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I SLEPT INTERMITTENTLY and finally dragged myself out of bed at dawn. Donnie stirred a little beside me, then went back to sleep. I padded into the kitchen, started the coffee, and called my father’s cell phone. My parents would be up already, probably doing their healthful morning walk.
“Hey sweetheart,” my father answered, sounding obscenely chipper. “Whaddaya doing up so early?”
“I have some important news, Dad.”
Donnie was behind me, nuzzling my hair. I turned around and pointed to the phone.
“Parents,” I mouthed.
“Invite them for dinner,” he said. “I’ll cook.”
“Who is that?” I heard my mother in the background. “Is that a man’s voice? Is it the new one?”
“That was Donnie.”
“It’s Donnie,” I heard my father say to my mother.
“Tell her she’s never going to get anyone to marry her if she keeps letting these men stay overnight.”
Donnie was busy at the coffee machine, too far away to have heard. I scurried into my little office nook, just to be on the safe side.
“Too late. I’m already married.”
“What did you say? Sorry, sweet pea, it sounded like you said you were already married.”
“Donnie and I eloped.”
“Did you say you eloped?”
“She eloped?” I heard my mother say. “Did they get a Catholic priest?”
“Tell Mom yes, Father De Silva is a real Catholic priest. Donnie—we—would like to invite you over for dinner. Can you drive back tonight?”
Donnie came over, handed me a cup of coffee, and gave me a light kiss on the nose.
I smiled and thanked him. My father relayed my message to my mother.
“So she’s back with the first one now?” I heard my mother say. “She’s not going to change her mind again, is she?”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
I heard the shower go on, at the same time I realized I had to use the bathroom. I wondered how long Donnie was going to take. Maybe both of us staying at my place was not a good solution for the long term.
“What about dinner?” I heard my father ask my mother.
“Maybe we should eat beforehand,” I heard her say.
“Dad, tell her I’m not cooking. Donnie is. He’s an amazing chef.”
“What time do you want us to be there?” My father asked.
“Five or five-thirty okay? Someone’s at the door. I’ll see you tonight.”
I went to the front door and let Emma in.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Sure.”
We sat down at the kitchen table.
“Where’s Pat?”
“Pat doesn’t need to know about this.” Emma looked grim. “Is Donnie here?”
“He’s in the shower. So if you need to go to the bathroom, get in line. What’s going on?”
“I have to talk to you about something,” Emma said.
“It’s okay, Emma. You helped to save my life, so I forgive you for stealing my DNA.”
“This actually is about your DNA,” she whispered. “I told Donnie those long hairs in the drain didn’t match the saliva on your paper cup.”
“And they didn’t.”
“Molly. They did. It was a match. It was your hair in the shower drain.”
“What? You said it wasn’t a match.”
“I was covering for you.”
“There has to be some mistake.”
“I couldn’t believe it myself. First this punk Davison nails Sherry, and then you. What, does he have some kind of magical dong or something?”
“Emma, I cannot believe you would imagine for a second—”
“Okay, okay, fine. Alternate explanations. Did you ever use Davison’s shower? Maybe when no one was home, and you forgot?”
“No. Of course not. You can only get to that bathroom through Davison’s room. And the only time I was ever inside Davison’s room was the night the shower flooded. Besides, you know Sherry was the one who was carrying on with him.”
“Of course I know about Sherry,” Emma said. “But you don’t get false positives with this kind of test. The markers lined up. Look, I can get another sample from you and re-run the test if you want. But we’re just gonna find the same thing. Hey, are you taking one of those new prescription sleep aids?”
“What would sleep aids have to do with it?”
“Sometimes people do things in sort of a sleepwalking state, and then they forget what they did.”
“I’m not taking any kind of sleeping pills. And what a perfectly horrible idea.”
“Well, either that was your hair in the shower,” Emma said, “or—”
Emma broke off and stared over my shoulder.
There was Donnie, glistening wet and wearing only a towel.
“Good morning, Emma,” he said, and disappeared around the corner.
“Donnie’s a good guy,” Emma followed his exit with a pitying look. “He doesn’t deserve to get hurt.”