“Sorry,” I apologized, flushing and looking over at Gretchen across the table. We were sitting in Katz’s Deli, an infamous tourist trap-the place where they filmed the
“orgasm scene” in When Harry Met Sally-and I’d obviously just fallen asleep over my pastrami reuben. “I’m just so tired…”
“You and TJ are keeping the poor girl up too late, Ronnie,” Gretchen teased, I flushed even more deeply, letting them both think that was the reason, that it was most certainly not the fact that I’d been up talking to Josh until the wee hours in the morning for the past two weeks. Definitely not that.
“More the other way around.” Ronnie winked, taking a drink of her water. She’d sworn off both coffee and Diet Coke. “So are you really here to stay, Gretch?”
“I don’t see why not.” The blonde woman leaned back in her chair with a shrug, flipping her hair over her shoulder. It was almost as long as mine, but finer and straighter and almost white-blonde instead of honey-colored. “New York is the best place to be if you want to do fashion photography.”
“California didn’t work out?” Ronnie took a loud bite of her pickle.
Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Flakes and bimbo. So not my scene. Oh my god, are you the quintessential pregnant woman or what? Do you want some ice cream to go with that?”
“I can’t help it.” Ronnie laughed, crunching happily. “They have the best pickles in the world.”
“So when does this kid make its appearance?” Gretchen asked. She was eating a chopped liver sandwich, in spite of the gagging sound Ronnie made when she ordered, and looked like she was enjoying it. “And do you know what it is yet?”
“Hopefully not until my due date.” Ronnie leaned back, putting a hand protectively over her belly. It was even more rounded now-it was like she’d popped out over night. They’d even told Beth, because it had become so obvious. “I’m due on Halloween.”
Gretchen frowned. “That’s… ominous.”
“I hope not.” Ronnie sighed. “Oh, and we’re not finding out the gender.”
“Why not?” I complained.
“Really!” Gretchen agreed. “How are we supposed to shop?”
“You’ll just have to buy yellow and green.”
“They’ve got some cute gender-neutral stuff nowadays,” I said, picking pastrami off my sandwich. The stuff was like velvet pork, so yummy. “Purples and oranges.” They both looked at me, surprised. “What? I’ve had pregnant friends. I’ve been in Babies R Us.”
Gretchen leaned her elbows on the table, looking across at Ronnie fondly. “You must be glad to get the summer off.”
“I am,” she agreed. “And now we’ve got a real vacation to look forward to. TJ’s taking time off work, and it’s perfect timing-Beth will be at music camp all that week!.”
“Ahhhh, a Baumgartner vacation.” Gretchen grinned. “I, myself, can’t wait. It’s bound to be a wild time.”
I snorted. “If my parents invite anyone else, someone’s going to have to sleep outside.” Of course, I’d been dreaming about inviting Josh. I just had no idea how to broach the subject. And how awkward would that be? I knew it was impossible. But still… I wanted what I wanted.
“Oh, it will be fine.” Gretchen winked at me. “We can sleep three or four to a bed.” That cracked both of them up.
“You guys are so bad.” I sighed, glancing down at my phone. I had it in my hand, in my lap, waiting for a call or text from Josh. It was Saturday afternoon, and I was sure we’d see each other tonight, especially since Gretchen was now staying at TJ and Ronnie’s in the guest bedroom until she could find an apartment. I flipped through, noticing two texts from Lil. WHERE ARE U? and WTF?? Ugh. I’d been so involved the past few weeks, I hadn’t even called her back.
The phone rang in my hand and I jumped. “I have to take this.” Ronnie looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Go ahead.”
“I’ll be right back.” I stood, rushing toward the back of the deli, not wanting them to hear my conversation with Josh. Too obvious, I realized, but oh well, it was too late.
“Hello?” I said breathlessly, slipping into the women’s bathroom. Empty. Thank god.
“I told Catherine.”
My breath caught in my throat. Of course I knew what he’d told her-that he was seeing me. Granted, we hadn’t been together face-to-face since the night he drove me home from Tamarind, but we’d been talking practically non-stop. We’d even talked about Catherine and their relationship and how he’d had the feeling, ever since he’d agreed to the seeing-other-people-thing, that it was more a one-way street in Catherine’s eyes. Her street. Not his.
I swallowed hard. “…And?”
“She wants a divorce.”
“Josh…” I breathed, leaning back against the wall. I felt like if I didn’t have something to lean on, I was going to fall over. “Don’t kid around.”
“I’m not.” So matter-of-fact, but I could hear it in his voice. His heart was broken.
I sank to the floor, unmindful of where I was, whispering, “I can’t believe it.”
“I can.”
“But—” I protested. “But she was the one who wanted an open marriage!”
“I know,” he agreed with a sigh. “But apparently she was only fine with that if I wasn’t seeing someone else.”
I stared at the phone. “Is that what she said?”
“She said a lot of things.” His voice grew clipped and short.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
He took a deep breath. “She said mostly that she loves women.”
“Well…so do I,” I replied, thinking of Ronnie. And Ronnie and Gretchen. They’d been lovers once, too.
“No…I mean… really loves women,” he said. “Like, exclusively.”
“Then…why did she marry you?” I pondered, shaking my head.
“Yeah, that was my question.”
“Did you get an answer?” I glanced up as someone walked in. It was clearly a New York tourist-the I “heart” New York t-shirt was a dead giveaway—and she did a double take at me sitting on the floor, but I didn’t care.
“She said she married me because she loved me.” He sighed. “Still loves me, I guess.”
“And you love her.”
“I did,” he admitted sadly. “I do.”
“How long have you been married again?”
“Four years.”
Not chump change. “And how long have you had an open marriage?”
“Two.”
I blinked at the phone. I knew I’d heard the numbers before, but they still stunned me. “She’s been sleeping with other women for two years…”
“Yep.”
“And you never once…”
“Nope.”
“Are you a masochist?”
Josh laughed. “I think I’m just…very stubborn. Like someone I know often says, ‘I want what I want.’”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” I smiled, wishing I could reach through the phone and hug him. “So now what?”
“I don’t know, Janie.”
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the tiles. “Josh, I… I really… like you.”
“I like you too.” He gave a low laugh. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.”
I glanced over as the tourist came out of the stall and started to wash her hands.
“But I’ll be honest… I don’t want to be the cause of your marriage falling apart.”
“No.” I heard the protest in his voice. “Janie, don’t even think that.”
“But if it weren’t for me—”
“Janie, stop.” There was steel in his voice now."Catherine made her decision, and she used you as an excuse to make it. That’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with you personally. Not really.”