I tried to think of something reassuring to say but came up empty, so she continued, nervously. “Obviously, no one can find out. And, to be completely real with you, our hookup was awful. I thought it would be hot, because he’s hot, but . . . it was really bad. Really bad. I was actually messed up for a while afterward. It just—it wasn’t what I had in mind. Do you know what I mean?” Do I ever, I thought. All this was hitting way too close to home for me. “I met Jack pretty soon after, and I wouldn’t sleep with him for the first few months that we were dating because of it. I’ve tried to just forget the whole thing.” Her eyes darkened briefly. I waited for her to elaborate, but she shifted instead. “If it got out, it just wouldn’t look good for me, given the circumstances, what with Isabel now missing and me knowing her and having slept with her husband . . . God, it’s just such a mess. So you cannot say anything to the other girls. Or anyone else. Please.” She locked eyes with me, waiting for me to promise.
I looked at my empty wineglass. Clara was starting to fuss in her stroller, so I picked her up and put her on my lap, holding her close and kissing her fuzzy head. “I won’t. I promise. And I’m sorry you went through that, and that you’ve had to relive it because of all of this. But do you think what happened between you and Connor years ago could possibly have any implications on Isabel disappearing? Like, with him maybe having something to do with it? If he was cheating on her, and you had a bad experience with him . . . well, he obviously wasn’t a good husband. Maybe this is kind of like . . . a lead, in a way. Who knows what else he would do?”
Kira sighed. “Of course I’ve thought about that, too. But if he’s involved, the police would figure that out on their own. Her disappearance has nothing to do with me.” I was brought back immediately to my conversation with Selena, when she insisted the same.
Against my better judgment, I pressed. “But don’t you think maybe you should tell them, just in case? I just feel like an unfaithful, creepy husband is pertinent information in a case like this one.” I knew there was a reason I didn’t like or trust Connor. And I wanted the police to know, too.
“He’s already cleared, though, so what would be the point? It’s better if I just let the police do their job. Besides, if what happened with me was a habitual thing for him, there would be others that they would probably find . . . though I’m sure he covered his tracks. But regardless, my . . . encounter with him, let’s call it, surely has nothing to do with what’s happening with Isabel, and I don’t want to wreck my own life offering up irrelevant information.” She put her hand on Caleb’s leg protectively. “It was so long ago, anyway. Maybe he’s cleaned up his act.”
I doubt it. But I nodded, considering. “Do you think Isabel knew he had cheated?”
“I have no idea. Hell, for all I know, they could have an open marriage, right? They’re Manhattan millionaires—these people have all kinds of crazy situations behind closed doors. But as far as me and Connor, there’s no way she knew. It was such a onetime thing—we literally didn’t even exchange numbers or spend the night together. I didn’t tell anyone about me and him, either. I don’t really keep in touch with that many people from the Cape, and it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to brag about. There’s just no way she knows. No way at all.”
Caleb started fussing in his stroller. Kira grabbed him swiftly, lifted her shirt, and put him to her breast with ease, without using a cover. I loved how confident she was about breastfeeding at a restaurant. I so wanted to be someone who did my part to “normalize breastfeeding,” but I could barely bring myself to breastfeed in a secluded area of the park, let alone at a wine bar on a crowded street.
She shook her head, as if trying to shake the memory of her night with Connor out of it. She’d gone as far as she was willing to go, it seemed. “Anyway,” she said, “it’s all an unfortunate coincidence. A very unfortunate one. But I wanted to tell you because I want you to know why I’ve been so weird since she disappeared. Because I like you and I know this is a hard enough time, for all of us, and I didn’t want you to think my being distant was about anything else, other than this.” She reached over and squeezed my hand.
That meant a lot to me. It was as if she were saying, in the nicest way possible, “I know you have the tendency to agonize, so I’ll try to save you the trouble.”