And I can’t help but wonder if that isn’t clouding your judgment some. If you take him out of the equation, which you’re going to have to do now, are you sure being on your own is what you really want?”
I watch Hoover squat and take a dump, his haunches quivering with his efforts. And I think about what Izzy is saying. Had anyone else asked me this, I would have dismissed it out of hand. But I’ve come to respect Izzy for his insight and wisdom about things, so I feel obligated to give what he’s saying some serious consideration.
“I don’t know, Izzy,” I say finally. “My head is kind of muddled right now, what with everything that’s happened. Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“See you in the morning.”
And with that, I head inside toward a future that is more confusing than ever.
Chapter 29
David has left most of his clothes in the bags from the store and he’s still dressed in his scrubs. “Mind if I use your shower?” he asks.
“Of course not. Help yourself.”
I watch him as he carries his brand-new pajamas and the bag of just-bought toiletries into the bathroom with him. As he closes the door, my mind envisions him undressing on the other side. I know the first thing he’ll do is shave, standing stark naked in front of the sink, running the razor over the right side of his face first, then the left, moving to his neck next, and then the mustache area, finishing with the sideburns. After that he’ll brush his teeth for a full two minutes, finishing off with a Listerine rinse. Then he’ll hop in the shower and wash his body before he shampoos his hair. I can see that body—tall, lithe, and fit—in my mind’s eye. David is a well-built, attractive man and as I imagine him lathering himself up, I feel myself getting turned on.
What the hell? Maybe Izzy is right. Maybe I should consider marital counseling because clearly I’m still attracted to David on some level. Then again, I haven’t had sex in months so at this point even Helga looks good to me.
I settle on the couch with Hoover at my feet, turn on the TV, and start flipping channels, cursing my fickle loins and trying to focus on anything besides David naked in the shower. By the time he comes out of the bathroom wearing his new pajamas, with his hair damp and his face flushed, I’ve successfully shifted my attention to my back and shoulders, which are stiffening up with each passing minute. I’m not sure if it’s because of my workout at the gym, my efforts with David during the fire, or a combination of the two, but I have a feeling I won’t be moving well in the morning. Rubbish has curled himself up in my lap and even the minimal movement I’m making to pet him is growing more painful with each stroke.
David fetches himself a glass of ice water from the kitchen and then walks over and plops down next to me on the couch, making Rubbish leap from my lap and dash into the bedroom. Most likely Rubbish will hide under the bed for a while. He doesn’t take well to strangers in the house and the only person he’s not run from is Hurley, which is ironic when you consider that Hurley harbors a strong dislike of cats and often wants to run from Rubbish.