The Apartment by Debbie Macomber Page A

us.”
    â€œForget it?” he repeated with an abrupt laugh. “I wish I could. No, I say we ignore it, we pretend it doesn’t exist and go about our lives as best we can until the situation resolves itself.” He stalked away from her and down the hallway and into his bedroom. Hilary followed and stood in the doorway as he opened his closet and peeled off his shirt. He was going out. “In two weeks I’ll be out of here,” he announced flatly.
    â€œThen what?” How hard it was to disguise her dismay.
    â€œThen we can both go back to living our lives.”
    â€œI see,” Hilary said softly.
    In two weeks’ time Sean would be gone. Out of the apartment and, from the sounds of it, out of her life, as well.
    * * *
    Hilary sat in the darkened living room watching the hands on the wall clock slowly circle the dial. Sean had been furious with her for staying out late, for worrying him, but he felt no such concern himself. He’d left without a word and been gone for nearly eight hours.
    Hilary had phoned her mother earlier in the evening and they’d shared an enjoyable conversation. It was the first time she could remember talking to her mother without finding something to be upset about. Louise had always seemed so confident she knew what was best for Hilary. Now it was Hilary who felt equally certain she knew what was right for her and Sean and their relationship.
    Louise had known there was something wrong almost immediately, but to Hilary’s surprise she hadn’t pressured her. Hilary was grateful, and when the conversation ended, she felt rejuvenated and pleased she’d called.
    Sitting alone in the dark now, hours later, gave Hilary plenty of time to sort through her thoughts. It took her several hours, but she’d realized that what was concerning Sean most had been left unsaid between them: her name and her money.
    Hilary was aware of it, because she’d faced it before. At age eighteen, with William Donahue. Sean had asked her if she’d ever been in love before, but he hadn’t wanted to know any of the details. Hilary wished now that she’d told him.
    She’d been eighteen and fallen head over heels for a young man in her English literature class. She’d spent long hours with William discussing the rich layers of meaning in classic literature. William had been Hilary’s first love, and she had given him her heart. It wasn’t until later, when he started asking for small loans, that she realized he wasn’t attracted to her, but to the large trust account that would someday be hers. What had been so difficult was that her mother had never liked William and had done her best to end the relationship. Hilary had stood up to her and argued that William wasn’t any of the things Louise had claimed, even when it was obvious her mother was right. In the end, she’d been forced to admit her folly.
    It had been a painful and bitter lesson for Hilary, and she’d avoided men and relationships ever since. Money and position had stood between her and the man she loved before. This wasn’t a new experience.
    William had wanted her for what she could do for him, for her wealth and her name.
    Sean didn’t want her, for the identical reasons.
    A flash of light signaled that Sean was home. His headlights were extinguished, and a few moments later the front door opened. He didn’t bother to turn on the living room lights, but walked through the darkened room.
    He paused at the hallway before he slowly turned around. “Hil? What are you doing up?”
    â€œThinking,” she whispered.
    â€œIt’s nearly two in the morning.”
    â€œI know.”
    He came to her then and knelt down in front of her. The scent of roses and sweet perfume hit her like an openhanded slap across the face. Hilary closed her eyes to the sudden sharp pain and waited for the hurting to subside.
    â€œHow’s Carla?” she