Uncharacteristically for an English hotel, the room was too hot. Mack threw off the covers and lay on the bed, eyes wide open, staring up in the darkness. It was just after midnight and, exhausted by the last several nights of fitful sleep, he was desperate to get some rest.
His conscience wouldn’t allow it.
He knew that the Evening Headlines had just finished airing in New York, but he couldn’t bring himself to call Eliza. Yet when he imagined how puzzled and hurt she must feel at his withdrawal, he felt guiltier still. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She didn’t deserve such treatment.
Mack turned over and pushed his face deep into his pillow. He still couldn’t believe he had done it. How could he be so stupid? More importantly, how could he have so quickly betrayed the woman he professed to love?
He did love Eliza. Of that he was certain. He had such hopes for their future together. His working in London while she was in New York wasn’t going to be the end of things between them. While it was difficult to manage, many couples were able to sustain a commuter relationship.
If both were true to each another.
Now the question was, Should he tell her that he had been unfaithful?
He imagined what that would be like and groaned into his pillow. Angrily pushing himself up from the bed, he walked to the window and pulled back the blackout curtain. Hyde Park was spread out tranquilly beneath him, illuminated by soft lamplight.
It was a beautiful park—the largest, though probably the least formal of London’s royal parks. A picturesque place to stroll along country paths, hold hands while sitting on a cast-iron bench, picnic on the lawn, rent a boat on the Serpentine. A place Eliza would love.
You fool!
That fact was established. Now, what was he going to do about it?
He could tell her, he supposed, as he dropped the curtain and returned to the bed. That would be honest, but he knew full well that nothing would ever be the same again. And who did the confession really serve? He might feel better for unburdening himself; Eliza, on the other hand, would be terribly wounded.
Of course, there was a good chance that Eliza would find out on her own. In this business, sooner or later, everyone seemed to know who had slept with whom. He didn’t want her to hear about it through the grapevine. It would crush her and she had already been through too much.
But there was no way he was going to tell her on the phone. This was something that had to be talked about face-to-face. Maybe he could explain that he had been drunk, that he had been feeling miserable about the prospect of living every day without her near him for what would probably be at least the next two or three years—that he was despondent about the real chances of their relationship making it in this situation.
A shrill ring blared from the phone on the bedside table. For once in his journalistic life, he wished it would be the night desk editor calling to tell him to get out of bed, take a car out to Heathrow and fly to some godforsaken corner of the world, somewhere he would be out of pocket for a while. Work was the great way to avoid personal problems.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Eliza! How are you, honey? I was just lying here thinking about you.”
“I bet you were.”
He could sense the distance in her voice. Why shouldn’t she be skeptical?
“How’s Janie?”
“She’s doing pretty well, actually. She starts at her new school tomorrow and she’s already made friends with a little boy who lives across the street.”
“She’s a great kid. I miss her. And I miss her mommy.”
“You do, huh? The phone hasn’t exactly been ringing off the hook, Mack. What’s going on?”
“Come on, Eliza. You know how it is. Starting at a new place, looking for somewhere to live. . . .”
“Sure, I know how it is, Mack. All the more reason I’d think you’d want to touch base with the person you love for comfort or to bounce things off of. That’s how I would feel, anyway.”
Mack wanted to tell her that he had had to force himself to keep from calling her at least a hundred times in the past days. But he hadn’t wanted to prattle about what was going on in London, acting as if his one-night stand hadn’t happened. It was easier to avoid the situation by not picking up the phone.
“I’m sorry, Eliza.”
There was silence on the overseas line.
“Eliza? Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“No. I’m not all right.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t understand what’s going on with us and on top, of that, security here is concerned that there are a couple of nuts out there who are obsessed with me. And, of course, after the nightmare with Mrs. Twomey, I automatically worry that someone will try to get to Janie.”
“What do you mean, ‘a couple of nuts’?” he asked sharply.
Eliza described the meeting with Joe Connelly in Yelena’s office that morning.
Mack tried to sound calm. “Try not to worry too much, honey. I’m sure security is on top of it. They’re used to dealing with situations like these.”
Eliza had wanted a different reaction. She had been hoping that Mack would say he’d be on the next plane to New York. She wouldn’t have accepted the suggestion, of course. She was a big girl and nothing bad had really happened. But she had wanted him to offer.
So much for her knight in shining armor.