the bedroom, telling herself with each step that it would be fine. There were no monsters here. This was just a place where Gary stayed during the week. No big deal.
The bed wasn't made, no surprise there. The half-open closet door revealed a pile of dirty laundry in a hamper, suits and shirts hanging from the rack. They were Gary's work clothes, his architect clothes, not the comfortable Dockers and polo shirts he wore at home. She began to breathe more easily as she looked around the room. These were her husband's things. True, she didn't recognize many of them, but so what? That didn't mean anything.
"Are you done?" Dylan asked from the doorway.
"Yes." But as she turned, her gaze caught on the dresser, on a strangely-shaped glass bottle. It drew her like a moth to a flame. She knew it was perfume before she crossed the room. She knew it wasn't her perfume before she reached the dresser. But she didn't know the bottle was only half full until she picked it up. "Oh, God!" she whispered as she turned around to face Dylan. "Who does this belong to?"
His face grew so tight she wasn't sure he could answer even if he wanted to. It quickly became apparent that he didn't want to.
"Gary always said you were an honorable man, someone he could trust. Does that also mean you would keep his secrets?" she asked.
"Don't do this, Rachel."
"Was he having an affair?" She put a hand to her heart as her voice filled with the doubt she'd been trying to suppress. "Oh, my God, was my husband cheating on me?"
Chapter Two
Dylan's breath stalled in his chest at the look in Rachel's shocked eyes. A dozen answers came to his mind, but it wouldn't matter what he said. She was too caught up in some unspeakable scenario of betrayal that her imagination had conjured up. Despite the fact that his own stomach had taken a nosedive a second ago, he couldn't let her go in that direction.
"Stop it," he ordered. "Just stop it. You jumped about a million miles in logic. There's a perfume bottle sitting on a dresser. So what?"
"So what?" she echoed in disbelief. "It's not mine. That's so what."
"Maybe it belonged to a client."
"What kind of a client? Why would Gary be holding business meetings in his apartment?"
"I don't know, but neither do you. Think for a second. We don't know who left the perfume bottle here. We don't," he repeated when she opened her mouth to argue. "It could be perfectly innocent. In fact, I'm sure it is innocent. And you should be sure, too."
"You're right. I should be sure. I am sure," she added, deliberately raising her voice. "I knew my husband. I knew him. I did."
She was trying to sound convinced and was failing abominably. Dylan didn't know what to say. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to defend his friend. He wanted... Hell, he wanted everything to be the way it had been. No, that wasn't even true. The way it had been hadn't been right either, but it had been better than this. Anything was better than this.
"I can't be here right now," Rachel said. "Nothing makes sense here. I don't know this place. I don't understand it."
"Then go home, Rachel. Go back to your apple farm and your son and your family. I'll box everything up and ship it to you."
"Not the bottle. Don't send me that bottle." She wrapped her arms around her body as if she could somehow protect herself from it.
"I won't.'
"No, you should. It could be a clue. No, don't. Oh, God, I don't know. Tell me what to do. Please, just tell me what to do, Dylan."
The painful plea in her eyes made him want to pull her into his arms and protect her. But he forced his hands deeper into his pockets. The very last thing he needed to do was touch her. "I think you should let it go," he said. "Gary is gone. None of the rest of it matters."
"But it does matter."
"If you need money -- "
"It's not just the money, although God knows I'm not sure how I'll manage without it. But that's not it. I can't stand these doubts I have. Gary deserves my loyalty, yet there's
The bed wasn't made, no surprise there. The half-open closet door revealed a pile of dirty laundry in a hamper, suits and shirts hanging from the rack. They were Gary's work clothes, his architect clothes, not the comfortable Dockers and polo shirts he wore at home. She began to breathe more easily as she looked around the room. These were her husband's things. True, she didn't recognize many of them, but so what? That didn't mean anything.
"Are you done?" Dylan asked from the doorway.
"Yes." But as she turned, her gaze caught on the dresser, on a strangely-shaped glass bottle. It drew her like a moth to a flame. She knew it was perfume before she crossed the room. She knew it wasn't her perfume before she reached the dresser. But she didn't know the bottle was only half full until she picked it up. "Oh, God!" she whispered as she turned around to face Dylan. "Who does this belong to?"
His face grew so tight she wasn't sure he could answer even if he wanted to. It quickly became apparent that he didn't want to.
"Gary always said you were an honorable man, someone he could trust. Does that also mean you would keep his secrets?" she asked.
"Don't do this, Rachel."
"Was he having an affair?" She put a hand to her heart as her voice filled with the doubt she'd been trying to suppress. "Oh, my God, was my husband cheating on me?"
Chapter Two
Dylan's breath stalled in his chest at the look in Rachel's shocked eyes. A dozen answers came to his mind, but it wouldn't matter what he said. She was too caught up in some unspeakable scenario of betrayal that her imagination had conjured up. Despite the fact that his own stomach had taken a nosedive a second ago, he couldn't let her go in that direction.
"Stop it," he ordered. "Just stop it. You jumped about a million miles in logic. There's a perfume bottle sitting on a dresser. So what?"
"So what?" she echoed in disbelief. "It's not mine. That's so what."
"Maybe it belonged to a client."
"What kind of a client? Why would Gary be holding business meetings in his apartment?"
"I don't know, but neither do you. Think for a second. We don't know who left the perfume bottle here. We don't," he repeated when she opened her mouth to argue. "It could be perfectly innocent. In fact, I'm sure it is innocent. And you should be sure, too."
"You're right. I should be sure. I am sure," she added, deliberately raising her voice. "I knew my husband. I knew him. I did."
She was trying to sound convinced and was failing abominably. Dylan didn't know what to say. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to defend his friend. He wanted... Hell, he wanted everything to be the way it had been. No, that wasn't even true. The way it had been hadn't been right either, but it had been better than this. Anything was better than this.
"I can't be here right now," Rachel said. "Nothing makes sense here. I don't know this place. I don't understand it."
"Then go home, Rachel. Go back to your apple farm and your son and your family. I'll box everything up and ship it to you."
"Not the bottle. Don't send me that bottle." She wrapped her arms around her body as if she could somehow protect herself from it.
"I won't.'
"No, you should. It could be a clue. No, don't. Oh, God, I don't know. Tell me what to do. Please, just tell me what to do, Dylan."
The painful plea in her eyes made him want to pull her into his arms and protect her. But he forced his hands deeper into his pockets. The very last thing he needed to do was touch her. "I think you should let it go," he said. "Gary is gone. None of the rest of it matters."
"But it does matter."
"If you need money -- "
"It's not just the money, although God knows I'm not sure how I'll manage without it. But that's not it. I can't stand these doubts I have. Gary deserves my loyalty, yet there's
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