Page 11 of Grounded
“There’s nothing to work out.”
“Annie …?” She hung up the phone and turned it off.
In her mind, a memory arose with vivid clarity. They were walking around Battery Park last fall, early in their relationship, when the subject came up.
“I don’t know if I ever want to get married,” he had said.
“Maybe you haven’t dated the right person,” she had coyly responded.
“Maybe.” They had both laughed, and Annie had felt at the time that he was laying down a challenge for her. It was as if he wanted her to change his mind, and she knew that she could. She would be the one he would want to settle with, to make a family with. She had known it to be possible, and so she had not given the exchange another thought until now.
That night in bed she lay staring at the ceiling of the DeVechio’s guest bedroom, thinking about Stuart. The love blinders were off and she began recollecting flaws in his character, little things she had overlooked. Only two weeks ago, he had talked about fudging on his tax return. “Uncle Sam doesn’t need it like I do,” he had said.
Then there was the time she’d said no to an expensive bottle of wine. “Don’t worry about it,” he’d said. “The company’s paying for it.”
“Why would they pay for us to have dinner?”
“Annie, in this business, you have to look successful to be successful. If I don’t look the part, no one will invest with me. There’s a man here tonight I’ve been trying to get in to see. With a generous tip to the maître d’, I got a phone call this afternoon and knew what time his reservation was. I’ll stop by their table on the way to the restroom, say hello, have a brief chat, and I guarantee you I’ll get in the next time I call.”
It all seemed so staged, she had thought, but what did she know about his business? He lived in a world of lies and illusions. Why wouldn’t he lie to her about his past? Worse, why wouldn’t he lie to her about the future?
One minute she was weeping, and the next she was beating her fist into the pillow. She was angry with him—and herself. Denial and then disbelief had been her pattern with guys, starting with her high school sweetheart, Brett Bradshaw. He was the quarterback on the football team, the one who sealed her popularity and the one who moved on when he found a prettier cheerleader.
Then she met Bryan, the perfect anti-venom to Brett, who she dated throughout college. He was loads of laughs, someone she could really enjoy life with, until a string of DUIs made him decidedly not fun anymore. He was a drunk in the making.
After Bryan, there was Mike, the Texas businessman she met on commuter flights to Dallas. He seemed to have it all, until she found out about his wife, quietly wasting away in a nursing home with a brain injury. Stuart followed Mike.
And here she was: thirty-two, single, no children, no home and no job. She was empty. Poured out, emotionally parched.
On Friday, with Janice waiting below in the car, Annie went to Stuart’s apartment to remove her few belongings before he returned home. For a few happy months, she had grown to know his living space as if it had been her own. There were bits of knowledge she would no longer need, like the name of the mailman, the extra tug the door needed to lock and the day the exterminator sprayed. There would be no need to worry about a surly housekeeper or whether she had left something out of place.
Refusing his calls and deleting his voice mails left Annie with no knowledge of his plans, but he was never home during the day. When he opened the door at the sound of her key in the lock, she was surprised to see him. He was unshaven.
“Well, well. Coming back to the scene of the crime?”
“What crime?” she asked, dropping the empty bag.
“You stole my heart and ran away.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Maybe. But, you’re wrong to leave,” he reached for her and tried to pull her close.
Annie stiffened and pulled away. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to remember what she left. She found jewelry, toiletries, a few pieces of clothing and a couple of books. She threw them all in the bag, hoping to leave as soon as possible.
“Aren’t you going to take these?” he asked, holding the diamond earrings in his hand. “I gave them to you, after all.”
“Give them to Felicia.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Pretty self-righteous for a girl who dated a married man once.”
Annie turned on him, heat rushing to her face.
“I told you, I didn’t know he was married. As soon as I found out, I broke it off.” She jerked the bag and it flipped on its side. She struggled to set it upright while Stuart laughed. Infuriated, she lashed out. “I was completely honest with my background, good and bad. Don’t you dare try to use that against me.”
“I’m only saying, neither of us is perfect.”
Annie scanned the room and saw an afghan her grandmother made and stuffed it in the bag.
