I was already thinking of my reply when I noticed something. I stared at the photo for a long moment. Blinked. And then I zoomed in on the background of the image, right over his shoulder and stared again, my stomach sinking.
In the mirror to their left was the reflection of the woman taking the photo. It was Josie, smiling and happy. And she was very, very pregnant.
I struggled to find any alternate explanation, but nothing worked. I wanted to believe she was pregnant with someone else抯 kid, but if she were, he抎 have told me. And surely it would have come up during one of his stories about her drinking.
His stories. My God. When I began to put together the size and depth of all his lies, it made me physically ill. I抎 made so many excuses for him: for his insistence on keeping it a secret, all the canceled visits, the way he muted his phone when we were together. I抎 actually admired him for calling from the sidelines of Oliver抯 soccer games or while waiting for a children抯 birthday party to end厀hen he was probably just capitalizing on some time free of his wife. And when I got upset about the situation, he抎 persuaded me he was ready to go public because he knew I抎 back down if my job was at risk.
He'd been lying to me梐nd he抎 lied so very, very well梑ut I抎 been lying to myself too. That suspicious voice in my head, the one both he and my therapist had long been telling me not to trust, had been right all along.
Had he ever planned to leave? Had they ever been separated at all? Was he happy with her? I knew he wouldn抰 tell me the truth, and even if he did, I wouldn抰 believe it. I had to see for myself.
I friended Josie on social media under a fake name. The first thing I saw was a picture of them, taken on my birthday weekend. They were smiling behind a big blue cake. The banner overhead reading It抯 a boy!
She抎 posted pictures of them at various places: a Christmas party, a baseball game he抎 called me from, a family trip to Florida he抎 told me had just been him and the kids.
And I had no one to discuss it with because who was ever going to believe I really hadn抰 known he was married? Who was going to believe that I, of all people, had been that na飗e?
I ignored his calls until evening.
揥here the hell were you all day??he demanded when I finally answered.
揓ust sitting here,?I replied, 搕rying to figure out when your wife is due.?
There was the longest silence, and my breath held. There was still a part of me hoping he had an explanation.
揑 was going to tell you,?he said.
And it was then that I knew, without a doubt, he would lie. And had been lying all along.
41
Ben leaves the following weekend for a trial in DC. He expects it to go quickly, and I hope he抯 right: depositions for Lawson are set to begin in two weeks, and I want him by my side when they occur.
I抳e never felt quite as apathetic about work as I do on Monday. There are no strawberries at the morning meeting. Fields is civil to me, nothing more, still holding a grudge over Webber.
I meet Walter for lunch to go over the mountain of work he needs FMG to handle. I can rope in a few of the junior associates to help while I抦 dealing with Lawson, but he shouldn抰 be giving us all this work in the first place.
揑抳e said this before,?I tell him with a smile, 揵ut you really ought to just hire someone in-house. You easily have more than enough work to keep a full-time attorney busy.?
He cuts into his steak and spears a bite with his fork. 揧ou trying to get rid of me??he asks with a grin.
揙f course not. You抮e still my favorite client. I just don抰 like to see you wasting your money.?
He points his fork at me. 揂nd that抯 why I like you, Gemma. Because you tell me the truth even when it does you a disservice. I want to introduce you to my oldest boy, one of these days.?
I blush, remembering Ben above me, growling, 搉o more dates?in my ear. 揑抦， uh, seeing someone,?I reply. 揂nd even he抎 tell you I抦 no one you抎 want to set up with your son.?
Walter smiles to himself. 揃et you keep him on his toes.?
I laugh. 揟hat抯 one way of putting it.?
More like he keeps me on mine.
On the way back to the office, I read the texts Ben sent during lunch. He抯 in the middle of jury selection. I write back, encouraging him to select the juror who came in wearing what she claimed was an invisibility cloak.
Ben: You just love to fuck with people who really want out of jury duty, don抰 you?
Me: How dare you? But also, yes.
Ben: I wish you were here.
I抦 still smiling over that twenty minutes later, when Sophia Waterhouse walks in.
揑抦 glad one of us is happy,?she says, setting a manila folder on my desk. 揗y husband just cut off my credit cards to keep me from going on vacation. You told me he had to pay for reasonable expenses.?