Page 24 of Fallen Angel

“Where are you?” he repeats.

“I’m on a bench outside the park.”

“Stay there,” he says.

She wants to leave, to just disappear and hurt him the way he hurt her. But she doesn’t because she knows, deep down, this is at least partly her fault. She was in that room first. She could have left at any time before Alec ended up fucking Jocelyn. But she didn’t.

By the time Alec finds her, she can’t bring herself to look at him. So he sits next to her on the bench and they sit in silence. He puts his arm around her and she shrugs it off.

“Mal, come on. Look at me,” he says.

“I don’t want to.” She’s aware that she sounds like a two-year-old, but that’s how she feels—like a child, completely crushed and vulnerable and unable to soothe herself.

“What happened in there?” he says.

“You fucked some random stranger, that’s what happened,” she says, still not looking at him.

“I walked in on you and Violet first! What was that all about? What if I hadn’t come looking for you? Would you have just tapped me on the shoulder later and said ‘Sorry, I hooked up with Violet’?”

She shakes her head.

“I was going to stop her just when you walked in.” She’s almost certain it’s true.

“All I know is that I walked into a scene that was already underway. I had no sense that there was anything off-limits. You let Violet pull you away from me and didn’t seem too concerned about what I was doing while she went down on you.”

“I’m sorry but no: We’ve done things like that before, but it’s always been understood that you do not fuck some other woman!”

“Tonight seemed different. I’m sorry if I misread the situation.”

“You read what you wanted to read. The night was what you made it, Alec. And what does that say about us?”

He inches closer, putting his arm around her.

“I love you—I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding. A mistake.”

Maybe it was. But again, what does that say about them? She thinks about the things Allison and Julie said at brunch. Most couples wouldn’t have this type of misunderstanding. They’re the only ones who are so muddled.

She really needs some time to think.

“Can you sleep somewhere else tonight?” she says.

He looks stricken.

“No, that’s not a good idea,” Alec says. “We’re not spending the night apart. Even if we don’t talk, we should at least deal with this together. I think we’re past just running away when something goes wrong.”

He’s right. Last year, she spent too many nights on Julie’s couch. She doesn’t want to end up there again. But she also doesn’t want to fall asleep together in their bed, and then wake up in the middle of the night, reach for him, feel momentarily warm and fuzzy, and then remember what happened. That would be worse than waking up on Julie’s couch.

But then she remembers tomorrow is his last night in town before flying to LA to interview some actress, the it-girl of the moment. Gruff magazine is making her their new cover girl, and Alec won the plum article assignment. He’s spending a few days—where else—at the Chateau Marmont. How beautifully clichéd. Maybe Alec can accidentally fuck the actress, too.

They walk home in silence and go to bed in silence. But, contrary to her prediction, she doesn’t wake up once during the night to reach for him.

Chapter Thirteen

Mallory is relieved to be at the office Monday morning. Here, she can lose herself in the depositions piled high on her desk. Work isn’t the same escape as dancing, but it’s better than nothing.

“Good morning,” Gavin says, walking into her office with his overcoat thrown over his arm. He’s dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit. She wonders what it would be like to have a boyfriend like him. She’s certain that his ex-wife had never watched him stick his cock in someone else. “Just a quick check-in on my way to court. Everything good?”

“Yeah,” she says, and at the sight of him, things do feel surprisingly good. At least, better. “I’m going through the Marchand depositions.”