Grace replays Noah’s statement in her head. “What do you mean it wasn’t Lee?” She wants to call his bluff, wants to challenge him, but knows it will do her no good. They are at a crossroads of sorts, and neither of them knows what to do next. No matter who was in that bathroom, he left her there, spread-eagled, like an animal. There is no getting around that.
“It was her friend,” he finally says. “That woman in the photo.”
“What?” The truth spins into the room. “How do you know Shirley?”
Noah paces and pulls at his hair. “I don’t. She approached me in the bathroom at that party. We … had sex.” He reddens. “We were in the dark. I flipped on the light before I left. I remembered her face. I…”
Grace is incredulous. “Didn’t you know that was Lee’s friend? Didn’t she ever bring her up?”
He shakes his head. “Even if she had, I didn’t know her name. When I first met Lee, I admit I did a double-take. I thought it was her. But I quickly realized it wasn’t the same girl.”
“How?”
He shrugs. “I just knew it wasn’t her.”
Grace does not know what to say and balks at his casual gesture. She flicks through the secrets like cards in a Rolodex. The girl in the dark wasn’t Lee. The girl in the dark was Shirley. Lee lied. About the party. About the man in the dark. About the nature of her pregnancy.
“Lee wouldn’t just make up some horror story. She had to have a reason.”
“Why would anyone use that as a false story? And to say that they were raped?” He lowers his voice on the last word and makes eye contact with her. “Which never happened, by the way.”
Grace grimaces. “How am I supposed to know that? How could I possibly know the truth?”
“Because I’m telling you what happened. Because I’m a good guy. Because I’m the father of your unborn child. Because that’s the truth.”
Grace takes a few steps back like he’d slapped her. “How do you know that woman in the dark wasn’t really Lee?”
He crosses the room to Grace’s desk.
She continues. “Think about it. You were drunk. They look exactly alike. Don’t you think you could have been confused? That the story Lee told is the real story?”
Noah hands her the journal. “No, I don’t.” He opens it and stabs a page. “Read this.”
Grace takes the journal and scans the entry. Lee’s loopy cursive jumps out at her.
After what happened with that guy at the party, everything changed. Shirley got depressed. It’s like the feisty version of my best friend was replaced with a stranger.
She flips through a few more pages and then closes the book.
“See? I’m telling the truth.”
Grace shrugs one shoulder, a loose gesture for what she’s really feeling. “Okay, so it’s true. I still don’t understand why she’d tell me that she was the one who was sexually assaulted.”
“Please don’t use those words. I did not sexually assault anyone.”
“Regardless of what you call it.” She runs her thumb over the L. “You still had sex with a drunk woman and left her there.”
“Grace, that was eight years ago. But it was completely consensual, I swear.” He looks away from her and something dark flashes across his face. “I’d just lost my brother. I was out of my mind with grief. It was a horrible decision to leave her in that bathroom, sure—I’ll admit that. But that’s the only mistake I made that night. I did not force myself on her. I did not do anything that she didn’t demand I do. And I certainly didn’t leave her in a pile of her own vomit. She must have gotten sick after I left.”
Grace doesn’t want to go into all the ways men get away with things; all the ways stories are twisted to best serve them. She knows Noah has shown her nothing but kindness, but she can’t get beyond what happened in that bathroom. Or what Lee said. What she needs to concentrate on now is what happens. How she handles him. How they move on. Or don’t.
As if reading her mind, he speaks first. “What now?”
“I’m not sure. I want to believe you, Noah. But…”
“Look, I know Lee was your best friend. I get it. I do. But she blatantly lied to you about this, and I have no idea why. She’s not the woman I slept with. I swear on whatever you need me to swear on. I never even saw that woman again.”
Grace tosses the journal onto the couch by Noah’s bag and folds her hands over her stomach. His eyes travel to the baby. She adjusts her robe and tries to formulate an appropriate response, but struggles for something to say. Instead, she flings her frustration into the room in a sweep of agitated breath and tightly crossed arms. She is so tired. She can’t absorb any more information or talk about things she doesn’t understand.
He takes the cue. “I know this is a lot. I’m sorry we have to deal with any of this, but what happened in the past doesn’t really matter. We’re a family. That’s what matters now.” He searches her face.
When she remains silent, he stands and grabs his keys and bag. “I’ll give you some time. There’s pizza in the kitchen.” He steps toward the door and pauses. “Can I see you after work tomorrow?”
She rubs an invisible stain from the floor with her sock. “Maybe.”
He nods, grazes her cheek with his familiar fingers, and tucks a curly strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you, Grace. Beyond everything. You have to know that.”
Goose bumps stud her skin. He has not said those words out loud until this very moment, and she is angry that he’s robbed her of that experience. She will forever link those three words to this. She only nods, shuts and locks the door, and spins around in her living room.
Now all she can do is wait.