“That’s terrific,” Duncan said. His response seemed genuine to her. “So no celebrity book then?”
“Nope. The Johnny Depps of the world can sleep a little easier. Actually, I think I’ve been sick of the whole celebrity genre longer than I realized. That may be why I wasn’t paying enough attention to what the researcher on my last book was doing.” Phoebe smiled. “Oh, and don’t worry. The memoir part will focus mostly on what happened in boarding school. I won’t be delving into any romantic details from my life now.”
“Ahh, so my fifteen minutes of fame will have to be postponed,” Duncan said. He smiled at her, but to her dismay he quickly signed the receipt and slipped his card into his wallet.
“I know you’re just about to leave, so I won’t hold you up,” Phoebe said hurriedly. “But the reason I stopped by was to tell you how sorry I am about what I said to you that day by the Grove. It was awful, and I hope you can accept my apology.”
Duncan looked off for a second, his deep brown eyes betraying no hint of how he would answer. He returned his gaze to her and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“That sounds a bit tentative,” Phoebe said.
He exhaled a little, making a frustrated sound, and turned both hands palm side up.
“Well, it’s not like you stepped on my toe, Phoebe. You suggested that I might have murdered Lily Mack. There’s a bit more of an ouch factor with something like that.”
She winced as he said the words. “I know,” she said. “Again, I’m sorry. I—I’d begun to feel like everything was closing in on me then. And I just wasn’t thinking straight.”
Duncan’s body seemed to relax. “Apology accepted, okay?”
“Thank you,” she said.
He slid from the stool. Just behind him was a row of pegs, and he tugged his coat off one of them.
“Are you going to be okay getting back to campus?” he asked. She didn’t allow herself to feel excited by the comment. The words suggested an invitation for a ride, but his tone had been totally perfunctory.
“Yes, I have my car,” she said. “I’ll have a bite to eat and then head home.”
“Well, enjoy. Good night.”
“Actually,” Phoebe said as he turned to go, “there’s one more thing I’d like to say. Do you have an extra minute?”
“Okay,” he said after a second’s hesitation. To her relief, he didn’t appear annoyed. He leaned against the bar, looking at her.
“Like I said, I’ve had a chance to really think about my life lately,” Phoebe said. “And I see now how much I always tended to hold back—you know—in personal situations. Maybe that’s why I liked writing about celebrities—I could observe them and dig around about them, but I could keep my distance, too. My former boyfriend called recently and told me I suffered from a failure to get my feet wet emotionally.”
Duncan didn’t say anything, just studied her. She could tell he was wondering where she was going with all this. Phoebe grabbed another breath.
“That day by the woods, you told me that you thought we had something special, and I did, too,” she said. “But at the same time I think I was looking for an excuse to pull back, and that’s why I let myself doubt you. It was a stupid mistake, and I regret it terribly. I know you’ll find this crazy—really crazy. But I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance.”
She saw his eyes widen. He hadn’t seen this coming.
He took a deep breath, held it, and looked off toward the dining room, searching, she assumed, for a response.
“I—I just don’t know what to say,” he said. “It just seemed over that day.”
“Don’t tell me you’re dating Val now,” she said, trying to be playful. She cringed inside at her clunky attempt at humor, but Duncan actually chuckled.
“No,” he said. “I’m not dating anyone. Believe it or not, this has been hard for me, too, Phoebe.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Phoebe said. She felt a surge of guilt but at the same time wondered: if their split had really troubled him, there might still be something there. “You don’t have to give me an answer tonight, but will you just think about what I asked?”
He held her eyes, parting his lips just a little.
“All right,” he said after a couple of seconds. “I’ll think about it.”
He said good-bye and slipped out of the restaurant. The waiter finally returned with her wine. She took a long sip, set the glass down, and smiled. Duncan may not have given her an answer, but he’d done something that left her hopefuclass="underline" he had nodded his head unconsciously when he’d spoken. And Phoebe knew—from so many years observing people while she interviewed them—that that was what people did when, without knowing it yet, they planned to say yes.
Acknowledgments
Some terrific people took time out of their demanding jobs to help me in the research for The Sixes, and I am very indebted to them: Jonathan Birbeck, Esq., chief deputy district attorney, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania; Cheryl Brown, associate vice chancellor, University of California at Davis; Barbara Butcher, chief of staff, New York City Medical Examiner; Dr. Chet Lerner, chief, Section of Infectious Diseases, New York Downtown Hospital; Dr. Mark Howell, psychotherapist; Dr. Jill Murray, psychotherapist and author; author Sheila Weller; Kenneth Wagner, Ph.D., CLM, water resources manager.
Thank you as well to Kathy Schneider for all her encouragement and support; Sandy Dijkstra for her awesome agenting; Sally Kim for being such a terrific editor; and Maya Ziv for her fabulous eleventh-hour guidance; and Rachel Elinsky for her continuous awesome work on the PR front.
About the Author
KATE WHITE, the editor-in-chief of Cosmopolitan magazine, is the New York Times bestselling author of the stand-alone novel Hush and the Bailey Weggins mystery series—If Looks Could Kill; A Body to Die For; ’Til Death Do Us Part; Over Her Dead Body; and Lethally Blond. White is also the author of popular career books for women, including Why Good Girls Don’t Get Ahead but Gutsy Girls Do. She lives in New York City.
Also by Kate White
Fiction
Hush
Lethally Blond
Over Her Dead Body
’Til Death Do Us Part
A Body to Die For
If Looks Could Kill
Nonfiction
You on Top
9 Secrets of Women Who Get Everything They Want
Why Good Girls Don’t Get Ahead but Gutsy Girls Do
Credits
Cover design by Christine Van Bree
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.