The Last Man

We're more than friends, though.

But you're putting me in a fucked up situation, Ian.

I'm sorry, baby-I didn't come all this way to...

...ruin everything?

You know I wouldn't do that. I don't want to complicate things. I just can't help thinking that--

-that this should have been us........

Yeah.

I played it over and over again in my head. Ian hadn't been in Rathport since-forever-and he chose to show up in typical form YESTERDAY of all days; of all the fucking moments in my life when he SHOULD have shown, but didn't.

"Honey, you have to come out of the dressing room so we can see it," Mad yelled. It sounded like she was on the other side of the boutique-being loud and ghetto.

"Okay, okay!" I shouted, almost zipping my extra 2 inches I hadn't lost yet up into the heinous closure on what seemed like the umpteenth dress I'd tried on. I'd purposefully lost count. Exhausted and starting to rethink the whole dress thing, I contemplated just walking down the aisle in jeans and a t-shirt.

"It's GORGEOUS!" Mad snarled, almost squealing at the end of her outburst when I stepped out onto the landing before the tilted mirrors. She plopped down on the chaise lounge next to Tiff who was off in iPod la-la land. "Mom!" she yelped and scooted over toward the edge of the cushion.

I gave a half-ass twirl as Mad gawked at me with her mouth partially open-her shoulders and her face dropped when she caught the reflection of my sourpuss face in the mirror.

"You're not even enjoying this as much as I am-what a damned shame."

She called the sales associate over-a young blonde with the dough-eyes of a recent college grad wearing a tight pencil skirt that barely moved with her scuffling legs.

"Yes, miss," she said softly, hands folded at her breasts as if she'd been trained to be stiffer than life.

"We'll have to come back-no decisions today. Thanks for your time, sweetheart." Mad was scowling at me now. As little college grad Barbie began gathering up the plastic dress forms and tissue paper off the floor and surrounding area, I headed back into the dressing room hoping I hadn't been followed.

"You need to realize something, Nava..."

My heavy sigh was not intended to make any particular impression, but it did anyway.

"And I don't care HOW hard and loud you huff and puff-you are getting married in a beautiful gown like your mother would have wanted you to. I don't CARE how much it costs. You will not feel guilty about having a fairytale wedding. Do you hear me?"

Auntie Madison had won the $12 million jackpot in the state lottery a year ago and was bound and determined to make sure she did everything she could to make me endure all this wedding planning bullshit because she didn't have a big extravagant wedding with Uncle Damon. What she probably meant to say was that she, to my chagrin, was GOING to live vicariously through me no matter how much I huffed and puffed.

Out of the dress, down the street we went to get iced coffees. I thought about Ian the entire oodle of minutes we stood in the line for the next available barista. He didn't just pop up out of nowhere-he said he would come to the wedding so I was expecting him at the engagement party. He just showed up with a date-looking so yummy and unavailable. And so was I. It was the perfect sin. He had his hands on my hips when we stopped but I wanted him-right there in the kitchen of my aunt's house with my fiancé and all our closest friends and relatives in the living room and on the patio.

"You haven't heard a word I said!" Mad was such a boisterous little firecracker-she threw up her hands but was just in time to order her coffee-we'd reached the counter and it was her turn. My heart still pounded inside my chest from the startle. Maybe the ice will chill me out, I hoped.

"I'm sorry, Mad-I don't kn-I guess my mind was wandering."

"Well, I'm glad you're back! We need to go to ONE more boutique before you give up for the day. You have GOT to find your dress today or you'll be getting married to Doug in jeans and a damned t-shirt!" I chuckled and probably laughed a little too much. She looked at me as if I'd just called the Holy Virgin a tramp.

"Yeah, it's hilarious. Keep laughing-you won't have a dress come the big day!"

I couldn't take the outbursts anymore.

"Oh, God, Mad-chill out! I'll find a goddamned dress!"

There was that quiet awkward silence that occurred every time someone chose a family dinner to announce a new job description that no one else understood or cared about. I took my drink and went to sit down by Tiff who still wasn't present. She didn't even acknowledge me.

A few minutes of peace passed, then Mad came over and sat across the tiny round table from me, almost slamming her cup down.

"Look, Nava-all I want to do is give you what I didn't have."

Wow-she admitted it.

"And someday little Miss Tiffany will have her day. Your mother and I talked about your wedding so many times. She would have wanted you to be happy and have everything you want."

"But Mad, what if I DON'T want all of this?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

She put her straw to her lips and took a sip then leaned over on an elbow to discreetly give me a piece of her mind. I could feel it coming.

"Never in a million years did I think you would be ungrateful for what I'm trying to do for you." I focused on the gold and diamond ornaments on her left hand and not on her twisted expression.

"If you don't want me to help you, just say so and I'll back off. You can handle your own damned wedding and I'll still show up and smile. You just let me know right now."

Then my phone rang-it was Douglas.

She leaned back and sipped at her straw again, probably vowing to give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day.

"Hey, Doug. " I said his name aloud to justify answering the phone while Mad was chewing me out.

"I can't find the number for the church. I'm supposed to call Father Bridges to give him a time."

Mad whispered something to Tiff and they got up and walked over to the counter again.

I swung around on my chair toward the window.

"Ok-I'll get it out of my phone and text it to you."

"A'ight-thank you, babe. We said Tuesday at 7, right? That still okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm sure it won't take 2 hours for him to find out that we're ready. I should be able to make it to my meeting with my editor by 8:30."

"Cool. What the hell is Mad making you do today?"

"We're still dress-shopping. She's pissed that I didn't find anything I liked in the last 3 places."

He laughed-I love it when he laughs. I DO love this man. And I try to convince myself every day.

He told me he'd see me at home and I told him I loved him-once again to convince myself.

By now, Mad and Tiff were back with a huge hunk of chocolate cake and three forks.

"No, thank you. I almost zipped up my side in that last dress."

Mad chuckled as she stuffed a huge piece of the confection into her mouth, dropping a few crumbs on the table.

"Well, I'll eat your portion for you," she managed to say with cake stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Auntie," I said with my eyes planted directly on her. She paused as if she weren't going to respond.

"Sorry for what?"

"For not seeming grateful. I AM, I just don't like all this. Doug wants a big wedding so I'm playing along. If it was up to me, we'd be at the courthouse or in yours and Uncle Damon's living room. I'm just not an extravagant person."

"YES, I know..." she sneered, then smiling to soften the blow.

"I just don't understand you, girl," she said, wiping frosting from her mouth now. "Always wanna keep everything low-key. You write all these amazing stories but you don't want any adventure in your own life. If I had your gift-"

Then her phone rang.

I still couldn't stop thinking about Ian. I'd heard this particular lecture a million times so I knew where it was headed.

The next thing I knew, Mad was standing and beckoning for me and Tiff to come with her. It must have been Uncle Damon wanting dinner.

When we drove up to the gate at my complex, she was still talking to her husband-something about a television show that didn't record on DVR. Neither of them knew how to operate it properly but it was just something Tiff told them they HAD to have once money wasn't an issue. She came around the car to take over the shotgun spot and rolled her eyes in frustration by their conversation. I smiled at her and she smiled back and closed the door. I turned to walk towards the gate and heard the car window going down.

"Nava!"

Turning around, I saw Mad leaning over Tiff.

"I'll be back to get you tomorrow at 9:30. There's a place on 18^th street I wanna take you my girlfriend told me about. THAT'S where we're gonna find your dress, missy."

"Ok, auntie."

Her tires screeched away and I went into the pedestrian entrance toward the front of my building. Carl was waiting with an umbrella.

"You just missed the rain, Ms. Pinkett." He shook out the extra water on the side of the door and followed me in to go back to his office.

"I didn't even know it'd rained," I muttered and smiled to say good afternoon to him.

I walked past the mailboxes toward the elevator, but turned around and went back. Doug got on me just a day or two earlier for avoiding the mailbox because I anticipated letters from publishing companies to the point of obsession. I'd gone a month without so much as a glance toward Box 225.

Nothing but junk, though-grocery and electronics advertisement papers. I closed the box, and spun around to leave the mail room and dump this refuse into the trash bin near the door. Just as I was about to release my grip on the wad of wasted recycled paper, a small envelope fell to the tiled floor and slid underneath another row of mailboxes.

"Shit-"

I knelt down on one knee and held my hair with one hand so it wouldn't drag across the floor while I peered at the space where the envelope had run from me. I couldn't reach it, but I almost stopped breathing when I saw the return address-it was from Ian.

"Nava, what are you doing?"

The voice startled me-so did the sound of my name since it had come from Doug's mouth.

I looked up from my hands and knees to see that tall, handsome brown man standing there in sweats and a t-shirt. He looked thoroughly confused.

"I thought I dropped something." I stood up, making a split decision to leave it there until he was gone for fear of having to explain why I had mail from my ex-boyfriend.

"You think you dropped something?" he questioned, still looking confused.

"I heard something fall. It sounded like an earring or something. You know me-always losing things. Whatcha doing?"

I walked over to put my arms around his body and held my face up toward his for a kiss.

"I'm going to Kroger-we're out of strawberries."

We giggled and he kissed me. "Oh, are we," I breathed into the kiss.

"M-hm...and I'm not driving. I'm jogging. I'm not gonna let you make me a fat ass-sitting up in that house all comfortable and happy and let myself go." He kissed the spot on my jaw that he knew made me crazy.

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Yes, you will," I responded, watching him as he disappeared around the corner toward the entrance.

Then I was back on the floor with a folded piece of that paper from the wastepaper basket. I scooted the envelope toward me and finally had it in my hands.

As I went toward the elevator, I glanced back toward where Doug had gone to make sure I was alone.

There was no name printed with the return address-but it was definitely Ian's: 68 Lansing Terrace. I knew that address so well because it used to be mine, too.

I still couldn't open it until I was inside the condo. I leaned against the counter in the kitchen and fingered the envelope, turned it over. It was a plain, white business-size envelope. I imagined a letter inside or a picture of us that I'd left behind.

I couldn't do it. My heart was racing again and I opened the refrigerator to get a cold bottle of water. I moved to the living room and sat on the sofa with the envelope in hand, my bottle in the other. Just open it, dammit, I thought.

Reaching for a letter opener from the side table, I tore a jagged slit across the top of the envelope and pulled out a sheet of plain white paper folded three times.

I opened it slowly and saw familiar handwriting.

Nava,

I respect the fact that you've moved on with your life. I'm happy for you and I want you

to be happy so I'm not coming to the wedding. Just let me know how you're doing sometime.

Ian

That's all. He's backing off. I knew I should be relieved, but I wasn't. Part of me was looking forward to just seeing his face again. Even though I knew I loved Doug and answered yes when he proposed, I felt like something was undone with Ian-like we didn't hit rock bottom to know that we were really and truly finished.

My cell phone rang again-just in time to interrupt this bullshit.

"Girl, what are you doing at home? I thought you were dress shopping with your aunt."

It was my girlfriend, Felicia.

"I was-I mean, I did go. I just didn't see anything I liked."

"You didn't? Didn't she take you to Gatlin Square? And you didn't see ANYTHING?"

"No, girl-I tried on a thousand dresses but nothing really struck me. I don't wanna do this-"

Before I realized what I'd said and the way I'd stopped, she'd already started in with the what-the-hells.

"You don't wanna do WHAT? You better not be gettin' cold feet," she barked.

"I'm not, Licia. I meant that I don't like all the shit leading up to the actual part that matters-the planning, the dress shopping, the schmoozing and well-wishing-it's just making me sick to my stomach."

She sighed heavily into the phone.

"You're the only woman I know who doesn't get excited when she SHOULD. I'm taking you to a spa. When do you wanna go?"

We talked for another few minutes and she made me laugh uncontrollably as usual, talking about my aunt Madison and her money and how she had behaved at the engagement party.

Then I figured I'd better tell somebody about my secret encounter with Ian.

"You know when I was gone for a while and when I came back and you asked me where I'd been and I said I went to the bathroom?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I wasn't in the bathroom."

"Okay-so?"

"I was with Ian."

"Girl-what the hell did you do?"

Just as I was about to tell her, I heard the key in the door. Doug was back.

"I gotta call you back. Doug's home from the grocery store."

"Oh, uh-uh. You're just gon' leave me hanging like that?"

"Licia, I'll call you back."

I hung up before she could say anything else and crumpled up the letter from Ian. I went to greet Doug again.

He put the plastic bag on the counter and removed his t-shirt and started on the button to my jeans. We made love on the kitchen floor until the sun went down.

"Baby-turn the alarm off," I heard Doug say. It amazed me how his voice could wake me up but the blaring alarm clock couldn't. I reached over and slapped the snooze button taking note of the time. It was 8:14 am. Mad would be there in about an hour.

Doug came into the bathroom to shave while I was in the shower.

"Baby, is Ian coming?" he asked so nonchalant as if he was asking me if I had a head.

"What made you think about him?" I asked, heart racing again. I was afraid I'd develop hypertension before all this was over.

"I don't know-I saw an envelope on the side table with you guys' old address on it."

I finished rinsing and turned the water off. Wrapped in my towel, I walked over to Doug and put my arms around him.

"He just sent me some mail that came there for me. I thought I forwarded it all here-"

"Is he coming?"

"No, not that I know of. He didn't say. Would it bother you if he did?" I felt like an ass for turning this line of questioning around on him, but self-preservation kicked in.

"Naw, it wouldn't bother me. I just think he wants you back."

Now I turned to face him, curious.

"What makes you say that, baby?"

He scraped the blade along the left side of his face and dumped the contents into the sink.

"Well, I caught him looking at you the other night at your aunt's house. It didn't look like a I'm-happy-for-you look. It looked like something else."

Now I needed to avoid eye-contact completely. I passed through the closet to the bedroom and continued drying myself.

"What did it look like, Doug?"

"You don't need me to tell you what it looked like. Didn't you say you were the one to break it off the last time?"

I was getting more and more uncomfortable as the minutes drug on. I went back into the bathroom to hang my towel on the rack, stark naked so as to create a visual distraction for Doug.

"Doug, baby, I don't wanna talk about Ian. So what if he was looking at me crazy the other night-he lost the best thing in the world he had and he needs to grovel when he looks at how sexy you are and how happy I am when I'm with you."

Doug wiped his cleanly shaven face with a towel and turned toward me. He pulled me to him, encompassing my whole body and kissed my forehead. I felt my body tingle just from being so close to him. These kinds of physiological reactions don't happen unless there's something there, I thought, still convincing myself.

"I love you, LeNava." His mouth tasted sweet when he kissed me-his tongue felt like velveteen. He grabbed my ass and pulled me into him-I could feel him stiffening against my belly.

His kisses moved down my neck and before I knew it he had a nipple in his mouth.

"Baby! I gotta get ready! Mad'll be here in a few minutes." He pulled me close and kissed me again, and with a sly smile after his conquest, he released me and walked toward the closet.

"Yeah-I'll be home early tonight," he said with a hint of what he might have in store for me later.

I reveled in the moment just a bit longer, then I snapped myself back into the reality that I'd be driven a little more insane today with auntie and her neurosis.

I didn't think about Ian at all until early on the next week. I was getting ready for bed alone-Doug was having dinner with some colleagues across the bay and told me not to wait up. I'd just finished coming to terms with my writer's block and closed my laptop for the final time when the doorbell rang.

I put on my robe, hoping it was just a neighbor and could get naked again immediately after I addressed whatever it was he/she needed.

When I opened the door, I wanted to go back in time a few seconds and check the peephole first.

"Ian,"

"Hey, Nav."

"You can't just show up-"

"I know Doug's not here. I didn't see his car downstairs. Do we have a few minutes?"

"Ian, I live here with another man. You CAN'T just show up!"

"I won't stay long-I promise. Just let me come in and talk to you for a minute."

I was trying so hard to let him know I was pissed, but apparently it wasn't working because I WASN'T pissed. I was happy to see him. But I was determined that he wouldn't know that.

I stood aside and let him walk in-to the home I shared with Doug. He just went to the living room like he was at home.

"I know I shouldn't be here-" he started, looking up at me with the same eyes I'd looked into for almost 9 years prior to the 3 years I'd spent with Doug. It was like he knew they would pierce my heart and I'd listen to anything he had to say. I didn't say anything back-I was too busy trying to make sure my thighs were covered.

"I just needed to see you and I didn't want to show up at your pre-marital counseling session tomorrow. That would be totally inappropriate."

"Wait-how did you-"

"We did it too, remember? We met with Father Bridges. I didn't know it was really tomorrow." He smiled at me-that same smile that used to make my knees weak-for almost...9... years.

"I really just came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

"Yeah-I'm leaving Rathport. I'm going out West. I got a job offer with another steel company."

Something inside me began to lament-I didn't know how to respond so that he didn't get any impression that I was going to miss him, or that I wanted him to stay and make my life miserable by just being around.

"No congratulations?" he asked, trying to force me to react.

"Yeah, of course. That's great, Ian. I'm glad for you."

It felt just as dry coming out as it must have sounded to him.

"And, just so you know, I'm going alone."

"I didn't ask-"

"I know. I didn't want you to have to wonder. Dina said she couldn't leave Rathport. So we broke up."

"You asked her to go with you?" Damn-I knew that sounded like I was concerned and wished I could stuff it back in my mouth.

"I knew she wouldn't. That's why I asked her to get it out in the open. She was only with me for my money."

"What makes you say that?" I got up now to look out the window. I suddenly felt paranoia-I didn't want Doug to come back and find Ian here with me-naked under my robe. His parking space was still empty.

"I just know. She also couldn't stop obsessing about you."

I turned to look at him.

"What do you mean, obsessing about me?"

He chuckled before he spoke. "She said she knew I still had feelings for you. She caught me looking at you a certain way, supposedly-at the engagement party."

I thought about what Doug had said to me days ago. So everybody had seen this loaded glance that I never even noticed had come my way.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ian. She seemed like a-keeper."

"Yeah, well-" he paused, looking at me again.

"They all pale in comparison."

Awkward silence. I didn't want to say anything to encourage him. I could feel that he wanted to kiss me-and I wanted him to.

"You have to go, Ian."

I walked down the foyer toward the door. Before I could unlock it, he was right behind me. I could smell his cologne-the one I'd bought for him years before that he wore with some strange dedication.

"I won't bother you again. Like I said, I just wanted to say goodbye, but I felt like it'd be disrespectful if it wasn't in person."

When I turned around to face him, his mouth was so close to mine I could almost taste it. I felt my body temperature raising and my thighs were sticking to each other.

He embraced me first but I didn't hug him back right away.

"I wish you were coming with me. I'll get used to this someday."

I finally put my arms around him. He felt like a down comforter right out of the dryer in a harsh winter. I pulled away from him and opened the door. He walked to the other side of it and toward the elevator, but turned around just in time to see a tear fall down my cheek.

"Did you get my letter?"

"Yeah-I got it."

The elevator reached my floor and when the doors opened, he looked back at me.

"I do wish it could have been us."

I was re-locking myself in as the elevator doors shut and more tears came. I stood on the other side of the door until I heard the elevator open again. Terrified that Doug had just passed him in the lobby, I hustled to the bedroom and got under the covers. It wasn't him, though. I laid in bed sobbing uncontrollably for what seemed like an hour. When Doug got home, I pretended to be asleep. He just came to bed and held me-clueless.

"The sign looks fine, Nava."

"No, it's crooked."

My first book-signing had to be perfect. Felicia was frustrated with me, but I didn't care.

The owner of New Grounds came switching his little 4-foot-11 self over to where we were setting up.

"Do you have your guest list, Mrs. Jackson?" I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out the folded piece of legal paper.

"Here it is."

"Thanks-I'll make sure they have this at the counter. Your guests will get a free coffee and dessert if they want." He was grinning from ear to ear as he walked away again.

"Felicia, what am I doing?" I asked, suddenly feeling really uneasy.

"What do you mean, what are you doing? You're in the belly of success, girl. You got your book published, it's gonna be a best-seller and you're gonna have a bunch of new readers by the end of the night."

She fussed with the sign in the window one more time then she went off to find the owner again. I read the copy from the back-"Passion without a Flame, by Nava Jackson."

What the hell DID I know about passion, I thought. I'm just a self-help writer with no idea how to help herself.

Then I felt a familiar presence grab me from behind. It was my husband.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, kissing my neck.

"Hey." I turned to face him with a genuine smile. He'd stuck by me through all this insanity-the fervor to finish the book, the publishing nightmare that could have been avoided had I self-published like he and Felicia suggested, and was by my side tonight for support.

"You look like a piece of red velvet cake," he said, his eyes traveling up and down my body.

"You should take a bite," I said playfully, feeling my mood change almost instantaneously with his positive attitude.

"OH, I WILL when we get home. You got some fans coming in now, though."

I looked over his shoulder and saw about 10 people enter the coffee shop with my book in hand. It felt like I'd just served my first Thanksgiving dinner and had no idea if the turkey was cooked all the way.

"Oh, god..."

"It's gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just relax. Look over at me if you feel nervous and I'll make a face or something."

He kissed me quickly and went over to where Felicia and the owner were standing. She was arguing with him about something. Doug diffused it, as usual, and led Felicia away and made her sit down.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked him when he came back near me.

"Something about being entitled to more free shit because she's calling herself the 'event coordinator'. Your friend is a fool."

I laughed out loud and a few patrons looked over at me. "She's a damned trip."

"Always has and always will be," I said, taking my seat on the stool and adjusting the microphone. As people started to sit in the chairs in front of me, I felt my heart again. But it nearly left my chest when I looked up and caught a glimpse of one particular patron I wasn't expecting-Ian.

He was alone, had my book in his left hand, and sat on the last row. He avoided my gaze at first as I was trying to avoid his, smiling at other people coming to the area we were in, but eventually our eyes met and a familiar magnetism kept them there for a little too long.

Felicia was staring at him with her mouth wide open and I couldn't get her attention. Doug was nowhere in sight for me to try to distract him. Then it was time to start the reading.

My voice was shaking and I felt perspiration under my arms, but I got through it by doing everything possible to avoid looking at this man from my past who'd shown up unannounced again and again.

I thought Doug hadn't seen him, but he came over to me while I was autographing books and whispered to me, "Did you know Ian was gonna be here?"

I shrugged, trying to maintain composure and so as not to seem distracted from the people who'd left their homes or wherever to come listen to me rant about my own book.

He went over to where Ian was and I felt a hard lump in my chest. He extended his hand for Ian to shake it. He stood there engaging Ian for a little too long as far as I was concerned.

Felicia was soon putting her two cents in.

"What the hell, girl?"

"I don't know, but I'm gonna play this shit off as long as I can."

She laughed and sat in a chair near me. "Did you know he was coming?"

"

To? Janet-ok. Um, no...had NO clue. I'm just as surprised as you and Doug are."

Finally, Ian walked away and left Doug standing there. My husband, the man I'd exchanged vows with, came over to me and Felicia and stood behind me. He leaned over to discreetly tell me, "He said he came back to wrap up something with the house-he saw an ad in the paper about this and came to buy one. At least he's supporting your enterprise."

I was relieved by Doug's light-hearted comment and Felicia looked like she was able to breathe now since Doug and I were smiling at each other.

The next thing I knew, she was on her way over to talk to Ian. I knew I had to stop that.

"Excuse me, just a minute," I apologized to the next person in line.

Trying desperately not to cause a scene before the scene that was about to be caused, I walked quickly over to Felicia and caught her just as she was about to lay into Ian.

"Licia! Girl, what are you doing?"

Within earshot, Ian turned around and looked at us both.

"Hey, Ian!" she said with the most disingenuous tone.

"Felicia-wassup, girl." Then he looked at me and said nothing. He just smiled.

"What brings YOU tonight? How'd you find out about this? Did you go through Nava's mail or something?"

"Licia, go get some coffee or something, please," I instructed with my hand gripping her wrist. She gave him a look that could have pierced through iron and spun around on her stiletto to go back to the reading section. The next thing I knew, she had snatched up her purse and was on her way toward the door and fumbling with her cell phone.

I reluctantly turned my eyes toward Ian.

"Hi, Ian."

"Hey, Nav. I hope this wasn't a mistake,"

"No, it's fine. It's a free country-this is a public place. I can't say it's NOT a surprise to see you here, though."

"Yeah, I know-I was just telling Doug-"

"I know-something with the house. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. It sold last week. I'm just here for the closing."

"Oh-well, that's good to hear. I'm sure it was a hassle dealing with it from the Midwest."

"Yeah-you could say that. The deal went really well, though. It was easier than I thought."

A brief silence-then he spoke again.

"Had no idea I'd have a chance to see this. I'm glad for you."

"Thank you-it all still seems kind of surreal."

By now, I felt myself slipping a little too far into that comfort zone and the owner came to remind me of the people still waiting for autographs. I looked around and didn't see if Felicia had come back in. My coordinator was slipping on the job.

Ian said he was going to stick around a few more minutes as I made my way back to the thick of the crowd. I looked up from the 3^rd book in line and saw Doug, standing near the entrance and staring out toward the street, but was spacing. He looked upset.

Things kept going on and on, it seemed and Doug hadn't said much else to me. Ian had pulled a disappearing act and when I noticed that, Felicia came sauntering back in but looked like she'd just had a tryst in the bushes with somebody.

"I'm sorry, girl-had a little business to tend to."

She caught up with the owner again and seemed to be apologizing from what I could see across the room-then she said she needed to leave and would call me later. She scooted out of the place with her cell phone plastered to her ear. Must be another one of her boyfriends, I thought.

When Doug and I got home, he didn't come in right after me. I heard him bumping around in the garage and went back out to see what he was doing.

"Baby, what are you-"

"I can't find the bags for the lawnmower. Have you seen 'em? That shit's out of control. Did you see it when we pulled in?"

"They're over there on the shelf, Doug."

He didn't look at me. I closed the door and poured water into the tea kettle. I didn't want any damned tea-I was just waiting for him to come inside.

He came in a minute or two later.

"I don't care about Ian, baby."

He knew exactly why I was waiting there.

"You don't?"

"No-not at all. He said he didn't know you finished the book. He wanted to come support you. I thought that was cool of him."

He stood a few feet from me and took his jacket off. His shoulders were so broad, his chest so strong and solid. My eyes followed his form down his slightly bowed legs to his brown leather boots. My eyes returned to his with a smile. I'd underestimated him.

"But when I saw you at the door-"

"At the door?" he looked away, noticeably trying to recap his movements that night.

"Yeah-you were standing there alone. You were looking outside but you had that look-like when you're...upset about something and don't wanna talk to anybody."

He came over to where I was standing and leaned over to kiss me. He smelled so good. He lifted me up to sit me down on the countertop and gently wedged himself between my legs. Holding me close and putting little kisses on my forehead and my nose and my cheeks, he said, "I was just so happy for you, baby. And so proud."

I felt a well gathering in both eyes and didn't even bother trying to conceal them.

"Thank you," I said through a crackly voice and kissed my husband. The tea kettle reminded me it was getting hot and he kissed me again before reaching over to remove it from the eyelet for me. "I got this," he said, and returned to press his lips against mine again.

"If I was worried about anything," he started to say as he began unbuttoning my blouse, "It was just how in the hell I would keep Felicia's mouth from getting us kicked out!" We both laughed out loud and, because we have a thing about kitchens, the water in the tea kettle got cold.

I hated being awakened by the alarm clock, but the phone was worse.

"Hey, auntie."

"Hey, baby. How'd the book signing go last week?"

"It went really well, thanks to Doug and Licia."

"I'm sorry me and your uncle couldn't make it. We took Tiff back to campus and you know how that drive is-wiped us out. How many people showed?"

I was distracted by the doorbell.

"Auntie, can I call you right back? There's somebody at my door."

"Okay, sweetie. I'm about to go to the spa so if I don't answer, I'll call you when I get done."

I managed to pull myself up from my favorite napping spot on the sofa. It was a rainy Saturday and I had no idea who'd be at my door.

I looked out of the side window and there were two men dressed in slacks and collared shirts. They looked like policemen.

"Mrs. Jackson?"

"Yes..."

"I'm Detective Harrelson and this is Detective Neil. Could we talk with you?"

My mind was racing, but not quite fast enough. What in the-

I invited them in to sit down. My immediate thought was that something had happened to Doug.

"I'll just get right to the point. We're investigating a homicide, ma'am and we're trying to talk to any and everyone who knew Ian Thomas."

"Excuse me? What do you mean 'knew?'" I felt my breath getting faster and my head felt like a balloon.

I was opening my eyes. That moment when you are made aware of your consciousness. Doug was leaning over me. I remembered being in the kitchen but now I was lying on the sofa with a towel on my forehead.

"Nava? Can you hear me?" he said as frantically as he could sound. He seemed calmer as soon as he saw my eyes.

"She's okay, sir."

I realized I hadn't dreamt the two men. They were still in my living room. Now there was a woman there too. She had her hair pulled back and was dressed in a police uniform.

"I'm Officer Middleton. I'm sorry to give you this news."

"What news?" I asked sitting up a little too fast and feeling a pounding in my temple.

The first man who'd done the talking, Det. Harrelson started talking again but he addressed the police officer.

"She fainted just as we told her-she might be suffering from a little retrograde amnesia." Then he looked back at me.

"The homicide? We found a few things in Mr. Thomas' house that led us here."

Then the officer spoke.

"Ma'am, we were alerted to 68 Lansing Terrace and found a body. It was Mr. Thomas."

The tears were falling before I could take my next breath. This couldn't be happening. Doug was sitting on the edge of the sofa and gathered me up into his arms. They kept talking but I didn't really hear them.

The apparent cause of death was strangulation-there was evidence of a struggle- he was pronounced dead at the scene-no witnesses, if any, had come forward with any information-there were suitcases near the door as if he was planning to leave-there was a deed on the dining room table with a different name so we assume he was selling the property-we have no idea where Mr. Thomas was headed yet...

I couldn't breathe. I felt Doug holding me but I felt weightless. One of the detectives stood and walked around looking at our things.

"What are you looking for?" I felt myself say.

"Just surveying the area, ma'am-not looking for anything in particular. How long did you know Mr. Thomas?"

I thought for a minute, but Doug responded for me.

"She and Ian have known each other for more than 12 years."

Det. Neil wrote furiously on a tiny little notepad. He didn't say much.

"Twelve years? Did you ever reside there? At 68 Lansing Terrace?" Officer Middleton pulled out a notepad as well.

"Yes, I did. For about four years-with Ian."

I couldn't make sense of it. Who could have strangled Ian? Who would want to kill him?

"Did he say anything to you about who'd bought his house?"

"No-we've barely spoken in almost a year."

They asked more questions and eventually Doug got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When he came back and handed it to me, he sounded angry when he addressed the intruders.

"Look, I think you've asked enough dumb ass questions. If you think she's a suspect, just say so. Otherwise, you need to get out of our house. She's already been through enough."

The men and woman stopped writing and, without hesitation, rose and began filing out of the room.

Det. Harrelson turned back as Doug started after them. He held out a tiny, white business card.

"If you come across anything you think might help this case, please, give me a call."

"Yeah, we will," Doug replied and kept moving to urge them out towards the front door.

I listened as he turned the dead bolt and he came back to sit with me.

"How's your head, Nava?"

"It still hurts."

"Yeah, you hit it pretty hard."

He took the towel and walked back over to the kitchen.

"I hit my head?"

"Yeah, when you fainted, you hit the floor like a ton of bricks."

I tried to readjust myself but it just made my head hurt worse. I sank down into the couch and tried to be completely still.

"This is some crazy shit, isn't it?" Doug said when he came back with a colder towel. He knelt down on the floor beside me and rested his arm on the cushion.

"Who the hell would wanna kill Ian?"

I had no clue.

"I have no clue, baby."

"Could just be some crazy random robbery that went bad."

"Maybe-but there was a struggle. It had to have been someone that hated him-to watch the life drain right out of him."

"Yeah-I know. Not like a gunshot that ends it fast. It's like they wanted to watch him die."

I was sobbing again and Doug rubbed my back until I was not-so-deeply unconscious again.

I woke up this time in our bed and heard the shower. Doug wasn't beside me.

I had no idea what time it was. The clock revealed 9:15 pm. It was dark out.

I sat up slowly, hoping not to feel any more pain in my head. Luckily, it was gone.

When I got to the bathroom, Doug was turning off the water and stepping out onto the floor.

"Hey, beautiful," he said wiping the droplets from his face.

"Hey," I said back to him. "What made you want to shower this time of night?"

He tied the towel around his waist and walked over to plant a kiss on my forehead.

"I was funky-just went for a run. I couldn't get in bed with you like that."

He seemed unphased by what had just transpired earlier that day.

"I don't know if I can sleep anymore. I was dreaming about that shit."

"Yeah, I can imagine you were." He dried his short, black hair and then stopped to look at me through the mirror's reflection.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He caught me off guard with his question.

"Not really-I don't really know what I'm feeling right now. I think I'm kinda in shock."

He came over to me in his wonderful nakedness yet I felt nothing remotely arousing and he sensed it.

"Do you want me to make you something hot to drink? It might help you fall asleep again."

I touched his smooth chest. "No, baby. I think I'm gonna go write."

He pressed his lips against my forehead and his palm rested on the back of my head.

"You know you don't have to be okay. Nobody ever thinks they'll lose someone close to them this way-and I know how much you loved him."

Now I was really caught off guard. I didn't know how to respond so I didn't.

Doug walked around me toward the closet and pulled some pajama bottoms out of his chest of drawers. I could hear him in the bedroom pulling back the covers and sighing as he settled his body on the mattress. I went into my office and shut the door and didn't come out until morning.

It'd been a week since we got the news about Ian. I hadn't been able to write anything but journal entries about how I was feeling and a deadline with my publisher was fast-approaching. They gave me until the end of the month-that was 2 weeks away.

I was on my way to Felicia's house to have lunch. She asked me to come over without any verbal pretense but I figured she was probably worried about me. She was good for that. She found excuses to get together so she could find out for herself if I was REALLY okay when Ian and I split up for the last time. It was the best friend and hair dresser in her-she had a knack for making me pour out my true feelings to her.

When I pulled into her driveway, I had to park on the right side. A large white van with "Rathport Hardwoods, Inc." printed on the side was taking up the left.

"Hey, girl!" she shouted from the porch.

I grabbed my bag and got out of the car. She came down to the sidewalk to meet me.

"Hey, Licia."

"You'll have to excuse the mess-I'm getting some hardwoods for my living room and dining room. I think Michael is allergic to whatever's in my carpet. He had a sneezing fit the other night that lasted for almost 10 minutes. Come in!"

Michael was her new boyfriend-well, they'd been together almost 6 months now but for Felicia that was still new. If anybody was equally afraid of commitment and being alone, it was my best girlfriend.

I didn't see the hardwood person for the first few minutes I was there. Then I heard the toilet flush in the half-bathroom downstairs and a very tall man emerged wearing a polo with the Rathport Hardwoods insignia across the left side of his chest. He was very cute. I knew Felicia had been flirting with him already.

"Ms. Norris, I think I've got my measurements. We can go over the estimate now if you're ready." His voice didn't match his build at all-very soft and higher pitched than I'd imagined.

Felicia gave me a look and she followed him into the dining room to sit at the table. It was the can-you-believe-how-fine-this-man-is look. I just shook my head at her and went up to the split-level loft to cop a squat. I reached for the remote to the TV and turned it on. The first program to come up was the local news. I was about to change the channel when the newscaster said, "Murder in Rathport-after the break." I was transfixed and couldn't change the channel. I had to see if they'd mention Ian's murder.

When the seemingly endless commercial break was over, they started in.

"An otherwise quiet portside community is rocked by terror when a local man, Ian Thomas, is found murdered in his home at 68 Lansing Terrace. Police are still baffled as to how this could have happened in a town with the lowest crime rate within a 50-mile radius. However, detectives say there is a break on the horizon in solving the heinous crime."

I was immobile in my seat-I couldn't even hear Felicia and her new crush talking anymore.

"We're currently awaiting test results from forensics," a familiar voice declared. The camera then revealed one of the detectives who'd been to my house. "Several fibers were retrieved from the deceased's person's neck wounds and we're hoping the results will lead us to our suspect."

Wounds? They said he was strangled. Why would there be wounds that fibers would settle in?

The police woman, Officer Middleton was interviewed next.

"We haven't been able to find any next-of-kin for Mr. Thomas. The only people we've questioned so far were a former girlfriend of his and we're currently trying to reach the individual who'd purchased the home from Mr. Thomas. He apparently hadn't had any neighbors in years."

The newscaster went on to say that Ian had been living outside of Rathport for several months and it is assumed that he was only in town for the purpose of releasing the deed to his home. I expected to cry again, but couldn't. I figured I'd finally reached the point of being numb to all this. The next story was about a baby giraffe being born at the local zoo. Always a great thing to hear that another wild animal has been born into captivity.

My cell phone started to ring. It was Doug.

"Hey, you," he said quietly. He must have been in court.

"Hey, baby." I answered, pressing buttons on the remote control now but not even paying attention to how many times I'd gone through all the channels.

"You at Felicia's?"

"Yeah-how'd you know?"

"She told me-she called me to see if I'd gotten you anything and if I didn't she wanted me to wait."

Wow-in all this, I'd forgotten my own damned birthday.

"Why are you whispering?"

"I'm waiting outside for a prelim hearing-I don't want the prosecutor to know I'm on the phone. They'll think I'm talking to my client, who didn't bother to show up on time. And you know that since they're going for a Murder 2 conviction..."

I was completely distracted by the television again. There was a commercial for a steel mill in Nebraska. I didn't hear a word Doug had said.

"Babe, I'll call you later, okay? I love you."

"I love y-"

He hung up before I could finish. And before I could put my cell phone down on the cushion beside me, it rang again. It was a Rathport number, but I had no clue who it was. Against my better judgment, I answered.

"Mrs. Jackson?"

"Yes, speaking-" I knew the voice right away. It was one of those detectives.

"Do you think you could come down to the station this afternoon? We have a few more questions we need to ask you."

"I really don't know what else you'd have to ask me."

"Please, Mrs. Jackson-it's about some things retrieved from the scene. There was something that raised suspicion about someone close to you."

"What do you mean, someone close to me?"

There was a short pause and I could hear someone talking in the background.

"Mrs. Jackson, we have reason to believe that your husband may have been involved. We'll need you to help us to verify his whereabouts on the night in question."

I think I stopped breathing. Felicia came in and roused me.

"Oh, my god, Nav-he gave me his number! I was trying to keep it strictly professional and the next thing I knew he was giving me his business card. His name's Wa-"

She noticed that I was preoccupied and stopped. I still had the phone to my ear.

"Mrs. Jackson? Are you still there?"

"Girl, what is the matter with you? You look like you just saw a ghost. My house better NOT be haunted...I just finished paying my second mortgage."

"Mrs. Jackson?"

"Yes, yes! Okay-I'll come." I didn't mean to shout but I suddenly felt like my senses were overloaded-or like I'd just been submerged in a pool and finally raised my head to get the water out of my ears.

Licia looked totally confused and offended.

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?"

"They think Doug had something to do with it."

That little white business card she held went somersaulting to the floor.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Jackson."

Felicia was out in the car. She refused to come in. She said police stations smelled bad and the fluorescent lights might give her a migraine after all this. I don't know how I made it into Detective Neil's office but I was finally aware of my surroundings and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

"Does your husband know that you're here?"

"No-" I had to clear my throat. "No, he doesn't know I'm here. He's with a client."

"Good-it's probably better this way. We wouldn't want to jeopardize the investigation at this point."

"What am I here for again?" I didn't want any small talk-I wanted to hear what they had to tell me.

"We have some test results-on some fibers found at the crime scene, specifically in one of the wounds on Mr. Thomas's neck."

"He was strangled, wasn't he?" I asked as if they'd forgotten what they'd told me.

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Thomas's cause of death was ruled asphyxiation. But something was used-"

"Something? What something?"

"Fishing wire."

"What? Fishing wire? How the hell-"

"We were just as baffled, Mrs. Jackson. Mr. Thomas did not have any fishing gear anywhere in the house and did not appear to be going on a fishing trip."

By now, another person had entered the room somewhere in between mine and Det. Neil's back-and-forth. I didn't turn around, but eventually Det. Harrelson came to sit on the edge of the desk between the other detective and me.

"Evening, Mrs. Jackson. I'm sure my partner here has informed you of our latest information."

I nodded, still not really able to process this.

"So what makes you think Doug had anything to do with this?"

Det. Harrelson looked back at Det. Neil, then at me.

"Does your husband own a dark maroon cashmere scarf, Mrs. Jackson?"

Now I really felt sick. Mad had given it to him for Christmas the year before. He hated it and NEVER wore it. It was in a box in the garage along with some other things I was planning to take to Goodwill. Then visual memory reminded me that the last time I'd noticed that box, it had been moved up to a shelf I couldn't reach. I'd been meaning to ask Doug to put it back where it was for weeks.

"I need to get some air."

My head felt like a balloon again. I went all the way out of the building to where Felicia had parked her car and promptly emptied the contents of my stomach onto the pavement. I heard the car door open.

"Nava! Are you okay?" Her heels tapped frantically on the pavement. She made it over to me with tissues in hand.

"I don't think so..."

"What happened in there?"

I walked back toward the building, seeing someone walking past and staring but it didn't matter at this point.

"I don't know." We sat on a nearby bench and she turned to face me.

"What did they say? Can you tell me?"

I looked down at my wedding ring and back at her.

"I couldn't stay in there. It got all stuffy and hot and-"

"What did they SAY, Nava? Have they FOUND anything?"

I took a deep breath, almost heaving. "They found fibers on Ian-there was fishing wire. There were fibers from a scarf..."

It didn't take much to job Felicia's memory about Doug's connection to this scarf-the new evidence in a murder case.

"That scarf? That hideous red scarf?"

"You remember, too."

"Yeah, he HATED that thing. The scarf?"

"I can't believe this is happening. I feel like my mind is about to unravel."

"No, don't you break down. You can't. You have to face this. I'll go back in with you-and you KNOW that's saying a LOT." She stood up and waited for me to rise from the bench.

"If Doug has been lying to you, I'll kill him myself," she roared as we crossed the threshold of the entrance. It didn't even occur to me right away how misdirected that sounded, but I knew she was just over-protecting me.

When we got back inside, Detective Harrelson was standing near the entrance talking to a police officer.

"Mrs. Jackson, are you all right? Can I get you something to drink?"

"No-I'm fine."

I remembered how to get to the office we were in before and sat down. Detective Neil followed us in with another chair for Felicia.

"Now-if you need a minute..."

"No, I'm fine. And yes, my husband owns a scarf like that. My aunt gave it to him for Christmas last year. We were gonna-HE was gonna get rid of it. He never wore it."

"Get rid of it?" the detective asked, his words dripping with suspicion.

"To Goodwill-he was going to give it to Goodwill. It was in the garage so my aunt wouldn't see it and know he was giving it away."

Felicia had my left hand in hers and was rubbing it like a mother cat licking the tops of its babies' little heads.

"And you, Mrs.-"

"Mizzz Norris."

"Ms. Norris-have you ever seen this scarf? Can you verify that you've seen this scarf at Mrs. Jackson's residence?"

She looked at me as if she wanted me to give her permission to answer.

"Yes, I have. I was at their condo when he opened it."

"At the condo? I didn't realize you'd lived in another residence in the last 12 months."

"We did-we just moved to the house in Berkshire Heights 5 months ago," I said without prompting. "We got married in May, he bought the house in June and we moved in July. We've only been there since then."

"I see-"

"Do you know who is living in the condo right now? Who purchased the unit after you and your husband vacated?" Harrelson was asking now.

"No-no clue."

Det. Neil chimed in again.

"Well, Mrs. Jackson, did you not know that your husband has been seen leaving his condo within the past week?"

Now I was thoroughly confused. It wasn't making sense at all.

"What? I don't understand..."

"Unit 12B-in Stassney Estates? Near the bay..."

"Yes, I lived there with him for more than a year. What are you talking about? He sold the condo. Why would he be back there?"

"Mrs. Jackson, your husband didn't sell the condo. The deed is still in his name and the doorman, Carl, says he's seen Mr. Jackson come and go at least twice since last Tuesday."

He didn't associate with anyone in that building. He never said more than 5 words to any of the residents. He didn't even like Carl.

"He didn't sell it?"

Now my phone was ringing again. Speak of the devil I apparently didn't know at all-

"Baby, I'm on my way home. Do you want me to pick up anything?"

I looked at the detectives who were looking back at me. I looked at Felicia. She didn't seem to have any emotion behind her eyes. I think she was just waiting for a chance to say I-told-you-so, but she was going to wait.

"No-no, baby. I'm okay."

"Are you still at Felicia's? Do you want me to meet you over there?"

"No! No, I'm not at Felicia's but I'll be home soon. Just wait for me at home, okay?"

My voice was starting to crack so I just hurried through a 'love you' and ended the call.

"Was that Mr. Jackson?"

"Yeah."

Felicia gripped my hand and I felt a droplet hit the back of it. She didn't want me to know she was crying. She quickly wiped it with a tissue she was holding in her other hand.

"All they do is hurt you," she said, still not looking at me. Now I was consoling her. My talent for defense kicked in.

"Now, Mrs. Jackson, this isn't going to be easy to hear, but we feel that you have a right to know where we're headed with this."

Detective Harrelson kept his eyes fixed on me as he paused to make sure that he had my undivided and ever-present attention.

"We believe that your husband had the motive, the strength, and the penned up aggression-or jealousy-that could have led him to kill Mr. Thomas. We just don't have enough to charge him yet. We still can't figure out the fishing wire angle-if and where it was discarded-so we have no murder weapon."

They went on a few more minutes talking about details and my whereabouts on the night Ian was killed, Doug's whereabouts which I couldn't account for since I'd been up at odd hours of the night while he slept and sleeping during the day while he was at work or home on some weekend days when he didn't have to work.

"The medical examiner estimates that Mr. Thomas was attacked a little after 11:30 that evening."

"What evening was that?" Felicia asked over a sniffle.

"September 14^th."

Felicia and I looked at each other. The date was significant. It registered immediately.

My book signing happened on September 14^th.

"My husband couldn't have done this-he was with me that night. All night."

"Are you certain of that, Mrs. Jackson?"

"Yes. We drove home together and we spent the night in our home. We even-made love that night."

Detective Harrelson cleared his throat and looked at Detective Neil as if they were exchanging some kind of secret, unspoken code.

When they were ready to address us again, Det. Harrelson spoke.

"Okay. Do you think there's any chance that someone may have taken the scarf-"

"There wasn't anyone else in our house that night, detective." I was starting to feel like I had the upper hand now. I'd presented to them, on a silver platter, a dead end in their investigation.

"All right. So you may have just presented an alibi for your husband. Now we'll probably need to speak with him directly-"

"I told you the truth. You can ask him whatever you want to ask him. He was with me allnight."

Felicia still exuded uneasiness and I was trying desperately to convince myself that I was making sense.

"There have got to be a hundreds of red, cashmere scarves in Rathport. When you don't have DNA evidence, you can't just go accusing random people."

The law enforcement agents were speechless and obviously withholding some choice words for me.

"Am I free to go?" The bitch in me was coming out.

"Yes, Mrs. Jackson-Ms. Norris. You are free to go."

On the way back to Felicia's to pick up my car, neither of us said a word. When we pulled into the driveway,

"Is that still the hardwoods guy?" I asked as if she couldn't see what I was seeing.

"Yeah, girl. I told him to meet me back here. I didn't think we'd be there THAT long."

She surprisingly dismissed me rather quickly, asking if I'd be okay but almost not waiting for the answer to say 'goodnight!' and head to the driver's side of the van. I decided already that she would apologize for it later-but then I decided I was being silly. She'd just wasted 3 hours of her life that she'll never get back at a police station with me. She had most assuredly put in some best-friend overtime.

I drove home slowly, crying intermittently on the way.

When I got to the garage, I saw Doug's SUV parked inside. I couldn't help but notice, though, on the way in the door, that the box was gone.

I awoke to the smell of breakfast-French toast, eggs, some kind of breakfast meat.

I remembered lying next to my sleeping husband, but didn't remember falling asleep.

When I made it downstairs to the kitchen, he was standing shirtless and wearing a little g-string with a fuzzy red cup on the front bearing an embroidered, "Be Mine"-this I could see very clearly when he turned around to smile from ear to ear at me. I burst into laughter.

"I didn't get to celebrate your birthday with you last night," he said, turning back to flip the big, puffy omelet in the frying pan. "So I figured I'd make sure we spent the day AFTER your birthday celebrating." For a moment, I completely erased the previous night's events from my mind. I walked around the breakfast bar to kiss my husband-my sweet, silly husband who was wearing a Valentine's Day outfit with his ass hanging out for my birthday and not the least bit worried about humiliating himself.

"Baby..." came from my lips as they kissed Doug's back. He was soft and warm and solid all at once. I pressed myself into him, enjoying how his body felt against me.

"It's almost ready. Get some plates. I'm gonna go take this ridiculous thing off."

I giggled as he put the omelet on the plate I'd put on the counter. The oven was hot-I almost burned myself when I turned the temperature down.

When he got back, he was wearing shorts.

He came to me and scooped me into his arms.

"Now," he said. "A proper good morning for my baby."

He kissed me and I was able to pretend everything was okay.

After breakfast, he told me he had the whole day planned out and that this was just the beginning. He quickly put all the dishes in the dishwasher and led me upstairs to get dressed.

"You don't have to work today, Doug?"

"Nope. I canceled all my appointments today."

He smiled across the table. He was one of the sweetest men I'd ever known.

Then I decided to ask, just for my own knowledge, what he'd done with the box in the garage.

"Oh, I took it to drop it off at the donation center. I didn't want you to have anything else to do since you've been trying to focus on finishing that manuscript."

He turned on the shower for me and started removing my t-shirt and panties.

"That was really sweet of you, Doug. Thank you, sweetheart."

"That's what husbands do-make things work. Compromise. Remove any unnecessary distractions."

My smile faded. Suddenly I was catapulted from bliss to reality. There was a murder investigation underway of my ex-boyfriend and my husband was just recently a suspect. AND he might have lied to me about still owning the condo...

"Doug,"

"Yes, my baby,"

He was removing his shorts to come with me into the shower.

I lost my nerve-I can pretend everything's okay today, I told myself. He's gone through all the trouble of trying to make this day special for me. I decided not to ask him.

"Never mind-it can wait."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the shower with him.

"You sure?" he said, standing underneath the cascading water and letting it trickle from his both onto mine. Before I was able to respond, he had kissed me.

"M-hm," was all I could utter.

"Good-cause I don't plan on entertaining much conversation right now."

He proceeded to fuck me like he used to before we got married in the shower, on the floor outside the shower, in the closet on the way to the bedroom, in the bed, on the floor in the bedroom, in the upstairs hallway, on the stairs and once we made it back to the bed, I couldn't move.

Laying in his arms-spent and trying to calm my breathing, sweat sealing our skin together-I looked up at my husband. He was trying not to fall asleep-I could tell by the way his breathing pattern was changing.

"Doug, baby,"

"Hmm?"

He brought his free hand around his body to rest on my hip and traced his hand down the length of my thigh. He tilted his head forward and kissed my forehead.

"We didn't do anything you planned for us, did we?"

He managed to laugh slightly.

"Mmm-mm."

"I'm glad we had a change of plans."

"Mmm-hm."

I held him tighter and he sighed. I could feel him still smiling even though he was drifting off.

And now was as good a time as any-for some reason, I thought it'd be a good idea.

"Baby,"

"Hmm?" Now he sounded like he was getting frustrated with me talking to him.

"You sold the condo, right??"

Now his lips opened for him to speak more clearly.

"Huh? You know I sold it baby. Why would you ask me that?"

"Who'd you sell it to? I just realized I never knew-you never told me."

"I don't know-some lady from Newark."

"You don't remember her name?"

"Something weird-foreign-like JEHZ-gu-VEEK, or something. She kept fussing about fuckin' hardwood floors."

"Hardwoods?"

"Yeah, the bitch insisted that I have hardwoods put in-she kept saying 'too much-hardvoooods, yes?"

I couldn't think of the name of the company that was at Felicia's, but it was the first one that came to mind.

"Do you remember the name? The company that installed them?"

He was seen there because he was meeting the company doing the installation. Knowing who they were would help the police-and clear my husband completely.

"Nava, wha-what's so important about that right now? Baby, I'm tryna enjoy this moment. I don't wanna talk about real estate."

"I know, Doug, but something's weird."

"Okay-let it be weird in a few hours, please. I'm exhausted...you wore me out."

Accepting defeat, I said okay and stopped asking questions. He was out in minutes. I couldn't sleep a wink, but I laid there trying to remember that damned name.

When I woke up, Doug was still asleep but he had shifted and turned over onto his stomach. I slowly and gently got out of bed so as not to wake him and went to the closet to get my phone out of my purse. I closed the door so I wouldn't wake Doug. I had to get Felicia on the phone to find out the name of that damned company that her new boyfriend worked for.

"Hey, girl."

"Nava-hey." She sounded like she was busy.

"You sound busy-I just have a quick question."

"Girl, why are you whispering?"

"Cause Doug's asleep-I'm in the closet."

"Well, you KNOW you can tell me. I won't judge you. Just open the closet door and come OUT, Nava!" She laughed louder than I did at her own joke.

"Ha, ha-funny. Look, I-"

"Watch where you're going, you son of a bitch!"

She was driving.

"I'm sorry, Nava, girl. What were you saying?"

"Licia, something's weird. Those damned detectives didn't know what the hell they were talking about-or they were bluffing to get something out of me. Doug said he DID sell the condo, but he sold it to some lady who insisted that he put in hardwoods before she paid him. What was the name of that-hello?"

The call dropped. I redialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Licia, I don't know what the hell happened, but call me back. Just leave me a message if I don't answer. Me and Doug are just chilling in bed today."

I climbed back in bed and laid there for a few minutes, but still felt as wide awake as I did when I got in.

"Baby, why are you so restless?" he mumbled from a partially opened mouth. The other side of it must have been smooshed into the pillow.

"I don't know. Just thinking."

"Well, maybe you should go write it down."

He was right. I should. I figured I'd tease him later for the passively aggressive way he'd kicked me out of bed.

As I grabbed my robe from the closet and headed toward my office, I realized I had been silly to doubt my husband. And something was definitely strange about the condo and the connection to the scarf.

It'd been hours and Felicia never called me back. I knew not to panic since she's been known to disappear for hours and then have a wild NC-17 story to tell, but I was starting to get worried. She would have at least sent me a text by now-unless something was wrong.

I picked up the cordless phone from its cradle on my desk and dialed her number. Still got her voicemail.

Okay, Nava, don't panic. You said you wouldn't panic. I laid the phone down for a second then decided to try her home number. It rang several times and then the answering machine picked up. She was a stickler for the old-fashioned kind so she could hear the messages without having to hold the phone to her ear. I knew she would hear me if she was there.

"Licia, please pick up if you're there. I'm getting worried. Your nosy ass would have called me by now at least to see how my day-after-my-birthday went with Doug. That man is amaaaazing-I don't believe that shit I've heard in the last 48 hours. Anyway, call me back, girl. If I don't hear from you soon I'm coming over."

By now, Doug was at the door of my office wiping his beautiful brown eyes that were little slits underneath heavy eyelids.

"What's up with Licia?"

I shrugged and turned in the chair to face him.

"I don't know, babe. I was talking to her earlier and the call dropped. She hasn't called me back yet. She was driving, though. Maybe she dropped her phone-on the passenger side floor or something ..." He nodded, resting his hands on either side of the doorframe.

"I'm just trying not to worry for now-until I hear from her."

"Yeah, babe. Well, why don't you come back to bed until she calls? I wasn't trying to kick you out."

"So you DO remember kicking me out of bed for tossing and turning??" I teased, getting up from my chair and following him back to the room.

No sooner than I'd laid down and gotten comfortable did I hear the vibration of my phone against the desk.

I hopped up to Doug's simultaneous groan, assumedly because I was getting out of bed yet again, hoping to catch it. But as soon as I was able to pick it up, I realized it wasn't a phone call-it was a text message. And it was coming from a number other than Licia's.

I'm okay. Phn flu out the window. Using a friends.

I immediately put in this number to dial it and hear my friend's voice after all these hours.

There was no personal greeting-just the automated default restating the phone number I'd dialed.

"Licia, honey, you have GOT to call me. Don't send anymore damned text messages. Let me hear your voice so I can calm the fuck down. You got me scared over here-call me."

I sat there for a few minutes. Still nothing. I said I was going over there, didn't I? So she can't say I'm showing up unannounced if I just go over to the heifer's house.

I threw on some jeans and one of Doug's t-shirts and a cardigan. His head popped up as I was leaving the room.

"Where you going NOW?" he asked almost whining.

"I'm going to check on Licia. She's still not answering the phone. And I got some weird text message from a strange number and it was supposedly her. I don't like it."

"Wait, baby-lemme go with you-" Doug was throwing the comforter off of his body with zombie-like coordination, clearly not happy about getting up.

"No, baby, it's okay. I'm gonna just drive by. If I don't see her car or any lights on, I'll just come back."

He reached for the cordless phone that was on the nightstand on my side of the bed.

"Call me if you need me, Nava."

"I will, baby!" I shouted halfway down the staircase by now.

The drive usually took about 25 minutes. I think I got to Licia's subdivision in 19. I made a concerted effort to drive slowly around the circular road that led to her house since I had been driving like a maniac before. I got to the corner and there was her car in the driveway-along with the same white van that had been there when I was there the day before.

"How could I not remember Rathport Hardwoods, dammit. It's the same damn city-"

I almost pulled in behind her when the front door opened and the same man that had been there offering measurements before stepped out. I recognized his build first-he wasn't wearing the same polo he had on before. He was walking quickly and heavily, as if he was pissed and leaving an uncomfortable situation. Then soon after, Felicia came out with a phone in her hand. She threw it at the van as its tires burned some of their rubber onto the asphalt and the tiny little phone shattered into tinier little pieces. She didn't even look in my direction. She just stomped back into the house and slammed the door behind her.

I almost pulled into the driveway again this time, sure that whatever domestic dispute was happening was over. She must have gotten involved with one too many unavailable men again, I thought. But I heard my phone vibrate again-another text message. I put the car in park to read it, just in case it was Doug.

It wasn't Doug but it was from the same 'new' number as before. This time, though, it looked familiar.

I knew that number anywhere. I had memorized it and could spot it even after days of starvation or moments after finishing a manuscript. It was Ian's cell phone number.

I couldn't even bring myself to read the message right away that came with this mind-numbing sight. How? From Ian's phone? But Ian's dead. He was murdered. And someone was sending me a text from his phone number. Wait-this message came directly from Ian's phone.

I put Doug's SUV in reverse and turned down another street so I could get away from the front of Licia's house. Now I was afraid that her life was in danger-what if someone was IN her house sending these messages and waiting to hurt her??

My hand was trembling as I held my phone firmly in my hand. I had to lean my head back into the headrest to gather enough air into my lungs to prepare myself for whatever was on there.

I fanned my fingers away from the display on the phone and read:

Going out of town for a few days. Need to get away.

I closed the message and looked at the one I'd gotten earlier that I thought was Licia. It was definitely the same number.

"Detective Harrelson, please,"

I was barreling down the bay bridge trying to get to the police precinct and call at the same time.

"He's not in the office right now, ma'am. Can I take a message?" the other voice said with so little affect it was pissing me off. My best friend's life might be in danger. Whoever knew I was looking for my best friend had her phone. Licia NEVER parts with her phone. And whoever was now texting me was using a murdered man's phone.

"NO! I don't wanna leave a fucking message-is Detective Neil there? Officer Middleton?"

Soon I didn't hear that same mousy voice anymore. I heard one that had once made me nauseous.

"Mrs. Jackson, is that you?"

"Yes! Detective, it's me. Look, I need you to send someone over to my best friend Felicia Norris' house. I think she may be in trouble."

"Ms. Norris? Who was here with you the other night?"

"Yes, that one! Now could you please get someone over there?"

I shouted the address to him. "Please, just hurry!"

"I'm on it, Mrs. Jackson. Where are you? You're not at this location are you?"

I pulled into a parking space at the precinct.

"No, I'm at yours."

I heard a couple of sirens tear out of the parking lot and head toward the bridge. Detective Harrelson was waiting for me at the entrance with his jacket and car keys.

"Wanna go check it out?"

I hopped in the patrol car with him, never having been in the midst of a police sting before. Then it occurred to me that I was potentially in danger and my husband was sleeping soundly at home. So I sent him a text that said,

Rest, baby-I'll be back soon. Girltalk.

Just as we got to Licia's subdivision again, I got a response.

Figures. 2 many byfrnds.

The van was back-this time with the loading doors in the back wide open. Detective Harrelson pulled right up to the squad car that must have arrived first. There was someone sitting in the back. As we got closer, I was horrified. IT WAS LICIA.

The man that had driven off in a huff earlier was in the back of the adjacent squad car. I stayed put in the passenger's seat, not even sure if I my legs would work if I tried to move them. Then I noticed another man lying face down in Licia's front yard. It didn't take much to recognize that it was Michael.

I glanced back in the direction of where Licia was being detained, wondering what in the hell had just happened. When I called the police, I didn't mean for her to get caught up in anything. She had a blank look on her face when the car's engine started and it faded out of my field of vision. The next siren I heard was an ambulance ambling through the crooked path of carelessly angled patrol cars to pick up Michael's lifeless body. There were people now, Licia's neighbors, lining the residential street for several houses down on either end. I sure as hell didn't know what to think anymore.

Little did I know that Detective Harrelson would soon help me out of my confusion. I watched him as he talked to the paramedic and then watched the ambulance drive away. Michael was still laying on the grass, not moving. Detective Harrelson walked over to another person who was retrieving something from the trunk of a patrol car. It was Officer Middleton. She pulled out a huge roll of yellow plastic and was walking to the furthest point of Licia's house, hooking it onto the railing on the porch. It all seemed to be going in slow motion. Occasionally there was a crackling sound from the radio inside the vehicle I was in, but I couldn't make out a single word that was being said. The other patrol car with Licia's hardwood flooring technician friend was now starting up and pulled away. When it moved, I could see another vehicle coming towards the commotion. It was another white van. I couldn't tell what it was until the driver stepped down from the cockpit. The back of his jacket read RATHPORT CORONER.

Now my heart was doing that thing again-I knew from the books I'd read and the shows I'd watched on the documentary channel that this meant someone was dead and that the yellow tape meant it was officially deemed a crime scene. How the hell did Felicia Norris have a crime scene happening in her front yard? I'd known her for 17 years. We went to high school together. We had sleepovers. She told me every time she faked a pregnancy to get rid of a boy. Felicia Norris was my best, best girlfriend for as long as I could remember. The only problem we ever had was that she always hated Ian.....

"We're holding her until tomorrow morning. She's pretty irate and uncooperative right now."

Back at the precinct, Doug was waiting. I'd called him and finally let him know where the hell I was since I knew he'd be madder than hell if I told him after the fact. He was undone by this whole thing with Felicia but was even more surprised to know that he'd been a suspect at some point. Detective Harrelson actually let it slip from his mouth that they'd played with the idea of jealousy and a years-long rivalry between he and Ian over me.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Me? I GOT the girl, why the hell would I need to kill him?"

My baby was trying to console me, but I wasn't as upset as I had been before when they were questioning me about him. He asked me why I didn't tell him what I'd been through and I was just about to answer him when Detective #3 came into the office.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jackson-I'm Detective Van Kemp. We've just had some developments in this case..."

"Look, Detective Van, whatever," Doug started. "If you're not charging US with anything, I really just want to take my wife home. You got your bad guy. We'll just watch it on the goddamn news."

"Oh, wait-I think you'll want to hear this one," the small man with a baritone speaking voice insisted. His sandy brown hair looked like he'd slicked it back with Murray's hair grease.

"Your wife may have solved Mr. Thomas's murder."

"Excuse me?" I piped in.

"Come again?"

The little man hiked his hip up to rest it on the edge of the desk.

"Mrs. Jackson, we have a team at the condo over at Stassney Estates..."

"Unit 12B-" Doug clarified.

"Yes, sir, in Unit 12B. It appears that the new owner never showed to move into the property. And after further investigation, it seems your buyer, Mr. Jackson, set up a fraudulent deal with you."

Doug leaned over toward the detective. "What did you just say?"

The detective picked up a packet of stapled papers laying near him on the desk.

"This, sir, was a contract for a deed that you signed along with a Nina Jeznychek. Is that right?"

"Um, yeah-that sounds right."

"Well, Mr. Jackson, there IS no such person. The name was fake, the social security number was made up, the address was for some pet store in Pittsburgh, I think-"

Doug's face fell. He was embarrassed. I touched him and startled him. He looked back at the detective who was still talking.

"With all due respect, you really should do background checks, sir. Because if you had, you might have known that the same idiot who tried to use that name with you had used the same name prior to your sale,"

Doug and I looked at each other.

"The same pseudonym was used and is on the deed that was found by police at-"

"Ian's house," I finished for him.

"Yes, Mr. Thomas seemed to have been had by the same crook-or crooks. We're still trying to determine how many were actually involved."

Doug rubbed his forehead and chin-he only did that when he was worried.

"So, Detective, do you have ANY clue who this was? Who set us up?"

Det. Van Kemp looked over at Dets. Harrelson and Neil who then looked at each other. It was definitely a secret, silent code, I decided. Or some kind of chain of command that told them when to speak.

"The search of one location has uncovered some items that may be of interest."

He directed his attention toward me.

"Mrs. Jackson, how long have you been friends with Ms. Norris?"

No, no, be calm, dammit. I tried to send a voluntary message from my brain to intercept the involuntary reactions in the rest of my body. This can't be happening. Not Licia.

My mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out. Doug answered for me.

"They've known each other since high school, detective."

"I see," he got up with this two-word whammy and started pacing in front of us.

Then he interviewed me as if no one else were in the room. It was back and forth for several moments.

"Did you two fight often?"

"Not often-we had our disagreements, but..."

"Did Ms. Norris ever seem to have violent tendencies?"

"No, not that I know of. And I think I would have seen something in 17 years."

"Did she ever talk about engaging in any criminal activity? Like identity theft, credit card fraud, anything like that?"

"No-she was always paying cash for everything. She said she just finished paying her 2^nd mortgage for her house."

"Well, we don't find any records in any property databases or with any national or local lenders with any existing mortgage for a Felicia Norris."

No, not true. None of this was happening. First Ian's dead now my best friend has been a con artist right under my nose? For 17 years?

"There is, however, an account that was opened at a tiny bank off the coast of Florida in the name of one Ms. Nina Jeznychek. Coincidences happen, but this-"

Doug was squeezing my hand now. He didn't even know-we hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of what they were finding out about what had transpired right around us over the last several months while we were trying to live our lives as normally as possible.

"And as for Mr. Thomas,"

I tried to excuse myself. I didn't think I could possibly hear any more details about Ian's death.

"Please, Mrs. Jackson. You'll want to hear this," this, coming from Detective Neil who was almost blocking the door. I sat back down as Det. Van Kemp waited for me to make eye contact with him.

"He was indeed a victim of the same con artistry-he thought he'd sold his house to a newly-nationalized immigrant from the Czech Republic, but he, too was too eager to sell his property and get back to Nebraska where his lucrative job was awaiting his return. He didn't request to meet with Ms. Jeznychek in person either. But what we've speculated so far is that he came back to the house where he'd stored his luggage as he was leaving for Nebraska that night-after your book signing, Mrs. Jackson-and found a kitchen full of groceries and two men who'd obviously overlooked the luggage and come back to squat as they had been for several days before Ms. Jeznychek closed her phony deal with Mr. Thomas. And, as fate would have it, the same service van that an eyewitness report puts leaving the neighborhood that night around midnight, looking rather suspicious with a company name 'Rathport Hardwoods, Inc.' silk-screened on the side, is the same van that was parked at Ms. Norris' residence tonight."

"And we found some key pieces of evidence in the back of that van, Mrs. Jackson." Detective Harrelson went to sit at the desk, apparently tired of standing.

I couldn't look at him as he said what I knew he'd say-red, cashmere fibers and fishing wire.

We were in that office for what seemed like hours. Doug and I left to get some water. They promised that Doug was no longer on their list of heads to hunt in light of everything that had happened, and it turned out that Michael and Walter, who Felicia was trying to paint as her new love interests had been the ones who fought with Ian and took his life at 68 Lansing Terrace-where we used to live.

Doug quietly reassured me with his embrace and kissed my forehead like he always did when he was at his most tender. The water from the tank in the hallway was freezing cold-I couldn't drink any more of it.

Then a door opened at the end of that hallway and we both turned to look in that direction as if we knew who would be coming through it. My weary eyes locked with hers, which were now sunken in and darker than they'd ever looked-probably from lack of sleep and unrelenting interrogation. This woman I called and believed was my best friend, in handcuffs and disheveled clothes from being man-handled for as long as we'd been in that uncomfortable, stuffy office with the three stooges. She stood still, glaring at me and Doug, until the police officer nearest to her grabbed her arm and forced her around the corner.

"Did you see her face?"

"Yeah, I saw it," Doug confirmed. He'd seen the same darkness and hatred that I'd seen. That woman I'd just laid eyes on was NOT my Licia. That was a cold, calculated murderer who I finally realized had been trying to ruin my life one love interest at a time.

"She wanted you to herself, baby," Doug said as I was thinking it.

"And when she realized you weren't ever going to be, she tried to eliminate us without your consent."

The newest detective on the case had been at the end of the hall talking to another and came walking back towards us. He motioned for us to come back into the room. We reluctantly re-entered the room and sat in the same chairs that had gotten cold now in our absence.

"There's just one more thing, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson-well, a couple more things."

He asked if Felicia had been given a key to our home.

"Well, yeah, I gave her one. And I had a key to her house. We were-"

Doug reached for my hand again.

"Ms. Norris just confessed to removing the scarf from your home, knowing it was a way to implicate you, Mr. Jackson. And that she was, indeed, masquerading as the buyer for your condo. The hardwood installation was to be a cover-up-"

"Cover up for what?"

"The murder weapon, sir. The part of the hardwoods that had been laid down were removed-from the foyer. They were attempting to conceal the blood-stained wire underneath them. It's been sent to forensics for a DNA sample. We feel it's fairly certain that it will match DNA samples taken from Mr. Thomas."

I couldn't say that I couldn't believe it anymore. The puzzle pieces were all laid out and, save for a few center pieces, was almost complete. The facts were stranger than any fiction I could ever write.

Doug's intuition as an attorney led him to ask something I wouldn't have thought of in this stressful circumstance.

"Have your men searched our house?"

Once again, that look amongst men of law enforcement. Detective Neil stepped away from the door towards my husband.

"Yes, Mr. Jackson-as a matter of fact. We obtained a search warrant a few hours ago."

"And?"

"There were pictures-in your office drawer, Mr. Jackson."

"Pictures of what?"

There went the heart palpitations again. I knew exactly what they were pictures of.

"Mrs. Jackson and Mr. Thomas, apparently sharing an intimate moment."

The bitch set me up from the start. She knew I was talking to Ian at the engagement party. She followed me and took pictures with the same camera she was taking pictures with inside of me and Doug and my aunt and everyone else there.

Doug turned his attention to me, but he didn't say anything until we were in the car on the way back home. The sun was coming up over the bay.

I felt compelled to initiate it.

"Baby, I can tell you exactly what happened at the party-"

"You don't have to, Nava. I noticed when both of you were missing from the room at the same time. I'm a lawyer, baby. I get paid to observe human behavior-read between the lines."

Once again, I couldn't get any words to leave my mouth.

"I knew when you came back, though, that you were still in love with me and didn't feel threatened in the least-especially when he left with his date right after that and you didn't so much as look in the direction he was going."

I looked over at my husband, proud and relieved. He kept going.

"I felt at that moment that a chapter in your life had been officially wrapped up and ready to send to the editor."

I smiled, not able to muster a giggle, but he smiled, too. I expected to see police personnel still swarming around our house, but it was quiet-peaceful.

Doug pulled up a locksmith online to make sure he called someone to come change the locks ASAP.

A few days later, I found myself going through a sort of withdrawal. My life used to include two people that I talked to EVERY single day. Now there was only one. I missed my best friend.

"I wanna go see her," I revealed to Doug as we sat watching a movie at home one evening.

"You do? Why?" He couldn't make sense of it.

"I have to look her in the eyes."

He paused the movie.

"You know you're not gonna get what you're looking for."

"And what am I looking for?" I probed, almost feeling insulted that he was using that damned lawyer psychology on me.

He turned to look me square in the face.

"The reason."

I couldn't argue with him. That's exactly what I wanted. I thought there might be some chance she could make me understand why she'd done all this-or at least convince me that she really did do it.

'But suit yourself-" he said, getting up and heading toward the bathroom.

"I just want to see if she'll tell me the truth."

Doug offered to go with me to the county jail, but I didn't want him to. I was going to talk to my best girlfriend-she deserved some privacy.

I waited in the sterile cafeteria, still smelling like the grease used to make that morning's gruel disguised as breakfast. Sitting on such a hard, wooden bench reminded me of the bleachers we used to sit on when Licia and I went to the football games in high school to see her boyfriends--#22 and #84.

I didn't recognize her at first. Her hair wasn't in braids anymore-they'd taken them out. Her black, ear length permed hair was all over her head and she was walking funny, almost bouncing. It was because she was handcuffed AND shackled. When the guard pointed for her to sit on the bench across the table from me, she plopped down. The look on her face was one I'd never seen before. She didn't even say hello.

Wiping a tear, I started.

"Licia-"

She continued to stare at me, scowling and I don't think she blinked for several seconds.

"How did-"

"What? Just spit it out, Nava. You wanna know what?"

"Why?"

She looked back at the guard who was now standing at the door they'd come through a few moments ago. Then at the other pair of people in the room.

She leaned over a bit and now when she locked her eyes with mine, there was something else there.

"You wouldn't understand. You never DID."

"What? Understand what?"

"That all I ever wanted was YOU. I was never enough."

I waited for her to go on.

"First I watched that dickhead Ian drag you through hell, then you were gonna make me watch the new dickhead do the same thing."

"But Doug and I are happy, Licia..."

"It was just a matter of time," she said, shaking her head, a few strands of her hair swinging with the motion.

"They ALWAYS do it. It could have just been you and me. Like high school."

"Licia-did you hire those men to kill Ian?"

She leaned back away from the table and then let out the most maniacal laugh I'd ever heard.

"Ian tripped." She kept laughing and the guard took notice, moving away from her post toward where we were sitting.

I didn't want to hear any more. I stood up and picked up my purse.

"Wait-" she said, fading out her laughter like a song that was ending.

"We were like SISTERS, Nava. I was an only child, you were an only child, and somehow we ended up being best friends. It was SUPPOSED to be just you and me."

"But, Licia, you always had boyfriends. Why couldn't I have any?"

"They were just toys, stupid. But when you fell in love and started talking about getting married, you fucked everything up. I put up with Ian and FINALLY he was out of our lives, then here comes fuckin' DOUG. It WASN'T GOING TO WORK."

She was up from her seat now and the guard was at her side in an instant.

"Let's go, Ms. Norris," the tall, hefty woman said, clutching Licia's upper arm.

Licia twisted her body around to keep her gaze on me as she was being pulled. "Remember, YOU fucked us up! Not me!"

Goddammit, I could tell Doug that he was wrong. I DID get a reason, but I sure as hell didn't know what to do with it. Two men were dead because of this reason. I suddenly felt like the I-told-you-so I was planning to revel in wasn't that important at all.

We never saw any trace of the pictures the police found in the house and never heard of any submitted as evidence during the trial that lasted all of 2 weeks.

Doug and I were having breakfast on the real Valentine's Day when he came across the article about the crazy murder case that was the talk of Rathport.

"Baby, they found her guilty-2 counts; 1^st and 2^nd degree murder for Ian and Michael. And that Walter guy's real name is Vlad. He's guilty of 2^nd degree murder-for-hire. Looks like they found out Michael is the one that actually killed Ian. Vlad was responsible for the murder weapon and the fiber-planting." He looked up from the paper toward me.

"And Licia supplied the scarf,"

Felicia was eventually sentenced to 3 consecutive life sentences without parole. I never went back to see her again. Vlad was on his 2^nd appeal by the fall to reduce his death penalty sentence to life without parole.

And Doug and I are going to have a baby. We're thinking of naming her Iyanna Felicia Jackson...