Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-Three

PRESENT DAY

SYDNEY

"Okay, I agree—that phone thing is super weird."

Since Tom blew me off to spend time with his mother without me, I went over to Gretchen and Randy's apartment. Randy is off running errands, but Gretchen was willing to listen to the entire story about Tom's phone not taking my calls. And she looks properly perplexed.

"What do you think it means?" Gretchen asks as she stuffs a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Gretchen is the kind of person who always feels like she needs to make a snack when I come over, which is kind of sweet.

I lift a shoulder. "I mean, it's not good that my boyfriend is apparently calling me and texting me from a secret phone."

"He could be telling you the truth. You said he's a workaholic, so it makes sense he wants his work phone with him. And he doesn't have a purse like we do to carry multiple phones."

"Yeah…" I grab some popcorn, which Gretchen has placed in a wooden bowl on the coffee table. "I wouldn't make that big a deal out of it, but he got so uncomfortable when I started asking him about it. It really seemed like he was hiding something."

"So what do you think he's hiding?" Her eyes widen. "Do you think he could be married?"

"I really, really don't think so. I've seen his apartment. There's no woman living there. Plus, he doesn't seem worried about being seen in public."

Although…

Whenever we go out to eat, we always go to a different restaurant. Always . Jake and I had a diner we went to nearly every weekend, but Tom seems very resistant to having a "regular" place.

"So…what then?"

I don't know what to think. I genuinely don't think there's another woman in the picture, but the fact that Tom only carries around his work phone is a decidedly bad sign—it means he's even more of a workaholic than I suspected. That's the kind of thing Jake would do. And we all know how wonderfully that worked out.

And I don't want things to fall apart with Tom the way they did with Jake. He's such a good guy. He's sweet, he's intelligent, he loves his mother, and also, he is very easy on the eyes.

Oh my God, I'm really falling for him.

"Let's have dinner together," Gretchen suggests. "I'm an excellent judge of character. I'll tell you in two seconds if he's two-timing you."

"Sorry, he won't do that."

"Why not?"

"You should have seen his face when I suggested meeting my friends. I told you—he has commitment issues." I make a face. "He's still hung up on this girl he was in love with in high school."

"Oh my God!" Gretchen covers her mouth. "In high school? Seriously?"

"I know, but it sounds like he wanted to marry her, and then she died or something. He looked so sad when he was talking about her."

"Aw, that's sweet though."

I lean back against the cushions of the sofa, my head spinning. I don't know what to do. I really am starting to fall for Tom, but at the same time, the number of red flags has become almost unacceptable. I could deal with his unwillingness to meet my friends, but this phone thing is really bugging me.

Maybe I should have Jake do a background check on him.

Of course, that would be completely humiliating. I don't want to tell my old boyfriend that the guy I've replaced him with is so untrustworthy that he requires a background check if I'm to proceed with our relationship. I'd rather Jake think that I am dating an amazing guy, and that he missed out because he couldn't make time for me.

Besides, Jake has his hands full. I haven't seen anything in the papers about an arrest for Bonnie's murder, or for those other two women either. If they arrested anyone, I would definitely know about it.

"By the way," Gretchen says, "my exhibit at the museum is going to be closing soon. I want you to come by and see it before it's gone!"

I laugh. "I already saw it!"

"I know," she admits, "but I want my friends to be there one more time before they take it all down! I worked so hard on it!"

"I know you did. That was all you could talk about for months." It used to really bother Bonnie how much Gretchen talked about it, but I don't mention that. There's no point in tainting Gretchen's memories of Bonnie by cluing her in that her friend sometimes found her very irritating.

"It consumed me," she admits. "Even the night before, I was at the museum half the night working on it!"

I frown. Something about Gretchen's statement tugs at me. But I can't quite put my finger on what it is, and before I can figure it out, a key turns in the lock to the front door and Gretchen's eyes light up. "Randy is back! I wonder what he got…"

"What was he getting, exactly?" I say.

"One of the tenants gave him a gift card for some extra work he did," Gretchen explains. "So he took it to a department store in Herald Square. He said he was going to buy something to christen the apartment now that I've moved in. Isn't that sweet?"

"Like a painting?"

"I have no idea. But Randy has such great taste, so I'm sure it's something good."

Randy has great taste? I glance around their bare-bones apartment, which looks only slightly different from the way it did when it was his bachelor pad. And the guy only wears jeans and T-shirts, sometimes a hoodie. What exactly is she basing her "great taste" assessment on? But whatever. Gretchen is in love, and she thinks Randy is perfect.

Randy bursts into the apartment, and he's holding something large—at least two feet wide—in his arms. I'm not entirely sure what it is though. It looks like…a glass structure filled with dirt. From Gretchen's expression, I can tell she is equally perplexed. She climbs to her feet, her hands on her hips.

"What is that?" she asks.

"It's an ant farm!" Randy says proudly.

"A what ?"

It would be an understatement to say that Gretchen does not look thrilled. In fact, she looks like she wants to punch Randy in the face, except that he might drop the ant farm and break it open.

"It's an ant farm," Randy repeats. "I thought we could put it over there by the window. That way we'll be able to see everything happening on the farm."

"Oh no!" Gretchen jumps in front of him, as if to block him from entering the room with his glass container filled with ants. "I don't want that thing in my apartment. No way."

"Why not?" His forehead scrunches up. "It's so cool."

"No, it's not!" she cries. "What if the ants get free?"

"The ants won't get free."

"The ants will definitely get free!" Gretchen throws up her arms and looks over at me. "Sydney, help me out here."

"An ant farm is pretty gross, Randy," I say.

He lowers the ant farm onto the floor, and Gretchen instinctively takes a few steps back. "Well, I don't know what you want me to do, Gretchen. I can't return it. Am I supposed to throw them away?"

"I don't care what you do with them!" she cries. "You can flush them down the toilet for all I care!"

Randy's face darkens. "I'm not doing that. That's horrible ."

Gretchen is really freaked out about those ants. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want them in my house either. Her face has turned all pink, and now I feel like a bad argument is brewing.

"I better go, Gretchen," I say. "But, um…good luck."

As I hurry out of Gretchen and Randy's apartment, something is still tugging at me. Something Gretchen said. But I can't quite put my finger on what it is.

I'll figure it out eventually.