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Brandon raised his eyebrows. He had very expressive eyebrows.
I sighed. “Good point. Who cares if hedidmake lunch plans with her? He’s allowed to have friends. Even if they aren’t lesbians. Which she is. That’s what he said.” I chewed my lip.
It would be so easy to check. My laptop wasright there, beckoning to me.
“No,” I said out loud. “I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to Google her. I’m not going to look for pictures or wedding announcements. I’m not going to find her social media. No, no,no.”
But then I was on my feet, opening the laptop, typing in the wordsSofia Alvarez, Hart’s Ridge. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
But I didn’t stop.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, making me feel a little shaky as I scanned the list of results. Awards—Sofia was good at her job, apparently. Various pictures of her on the local trails. Talking to Girl Scouts. And then, finally, what I was looking for: a baby registry for Sofia and Ashley.
I sat back, releasing the breath I hadn’t known I was holding in a loudwhoosh.
Michael was telling the truth.
Not that I had ever really believed otherwise. So why had I Googled his friend?
The adrenaline evaporated, leaving behind only guilt and nausea. It was my marriage all over again. Searching for answers, digging into the lives of people who were, quite frankly, none of my damn business. Grant’s co-workers, the wives of his friends. I knew things about them I shouldn’t know—except for the one thing that had mattered to me, which was whether they had slept with my husband. For all my searching and digging, I had never found answers. It was our joint credit card statement that had finally pointed at the truth.
And that was the only difference here. For once, I had found the evidence. Not evidence of a lie, but evidence of the truth. That should make me feel better, shouldn’t it? Instead, I felt worse.
This wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to dig through the details of other people’s lives. It made me feel dirty. And the wondering, the doubting…that just made me feel sick to my stomach.
Brandon put his head on my thigh. I looked down at him. “It’s okay. It was just a little Google search. People do it all the time. No big deal. I didn’t go too far.”
Because I had found what I was looking for. What if I hadn’t? How much deeper would I have dug? Would I have looked up Sofia’s address, driven by her house? I had done those things during my marriage. I had hated every second of it, hated feeling like I was spiraling down a dark path I couldn’t control, but I had done it.
Why would this time with Michael be any different? Maybe I should call the whole thing off, now, before Ididgo too far.
Except…was that really necessary? Michael was leaving in less than two months, and when he left, our relationship would be over. We weren’t going to do the long-distance thing. My issues would end when we did.
I was making a mountain out of a molehill. What had happened during my marriage to Grant, yes, that was scary. I had hated who I had become, hated the dark place I had found myself where I couldn’t trust either my husband or myself. I never wanted to go back to that place again.
I wouldn’t, with Michael. Because Michael wasn’t my husband. I liked him. I liked him a lot, in fact. But I had only known him a couple weeks. This wasn’t love, and given the necessity of our endpoint, it never would be. There wasn’t going to be some big dramatic scene when we ended. We would be friends, I hoped, even if we rarely spoke or saw each other. That was actually preferable.
I could handle this—this small, temporary relationship—without becoming what I hated. A little Google search didn’t mean I was spiraling into the dark place again. I just needed to remember that this wasn’t forever. To set firm boundaries for myself and this relationship. I could do that.
My phone rang, startling me. I glanced down at the at the familiar nine digits and closed my laptop with a guilty snap before answering. “Hey, Michael.”
“Hey.”
His voice was soft, gentle. I winced. After that scene at Dreamer’s today, he probably thought I was such a drama queen. I didn’t want him to think of me as fragile. I didn’t want him to think I was a crazy jealous person. Which I was, but that wasn’t his fault. I didn’t want to be that with him. I wanted to be the sane, light-hearted fling he thought fondly of when it was over. My best self.
“Are we okay?” he asked. “After—”
“We’re okay,” I cut him off quickly. “We’re great. At lunch today? That was nothing.”
My lie was greeted with silent disbelief.
“So how was the appointment with your dad?” I asked, changing the subject. “Did it go okay?”
“Yeah. He liked the therapist, I think. Enough that he agreed to weekly virtual appointments, and a monthly in-person visit. We’ll see how it goes. I’m taking him to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore in two weeks to meet with more specialists.” He paused. “Nora, are you sure there isn’t something we need to talk about?”
I made a face and was glad he couldn’t see it through the phone. “I have an idea. We either talk about things that don’t matter at all, or things that will still matter two months from now. No in between. Like, the weather doesn’t matter. And your dad always matters.”
“But you and me.Wewon’t matter two months from now.” His voice was clipped. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”
