JAMES HAD A SURPRISE waiting for her at home. The dining room table was set, candles were lit, and a Duraflame flickered in the fireplace. Steam rose from Chinese take-out containers. “Ta-da,” he said.
She beamed at him from the doorway. “Mary Chung’s?”
“I heated it up myself.” He pulled out a chair for her.
She slipped her arms around him. It was wonderful to be close to him again. To feel his breath on her face. It made everything better.
“How was the funeral?” he asked her.
“Heartbreaking.”
“Sorry, babe,” he said, kissing her forehead. He looked at her with concern. “You’re feverish.”
“Been a long day.”
“Let’s eat. Maybe you’ll feel better.”
“I’d rather fuck your brains out.”
“Really?” He grinned. “That can be arranged.”
She took him by the hand and led him into their bedroom, tugging off his sweater, unzipping her skirt, peeling off her pantyhose. Her heart beat at a furious pitch as she landed on the bed, and he climbed on top of her. He straddled her hips and kissed her.
Urgency and despair took over. She reached down and guided him in. Please fuck the sorrow out of me, fuck me until I’m empty. Her breathing grew labored as the animal part of her came alive and everything built and built inside of her, until she exploded in a cluster of confetti shivers. Afterwards she clung to him, exhausted and blank.
“Wow,” he said, settling down beside her.
She cracked a smile. “You ain’t so bad yourself.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Okay,” she said, wondering how much to tell him.
“You sure? Everything okay?”
“Fine,” she lied, because a new emotion was stirring. Anger. She was furious at Detective Dyson for ambushing her, for suggesting that her worst fears—that her sister’s killer was still out there—could be true. For supporting Nelly’s story.
James smiled sadly at her. She realized she hadn’t been thinking enough about him, how he was feeling. She’d just assumed he was as strong as ever, that he didn’t need her concern.
“How about you?” she asked. “How was your day?”
“A crap sandwich, thanks for asking.”
“Agatha?”
“She walked out on group again.”
“What triggered it this time?”
“I completely lost my shit, Kate. We aren’t supposed to do that, right? Isn’t that in the Shrink Handbook or something? ‘Never lose your shit?’”
“I might’ve sworn at her under my breath. I couldn’t help myself. She pushes all my Mom buttons. I hate the fact that I’m only human. It annoys the hell out of me.”
“You? Human? Hardly.”
He laughed. “I feel better already. Back to you. What’s going on beneath that Teflon exterior?”
She sagged a little. “I’m coping,” she admitted.
He took her hand. “Where’s the ring?”
She stared at her naked finger. “I didn’t want my father thinking it was an engagement ring, so I took it off. Why open that can of worms?”
“You saw him today?”
“After the funeral. On a whim.”
“How’d it go?”
“Fair to middling.”
“Hm. I should meet this middling guy. We can dialogue.”
She laughed. “No way am I ready for that.”
“You never know. We could end up best buds.”
“Yeah, right. Just like Vanessa and me.”
“Mom loves you. She’s an equal-opportunity narcissist.”
Kate gazed out their bedroom windows. The full moon dusted the city in a soft glow. A chill wind whistled across the rooftop. James dragged the quilt up over their bodies, covering their nakedness, and held her close.
“Mm. Nice,” she murmured. “Let’s stay like this forever…”
“Okay.”
“…underneath our guilt…”
She stared at him. “What did I say?”
“Guilt.” He grinned. “You said guilt. That was some Freudian slip.”
“Quilt. I meant quilt.”
“Your guilt will probably outlast this quilt, despite the high thread count.”
“You’re hysterical.”
He smirked. “I know. It’s exhausting being such a boundless source of mirth.” He smoothed the hair off her face and kissed her gently. “Swear to me you’re going to be okay, Kate.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Here you are, dealing with all this crap, and I’m cracking jokes.” He squeezed her hand. “So that’s it for the ring then?”
“No, silly. I love it. I’ll be wearing it again tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t itch?”
“Not a bit,” she lied. “Can I have my hand back now?”
“I think not.”
“I think yes.”
He released her and leaned up on one elbow. “So tell me everything.”
She told him about the funeral. Then she said, “And I met this guy…”
The phone rang in the living room.
“Guy? What guy?”
She laughed. “It’s not like that—he’s older.”
“How old? Ancient? Decrepit? Not young and handsome like me, right?”
“Or young.”
The phone rang impatiently.
James rolled his eyes and tumbled out of bed. “Sorry. You can only ignore my mother for so long before the talons come out. I’ll keep it brief, and we’ll talk over dinner, okay? I really want to hear about this ancient, creepy, ugly old guy you met.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Say hello for me.”
He gracefully stepped into his jeans and went charging into the living room. Kate heard him pick up the phone and say, “Hey, Mom.”
She wasn’t sure how much to tell him about her conversation with Detective Palmer Dyson. It felt as if she’d opened Pandora’s box, and all the monsters of the world had come flying out, never to be put back again. She needed time to compose her thoughts. She would tell him tomorrow. Tonight, she would stay like this, safe and snug beneath her guilt.