Page 147 of The Woman By the Lake

Riggs didn’t confirm or say words to make her feel better. He was silent.

I was too.

She followed Bubbles.

He turned to me then, and since I was behind him, I hadn’t been able to see his face.

But witnessing the ravaged expression on it?

Well…

That was when I lost it.

So I darted past him, jumped off the porch and heard him call, “Nadia!” as I zigzagged through the pine trees on my bare feet.

I caught them before they’d gotten in the car.

Both froze, turning startled eyes to me.

I stopped and ordered Bubbles, “If you truly love him, stay away.”

“No offense, woman,” Bubbles started cautiously, “but you haven’t been around for?—”

“Shut up,” I interrupted. “You want to figure it out, listen carefully, I’ll tell you where to start. If you honestly love him, no matter how much it hurts, no matter what it costs, you stay away.”

I felt Riggs come up behind me, but knew he was approaching because Bubbles and Lucille looked to him as he did.

Lucille turned back to me. “We won’t be bothering either of you anymore, Nadia.”

“You,” I pushed at Bubbles. “I want to hear it from you.”

Riggs slid an arm around my belly from behind and murmured, “Nadia, come back around with me.”

“Love is not selfish,” I said to Bubbles. “And it certainly isn’t causing pain. It can get complicated and twisted and have to be straightened out, but if it’s true, it’s never selfish. So if you love him, promise right now, unless he calls for you, stay away.”

Bubbles looked from me, to Riggs, to me, to Riggs, back to me for a long spell, then to Riggs for a longer one.

And it was to Riggs, he said, “I’ll stay away.”

“Get in the car, sweetie,” Lucille told him gently.

Bubbles didn’t move. He stared at Riggs.

I didn’t look, but I had a feeling Riggs was staring back.

Finally, with effort, and visible pain, Bubbles folded into the car.

Lucille shot a sad look our way before she got in beside him, started it up, and Riggs and I stood where we were and watched them drive away.

Their taillights were in the distance when suddenly I was up in Riggs’s arms.

I slid one of mine around his shoulders automatically as I asked, “What are you doing?”

“You’re barefoot.”

He carried me to the back porch, and in front of the loveseat, set me down.

He then announced, “I’m making fucking martinis.”

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