One Summer In Paris. Sarah Morgan
Читать онлайн книгу.
her bag on the floor. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrible. I guess you’re thinking it’s just punishment. They put in a stent, did they tell you?”
Had they? Maybe. She hoped he didn’t ask her any other questions, but fortunately at that moment Dr. Morton walked in. Elizabeth Morton had a daughter in Grace’s class, so they knew each other from school events.
“Hi, Grace. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks.” As well as can be expected for a woman who has just been dumped by her husband of twenty-five years. Did Dr. Morton know? How far had word spread? Grace tried to remember who had been in the restaurant that night.
“I’m the patient.” David made a feeble attempt at a joke. “You’re supposed to be asking me how I am.”
Was it her imagination, or did Dr. Morton’s smile cool slightly as she looked at him?
Oh God, Grace thought. She knows.
The thought of female solidarity should have cheered her, but it didn’t. She hated the thought of people gossiping about her. It was so personal. Humiliating.
Everyone would be wondering why David Porter had chosen to leave his wife. They’d be looking at her and speculating. Did she nag? Was she bad in bed?
Maybe they all thought she was boring, too.
She could feel droplets of confidence evaporating like water in sunlight.
“You can go home tomorrow.” Dr. Morton flipped through the notes. She was clinical. Efficient. “We’ll send you a date for a follow-up.” She gave some general advice and then added, “This is a question I find some patients are embarrassed to ask, so I always give the answer anyway. Sex.” Her face was expressionless, but Grace knew she’d never be able to meet her at the school gates without remembering this conversation.
She didn’t want Dr. Morton to talk about sex, but it seemed her wishes no longer counted for anything.
Grace gripped the edge of the chair until the plastic dug into her hands.
“You should take it easy for the next month.” Dr. Morton went on to elaborate, and Grace tried to shut it out.
She emerged from her trance to hear Dr. Morton saying, “After that, you’re good to go.”
Grace felt her anger rise. He was good to go, but what about her?
David squirmed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t look so gloomy. People recover well from this and go on to live good lives.” The doctor outlined plans for his discharge, and then left the room with a final nod toward Grace.
“No sex for a month,” Grace said. “I guess that’s going to be tough on whoever it is you’re sleeping with.”
She saw the shock in David’s eyes and then the spreading color in his cheeks.
“You’re angry. I understand.”
“You understand? You can’t do this and still get to be the nice guy, David. This wasn’t an accident, or some random thing that happened to us that you regret. You chose this path. You knew what this would do to us. To me. But you did it anyway.”
Because he’d wanted it.
It wasn’t the first time someone hadn’t loved her enough to fight temptation.
Feelings she’d worked hard to subdue swirled to life inside her.
“I didn’t plan it, Grace. I was unhappy, and she was there and—Well, it just happened.”
It was the worst thing he could have said to her.
“What happened to self-control, David?”
He shifted in the bed. “You don’t have to tell me how important self-control is to you. I already know.”
“But I didn’t know how unimportant it was to you.”
“Grace—”
“You didn’t tell me you were unhappy. You didn’t give us a chance.” The more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t just angry, she was furious. It was almost a relief. Anger was fuel, and easier to handle than grief and confusion.
“Everything you say is true, and I feel terrible.”
“I feel terrible, too. The difference is that you deserve to feel terrible, and I don’t.” She stopped. He looked so pale she was afraid he might be having another heart attack.
How could she care so much about his welfare, when he’d given no thought to hers?
It seemed that love defied logic.
“Grace—”
“Do you know what it’s like to be in love with someone, and to assume they feel the same way, and then to discover that it was all fake? It makes you question everything.” She heard the catch in her own voice. “All those memories we made together, I’m wondering how many of them were real.”
“They were real. They are real.”
“What’s real is that at some point you started feeling differently and you didn’t share that with me. I made a chicken salad with low calorie dressing.” She unloaded the bag and slapped the containers on the table next to the bed.
“You’ve had a few messages. Rick from the golf club called. He sent you his best wishes.”
“Right.”
He hadn’t even mentioned the fact that she’d resuscitated him. Not that she wanted thanks exactly, but a small amount of praise for keeping a cool head in an emergency and saving his life might have been nice.
Thanks, Grace. It was kind of you to bring me back to life after I said you were boring. Glad you didn’t exercise the option to leave me to die.
He watched her cautiously. “Did Stephen call?”
“Yes. He sends his best wishes and told you not to rush back to work. Lissa said she’d call around with a few things from your office. You left your bag there, and your laptop.”
“That’s kind of her.”
“Yes.” Grace was fond of Lissa. She’d been a few years ahead of Sophie in school and Grace had taught her French and Spanish. Lissa had struggled academically after her father walked out, and Grace had been delighted when she’d graduated high school and David had given her a job at the newspaper as a junior reporter. It was good to see her doing well.
She wondered if Stephen and Lissa knew about the affair.
“We need to talk to Sophie.”
There was alarm and panic on his face. “I’m dreading that part. Do you think it would be better coming from you?”
“You said you were tired of me doing everything, so no, this is one thing you can do yourself. And you’re the one who has given up on our marriage, so you’re in a better position than I am to explain it to our daughter. Do it tonight, when she comes to visit. She needs to know we love her and that your decision has nothing to do with her.”
“Tonight?” He lost more color. “I’m not feeling great, Grace.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want her finding out from someone else.”
“No one else knows.”
“You’re a journalist, David. You of all people should know how hard it is to hide information.”
He gave her a long, meaningful look and in the end she was the one to look away.
Damn him.
Grace curled and uncurled her fingers. Damn him for choosing this moment to remind her of the information he’d kept hidden. To remind