Chapter 4
Marcus's Tacoma was already gone, but she didn't move. The rain had picked up again, fine and cold, and it beaded on her shoulders and in her hair. She wasn't wearing a coat, just that sweater pulled over the red dress, and she kept her arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together.
"Ryan," she said. "We can't do this here."
"We already did," I said. I still had my hand in my pocket around the phone. The manager was still watching us through the diner window. A truck hissed by on the highway and threw spray over the shoulder.
"I didn't want you to find out like this," she said. Her voice was low and wet, not just from rain. "I was going to tell you at home. I swear I was."
I looked at her Crosstrek, then at the empty space where Marcus had been parked. The white lines were shining with water.
"How far along?" I said.
"Ten weeks," she said, after a breath.
I nodded. Ten weeks took me back to late August. County fair week. I had been pulling double shifts at the shop. She had been working late at the clinic.
"Does he work with you?" I said.
She swallowed. "He's on the sales side, for the supplier. He comes in Tuesdays and Thursdays. Ryan, it wasn't— it didn't start like an affair. We were talking after a shift. One night at Jeff's retirement thing. I drank too much."
"Don't give me Jeff's party," I said. "Tell me what happened after."
Her eyes flicked to the diner windows. Two older women at a booth were openly staring now. "Can we get in the car? Just for a minute? You're soaking your blazer."
"No," I said. "You said meet at home in an hour. We'll do that. But I'm not getting in a car with you here to make this disappear."
She flinched. Rain ran down her cheek and she didn't wipe it. "What do you mean?"
"I mean no more lies today," I said. "You tell me the same thing at home you'll tell me here. No new version."
She nodded fast. "Okay. Okay, same thing."
I pulled the phone halfway out of my pocket so she could see it. "This stays with me. I'm not deleting it. I'm not letting Marcus call it a misunderstanding before I hear the whole thing again."
Her hand came up like she wanted to touch my arm, then stopped. "Please don't send it to anyone before we talk. My job— if the clinic hears that recording, I'm gone. Please, Ryan."
"I haven't sent it to anyone," I said. "But I'm not promising to bury it either. Not until I know what he said at 1:52."
She looked toward Harrisburg, where Marcus had gone. "He was trying to scare me. He didn't mean—"
"He said it," I said. "That's mean enough."
The wind moved through the parking lot and lifted the edge of her sweater. She shivered. I wanted to hand her my jacket the way I had a hundred mornings, but I didn't.
"One hour," she said. "Our kitchen. Just us."
"One hour," I said. "You go straight home. He doesn't come with you."
May you like
"I'll go home," she said.
She unlocked her Crosstrek with shaking hands and got in. I stood in the rain and watched her back out, wipers already going, and turn left toward town. The diner bell jingled as the manager stepped onto the sidewalk, but he didn't say anything. I walked to my old F-150 at the far end of the lot. My blazer was soaked through to the shoulders. I sat behind the wheel and didn't start it right away. I just held the phone and listened to rain on the roof.
