Bread Alone by Judith Ryan Hendricks Page A

that’s okay. How are you?”
“Fine. I just—”
“How’s your mom?”
“Fine.”
The silence is about a half second too long. “I thought—I called you last night to see if you guys were coming to dinner Saturday. I mean, since I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. David said your mom was sick and you were staying over there. I hope it’s not serious?”
My mind goes into overdrive. “No, she’s … doing a lot better, thanks.”
“That’s good.” Another silence. “Wyn, is everything okay?”
Tom Hathaway, Lisa’s husband, is one of David’s biggest clients, and of all the women I know in this town, she’s probably the closest to an actual friend. But I’m not ready to start confiding in her quite yet. “Of course. Why?”
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but when I talked to David about Saturday …” Her voice fades. “He said that you didn’t want to leave your mom alone.”
“Well, I—”
“But he said he’d like to come. And he asked if he could bring someone from the office. Some account manager he wants Tom to meet.”
The Grand Canyon opens up in my stomach.
“Wyn?”
“Lisa, can I call you back? My mother’s calling me, and I really need to go see what she wants. Why don’t we have lunch one day next week?”
“Okay.” She’s waiting. Fishing for information. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. “Wyn, call me. If you need anything at all. Or if you want to talk.”
After she hangs up, I dial David’s number.
“Hi,” he says. His voice is warm, almost affectionate. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk when you called the other day. I didn’t want to discuss things in front of Andrea and everyone.”
He seems oblivious to my confusion.
“David, tell me what’s going on. Why did you lock me out?”
“Wyn, I can’t talk now. I’m at work and—”
“So close your door. I want some answers.”
“Look, I … care about you. Very much.” Meticulous word choice.
“Then let me come home.”
Long sigh. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“A good idea? We’re talking about our marriage. If you still—If you care about it, about me, we need to talk—”
“Things have to be different for a while.” He cuts in smoothly. “Till I get—Till I figure out what I need to do. I can’t be living in the same house with you. You wouldn’t move, so I had to do something.” His tone suggests that locking me out was a perfectly reasonable something to do.
“I just talked to Lisa.”
He waits. “And?”
“Who are you taking to their dinner Saturday night?”
“Kelley Hamlin.” It almost sounds matter-of-fact.
“So it’s official. We’re dating now.”
“It’s not a date. I want to introduce her to Tom—”
“Can’t he find his own blonde?”
“Stop it. You’re being ridiculous. She’s going to be taking over the account. I’m trying to assign some of my own clients to other account managers. So I’ll have more time to manage the marketing side.” His tone shifts. “I’m trying to slow down a little. Like we talked about. I thought you’d be glad.”
“I’ve talked to a lawyer.” Ungrateful shrew that I am.
“Oh, Wyn.” Surprised and hurt. “Are you going to divorce me?”
That word hangs in the air. He says it so easily, and I can’t. My throat closes up every time I try.
Another dejected sigh. “I know I can’t expect you to be patient forever. It’s not fair to you. If you feel you need to make a clean break, I understand.”
How did this suddenly become something I’m doing to him?
“David, we need to talk. We need to sit down face-to-face and—”
“We could have a drink one night. If you want to.”
“What night?”
“I’ll have to see how my schedule’s shaping up. I’ll call you.”
“When?”
“Soon. In the next couple of days. I promise. Okay?”
“I don’t think—”
“Oops, I’ve got a call waiting. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Before my mother says a word, I know that the job is hers. She looks pleased, confident, but not