Chapter Twenty-Two

When Myron got back to the Dakota, Terese Collins, his wife, ran up to him and greeted him with a kiss that could knock a movie up a rating.

"Whoa," Myron said, when they finally came up for air. "That was… I mean… wow."

"You are so smooth," Terese said.

"Right?"

"I'm so happy to see you," she said.

"Me too."

"God, stop with the smooth lines."

"Can't help myself," Myron said. "I thought your plane didn't land until late."

"I caught an earlier one. Happy?"

He smiled. "Ecstatic."

She moved in closer and arched an eyebrow. "Win won't be home tonight."

"He told you that?"

"He told me that."

"Win's a good man."

"Not really," she said, "but he's good in this case."

"Do you want me to take you out to dinner?" he asked.

Terese put her lips by his ear. Myron felt the jolt. Then Terese whispered, "I'm not really hungry, are you?"

"Uh, not for food anyway."

"Again with the smooth," she said.

"I'm on a roll."

"Or you soon will be."

They stumbled their way into the bedroom. Much later, they ordered burgers and fries from Shake Shack and devoured it all in bed. Hours passed. The rest of the world stayed away. At some point, very late into the night, when they were both lying in the dark staring at the ceiling, Terese said, "I have to leave tomorrow. Ends up I'm covering the Prine murder."

"Oh," Myron said. Not a surprise. He had seen something about it on the news this morning. Real estate mogul Ronald Prine had been gunned down in Philadelphia. They lay there for a few more minutes, both on their backs, their breathing starting to sync up. Then Myron said, "I have something to tell you."

Terese didn't move.

"Before I say anything, nothing happened."

"Myron?"

"Yeah?"

"That's not the reassuring opening you think it is."

"I was at Emily's last night," he said.

"Her place on the Upper East Side?"

"No, her house in the Hamptons."

"Uh-huh."

"She slept in the same bed as me for a few hours. Nothing happened. Jeremy flew in so I went out to see him and then we were going to see Greg together in the morning so I ended up staying overnight in the guest room. Emily came in when I was in bed. We talked. She sort of laid down next to me and asked if she could just stay."

"You said yes."

"It was just… the emotions of the day, all the upheaval. I think she was just lonely."

Terese kept her eyes on the ceiling. "You two have a bond."

"Yes. But not that kind."

"You share a son."

"Yes."

"And a past. You proposed to her."

"I was twenty-two."

"So you didn't mean it?"

"It would have been the greatest mistake of my life. I don't have feelings for her."

"It's funny," Terese said. "Do you know what I was thinking before you said that?"

"Tell me."

"How great we are together."

"We are."

"Two damaged souls who heal each other when they connect." She sat up. "You and Emily are the opposite: Two damaged souls who destroy each other when they connect."

"A long time ago, Terese."

"The wounds are all healed then? No lasting scars?"

"She doesn't mean anything to me."

"Still, you wanted to comfort her. When she was there. In that bedroom."

"Not like that."

"So why tell me about it then?"

He wondered that himself. "It felt like something you should know."

"I didn't need to know."

"Oh."

"Knowing everything is overrated," she said.

"Are there things that you don't tell me?" Myron asked.

She sighed. "It will sound like tit for tat."

"I'd still like to hear it."

She rolled over so that her head rested in her hand. "When I was in Rome last month, I had a drink with Charles."

Myron didn't like what he was feeling. "Ugh," he said.

Terese said nothing.

"Did he hit on you?"

"Of course he hit on me."

"But you weren't going to tell me."

"No," she said.

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't matter."

"I don't get it." Myron sat up. "You know what Charles is like."

"I do."

"So why the hell would you go out to drinks with him in the first place?"

"You're kidding with that tone, right?"

Now it was Myron's turn to stay quiet.

"Last night, you slept in the same bed with an ex you share a son with—an ex you once asked to marry you. Why didn't you just drive back?"

"I was meeting Jeremy in the morning."

"Which you could have done from the city," Terese said. "You chose instead to stay at Emily's house on the beach."

"She needed someone."

"And suppose I told you Charles needed someone?"

"Oh please. It's not the same thing. You know that."

Terese smiled. Myron could see it in the moonlight coming in from the window. She looked so beautiful right now. He wondered whether he'd ever seen anyone look quite this beautiful before.

"Why are you smiling?" Myron asked.

"I know it's toxic, but it's kind of cute when you're jealous."

He couldn't help but smile back. Then: "I also met with Cecelia Callister's ex-husband today."

"Big day for various exes."

"He was telling me how having a supermodel for a wife was tough. Everyone always hitting on her. I get what he means."

"You comparing me to a supermodel?"

"No," Myron said. "You're way hotter."

"Very smooth," she said. "For real this time."

"I kept thinking about that ‘When You're in Love with a Beautiful Woman' song."

"Who sung that?"

"Dr. Hook, I think."

"Right," she said. "Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show. They also sang ‘Sylvia's Mother.'"

"See why I fell so hard for you?"

"What about Cecelia's ex and that song?"

"This ex, he kept telling me how na?ve he'd been—thinking that men hitting on her was cool and was kind of a high."

"And it's not a high for you."

"No. And then one day, this ex—his name is Ben Staples—out of nowhere in his mind, his wife tells him she's pregnant with another man's kid and she's leaving."

"Well, we both know you have no fear of that happening with me."

Myron closed his eyes, silently cursed himself. "Terese."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know. It's okay. Really."

"I love you."

"I know," she said. Then Terese turned to face him. "But are you good with this?"

"Yes."

"I'm not what you wanted."

"You're better."

"You always wanted the wife, the kids, the picket fence, the family barbecues, the kiddy sports league—"

"Terese."

"You can't have that with me."

"I know."

"You did not plan for this."

"Do I have to say it?" Myron asked.

"Ugh," Terese said, doing her best Myron impression. "Please no."

"Der Mensch Tracht, un Gott Lacht."

She handled the translation. "Man plans, God laughs."

"It's not what I planned. It's better. I love you, Terese. I want this. I want you. Okay?"

"Okay." He wasn't sure she believed him. "Myron?"

"Yes?"

"Don't make love to Emily."

"No interest."

"Yeah, you do. That's why you said something, and I didn't. You still have feelings for her. It's how you're built. You give someone your heart, they always have a little piece of it."

"And you don't feel that way about Charles?"

"Not even a little bit."

Myron considered that. "Can I still punch him in the face?"

"No," she said. "But I'm glad you want to."