Page 63 of Landing Love

“Well?”

“Can you get me a glass of water first? My throat feels like it’s on fire.”

He genuinely sounded as if he was about to lose his voice, so she relented and got the water, though it took everything in her to refrain from throwing it in his face.

“I went out for a drink with Pritchard. I didn’t want to, but he insisted. To celebrate my marriage, he said. While we were there, he made friends with a woman at the bar. It turned out she had a friend. The friend got completely sozzled while Pritchard and the other woman flirted. She passed out, and it took all three of us to get her home safe and sound. Some lipstick must have gotten on me when she was leaning against me for support. Nothing happened. I swear.”

“And I’m supposed to take your word on this?” If he thought she was ready to fall for one of his tall tales, he had another thing coming.

“No. You can ask Pritchard. I’ll give you his phone number. He can tell you nothing happened. Ann, I’m so sorry. I swear this is all a terrible misunderstanding.” He looked at her with desperate, pleading eyes.

She wanted to believe him so badly, but she was no man’s fool.

“Can you get me some aspirin?” he asked. “It’s in the second drawer from the right in the kitchen. I must be coming down with something.”

Gritting her teeth, she turned and got the bottle for him then shoved it none too gently into his hand.

“Ann, please talk to Pritchard. Let me give you his number right now. Can you hand me a pen and a piece of paper?” He pointed at the top of the bookshelf.

She gave it to him, and moments later, he handed it back to her. “Call right now. Please. I want you to know the truth. I don’t want you thinking the worst of me a second longer than necessary.”

She placed the call. There was no answer.

“Maybe he’s out.” Bill’s voice was getting worse by the minute. “Try again in a little bit. He has to come home sometime.” He pounded his fist into the mattress. “Ann, please. I love you. I would never betray you. You have to believe me.”

“I want to, Bill. But even you have to admit this is highly suspicious.” That was an understatement. It was damning proof, and she could hardly believe he had the gall to look her in the eyes and deny it.

“You have every right to be upset. I’m just begging you not to jump to conclusions. I recognize how bad this looks.”

“Do you? Do you have any idea how powerless I feel right now? I’m married to you. I depend on you for everything. I even resigned from my job at your urging. If it turns out you’re a liar and a cheat, there isn’t a thing I can do about it. I have no recourse. I am completely at your mercy.”

She burst into tears despite her efforts to keep them at bay. It was all too much. She was just starting to settle into her new life and then this had to happen.

“Ann—”

“I wish to God this apartment had a second room. I don’t want to be here with you right now.”

“Ann, I’m so sorry. I’ll… I’ll leave you in peace.”

He turned around so that he was facing the wall, giving her as much privacy as the apartment would afford, and she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.

24

Bill woke up to Ann shaking his shoulder. It was a blistering hot late-August day, and he was drenched in sweat. His head throbbed, and his throat was raw. The memory of her accusations from earlier seeped into his consciousness and made him wince.

“You’ve been asleep all morning. It’s lunchtime. You should get up and eat something.” Her voice sounded cold, detached.

Junior, oblivious, giggled as he played with his toes on a blanket.

With supreme effort, he made himself sit up. Everything ached. This was one awful cold. Way worse than the usual sniffles. He looked down at his drenched union suit. He probably didn’t smell great, but his nose was too stuffed to tell.

“I have some chicken and potato salad for you.”

He had no desire to eat. His stomach lurched at the mere thought. But he knew he needed something, so he dragged himself out of bed and hobbled across the floor to the table. Sitting down heavily, he picked up his fork and took a bite. His throat was so sore, it felt like swallowing broken glass. Nonetheless, he forced himself to take another bite under Ann’s censorious gaze. No sooner had he swallowed than a coughing fit took him.

“Have you spoken to Pritchard yet?” he asked in a gravelly voice, once the coughing let up. He suspected he already knew the answer from the way she was treating him.

“No. I tried twice while you were asleep and didn’t get anyone.”