Chapter 23

Holden didn’t answer his phone. I’d called four times. He just didn’t answer. Not that we’d set an exact time for our infrequent phone calls, but this was a bit unusual for him. He worried something might happen to people close to him—a holdover from his childhood abandonment trauma—so he always picked up when the phone rang. If he couldn’t, he usually called back within the next ten minutes. Now I started to worry something might have happened to him.

Shortly after four in the afternoon, my phone ringing relieved me of the accident fantasies and horror visions running through my mind.

“Holden.” It was impossible to miss the relief in my voice.

“Annie, what’s the matter?” He was alarmed.

“Nothing. Everything is OK.”

Oh, yeah? It is?

Stinging guilt followed the realization he was OK. The fear of confessing to him what I’d done hit me like a sledgehammer.

“I was at a trade show in New York all day,” he explained, “I’m only getting around to looking at my phone now. Why did you call?”

I cleared my throat. “Where are you now?”

“JFK. In the security line. We’re due to take off in forty minutes.”

We? So, he was with colleagues. This clearly wasn’t the right moment.

“When will you be home?”

“I hope we’ll make the plane. There’s a heck of a lot of security around today. They’re picking apart every single suitcase.” He sounded stressed. “But if we make the flight, I’ll be home at seven thirty.”

“OK. I’ll call about eight.”

“Please put your phone in the bin, sir,” a male voice ordered in the background.

“I have to go now. Later,” Holden said, then the line went dead.

I’d been pacing for twenty minutes in my apartment. It was seven thirty—Holden would be home by now if everything had worked out with his flight. I waited another ten minutes, which I spent walking back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen, chewing my fingernails all the while. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, and even though it wasn’t eight o’clock yet, I picked up the receiver on my landline and dialed Holden’s number.

“Just got in the door,” he greeted me. “Hang on for a sec.” I heard a heavy object being put down on the wood floor of our condo. His suitcase?

“So, now.” He was breathing heavily. “What’s up?”

“You were in New York?” I asked.

“Just for three days. For meetings.

“Oh.” The disappointment hit me unexpectedly. Had we become so estranged he didn’t think it necessary to tell me he was off to New York for three days?

You should talk!

Considering what I’d just done, I shouldn’t wonder why he didn’t tell me, and I didn’t have the right to be offended, hurt, or anything else.

“Why did you call?” Holden asked. “It sounded urgent.”

I swallowed. The time had come.

“I’ve . . . I’ve got to tell you something,” I started hesitantly. My tone almost screamed, I’m guilty, I did it!

“Oh yeah?” It sounded as if he went to sit down.

“Yes. I—oh, Holden, I don’t know how to tell you.” Desperation caused my voice to tremble. I wanted to continue and get it over with, but I couldn’t get a sound out. A sob escaped my lips. Damn it—I was starting to cry. I shouldn’t have been crying for myself, though. It was him I should cry for. After all, I’d done this. I would have liked to slap myself.

“What’s the matter, Annie?” Holden asked.

His tone was calm, but I knew him well enough to know how worried he was. He was worried about me while I was trying to confess I had cheated on him. I only sobbed louder with this insight. I waited for the moment between two crying fits, took a deep breath, and said, “I slept with someone. I’m so sorry.”

While I was crying my eyes out, it was dead silent on the other end of the line.

Pull yourself together, you idiot!

I clenched my teeth together and struggled to stop crying.

“Holden,” I pleaded, “say something.”

I heard him breathing quietly. “What am I supposed to say?”

He didn’t sound angry or sad or emotional in any way. His words had a sober finality that made me feel as if the floor had dropped out from under my feet.

“It was Seth, my first boyfriend. In high school. I told you about him. We met by chance . . . and one thing led to another.” I spoke so fast the words blurred together. “It was only once, and I broke it off right away. Holden, love, I’m so sorry!” I didn’t know why I told him all that. He hadn’t even asked. Maybe I hoped he wanted to know. Maybe I hoped it wasn’t too late. But I didn’t have the courage to ask him to forgive me.

“Holden,” I pleaded. “Please say something. I’m so infinitely sorry.”

I pressed the receiver hard against my ear. Listened for his breath. In and out, in and out.

“I can’t do it anymore.” His voice was barely more than whisper. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

He took his time to answer. “We hurt each other badly, Annie. I just haven’t got the strength to keep looking for something that was lost long ago.”

Another crying fit overwhelmed me. “Please, Holden, please don’t say that. I love you. I love you so much.”

He took a deep breath.

“Farewell, Annie.”

Then he hung up.

Days turned into nights and nights turned into days. As soon as I arrived at the lab in the morning, I put myself on autopilot and functioned until the workday was over and all tasks were finished. My employees noticed something was wrong. Once I even caught them talking about me behind my back. But no one brought it up directly. Whenever someone came too close and the conversation threatened to drift into personal matters, I slammed on the brakes and focused on being the boss. I couldn’t care less if it made me unpopular or not. After all, they had been hired to do a job, not gossip. And definitely not about private things. I soon had a reputation as the ice queen, but it didn’t bother me. On the contrary. People gave me my space. I worked through lunch breaks, and no one thought of asking me if I wanted to do something after work. In any case, I was the one who turned out the lights. I worked like a machine all day, but as soon as I was in my apartment and there was nothing to distract me anymore, the full force of the situation hit me. Night after night I cried myself to sleep, dissolved in self-pity and buried in accusations.

Seth tried a few times to reach me. Called me and even showed up twice at my building. But he eventually let it go, realizing it was better to look after other things than waste his time on an emotional train wreck like me. I once thought of suicide but quickly cast it aside. I’d only have hurt Holden more than I already had. I’d destroyed everything we had and could have ever had. I’d bet everything—and lost everything.

Three weeks later, on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, I had just hunkered down over my monthly report to the management executives when my cell phone display lit up. I cast an annoyed look at it—and froze. It was Holden. My heart threatened to burst in my chest. I reached for the phone with a trembling hand, and, after failing twice, finally managed to accept the call with a swipe. I held it to my ear but couldn’t make a sound with my lips. I was trembling. It was silent for a long time on Holden’s end, too—then I heard him breathe. I just sat there for what seemed like an eternity, the phone pressed against my ear, and listened to his calm, regular breathing.

When Holden finally spoke, he only said four words. “Please come home, Annie.”

I sobbed and clasped my hand over my mouth as tears streamed down my face.

I nodded. “I will,” I finally answered, then pressed my hand even more firmly over my mouth to quiet my sobs.