At almost noon on Wednesday, Viv is still in bed, trying to get the resolve together to start her day. There isn’t anything waiting for her; she’s done all the shopping and rearranging in the apartment she can stand for now. The housekeeper was just in yesterday and isn’t expected back until next week. She thinks of sacking the woman, anyway. Viv is sure she goes through her things. And something might very well be missing. Nobody has been at the apartment in months, but the housekeeper comes every three weeks when the place is empty.

She’s been in New York almost a week now, and the novelty has already worn off. Sometimes, she almost misses Victor. He tried to call a few times, but Viv always lets it go to voicemail. She doesn’t know what to say to him. Why is she in New York? Until she can get hold of Damien and straighten things out with him, she and Victor are in limbo.

And just as she didn’t take her husband’s calls, Damien has evaded her so far. Viv has sent one text and called twice; she doesn’t want to appear desperate, as if she has no life. But when her phone buzzes now on the bedside table and Viv sees that it’s Damien, all her dark thoughts disappear.

She takes the call and says as casually as she can, “Hello?”

“Hey, Viv,” he replies.

“Damien, hey!” Viv tries for surprised but cool. “How are you? I tried to call and check on you, but you must’ve been busy…”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I was out of town. I’m much better, though, thanks. Listen,” he adds, then says nothing else for what feels like a long time. Viv hates it when people do that. She is listening, why’s he not talking? It’s not like she’s got nothing better to do than wait for him to collect his thoughts.

But she bites back her anger. She’s yearned for his call, and she wants to do it properly this time. She has big plans for them, after all.

Finally, he says, “Viv, we need to talk.”

“Yes, we do!” she agrees. It comes out more forceful than she had planned. “I want to apologize for leaving you alone like that.” It’s true, she’s thought about it a lot. Even though she’d been grossed out by him being ill, she should’ve stuck around. She knows that now. She wouldn’t have liked it if he’d walked out on her in that situation.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he says. “Not important. I have a charity gala to go to tonight, but—”

“Oh, what’s that for?” Viv interrupts. Whatever he needs her to do now, she’ll agree. She’ll make it up to him that she ran away without a word.

“It’s for Little Sparks,” he says. “Our charity for children in Somalia. Idil and I set it up, back when…” He stops again. Mention of his ex-wife must to be painful. “Anyway, I’m still a patron, and she can’t be there today, so I’m going.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Viv says. She is excited. Finally, an opportunity to go out with him on a proper date. One of the first things she bought this week was a hideously expensive Elie Saab dress, from the new fall collection. It’s not even in the shops yet; she’d read about it in a newsletter her agency sends around, and she had to have it. “Is it an eight p.m. start?”

“Yes, but…” Damien says, but Viv cuts him off.

“If I call the salon now,” she muses, “they can probably fit me in.” She does a quick mental calculation. “If I come to pick you up at seven, we can make it to Midtown in good time…”

“It’s at the Bowery Hotel,” Damien interjects.

“Even better!” Viv says, beaming. She sits up in bed, tallying all the things she has to do to prepare. Her nails could do with a work-over, too. “So I’ll be at the penthouse by half past seven?” She gets out of bed and hunts around for her address book, to look up the hair and beauty place she uses when she’s in the city. The New York numbers haven’t all made it into her new phone yet.

It takes her a moment to realize Damien hasn’t replied to her question. “Damien,” she prompts. “You there? I asked if seven thirty sounds good?” Again, she dampens down her impatience. Maybe he’s still not totally recovered from his migraine. She should make allowances, though the thought troubles her.

“Sure,” he says after another moment. “That’s fine.”

He doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Viv frowns. He’s the one who invited her, shouldn’t he be a bit more excited?

“Great,” she says, her mood subdued now. “I better go, or I’ll never get everything done.” And before I snap at you, she adds in her mind.

“All right,” he says. “See you then.” The line goes dead.

Viv puts the phone on the dresser and goes into the walk-in closet. There, on a hook on the outside of the open wardrobe door, hangs the Elie Saab dress, made from green velvet and tulle. She smiles to herself as she opens the zipper on the transparent protective cover and lets her hands glide over the soft bodice.

She’ll outshine every other woman at the gala in this, and Damien won’t be able to take his eyes off her.