“Nah Ben’s not at the farmhouse. He’s with his parents. Tim’s been holed up by himself for over a week. Ben said he refuses to talk to anyone, won’t even answer the phone. He went over there last night to check on him and I guess Tim was passed out in front of the fire with an empty bottle of tequila lying next to him.” Will gazes quickly at Ivy before looking away.
Clearly, Will thinks Tim’s acting like this because of her. Great. Thanks, Will, for giving me yet another thing to worry about. He’s trying to make Ivy feel guilty so she’ll go over there and talk to him, probably because Ben suggested it to him.
“Tim isn’t one to sulk,” I remark, watching Ivy out of the corner of my eye. “That sickening smile never leaves his face. Something else must be going on.”
“I have a theory,” Ivy responds.
I throw a quick glance in Will’s direction. He seems just as surprised as I am, and he leans forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the table. He hasn’t heard this from her either. Whatever new suspicion she’s been harboring, it’s news to him, too.
“It’s nothing more than a hunch,” she continues, my attention riveted to her. “But I’ve been thinking that maybe Tim wasn’t the father of Cassidy’s baby. Someone else was.”
“Ivy, I know you’d like nothing more than for Tim to turn out to be the good guy in all of this, but it’s just not going to happen,” I say carefully, trying not to let my exasperation show.
“Wait a minute.” Will holds up his hand. “Let’s hear her out.”
“It’s a gut feeling, really,” she replies, squirming in her seat under my reproachful gaze. “Tim always seemed to dance around the subject. He hinted at it, sure. But he never came right out and said he was the father.”
“Probably because he doesn’t know for sure,” I say glumly. “Just like I’ll never know for sure. What do you want us to do? Exhume her body for DNA?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ivy retorts, shaking her head at me like I’m out of my mind. “Absolutely not.”
“Well, what then?” Will pipes in, struggling to see where she’s going with this.
“I don’t think Tim ever slept with Cassidy,” she states calmly.
“Now she’s a mind reader,” Will responds with his signature brand of sarcasm, jutting out his chin.
“Ivy, why would you even say something like that?” I question her, probing deeper.
I hate that she thinks she knows Tim so well. They were only thrown together for a couple of days, but she believes she’s unearthed his biggest secret. If they established that degree of intimacy in such a short amount of time, I don’t want to think about what that could mean.
“I really can’t put it into words,” she says, struggling to express herself. “There’s just a sense of yearning that surrounds him whenever he talks about her. Like he’s heartsick because he never got to be with her.”
“That’s one interpretation,” Will cuts in. “Or maybe after knowing how good she was in the sack, he’s torn up inside because he’ll never get to bang her again.”
Ivy and I both glare at him from across the table.
“All right. Sorry. Language, I know,” Will says, backing down. “But, Ivy, I think you’re reading way too much into it. Tim was attracted to Cassidy his whole life, and at the time, she was vulnerable and looking for comfort. It’s not that complicated. Bada bing, bada boom.”
“But why was she looking for comfort?” Ivy’s eyes travel directly to my face.
She’s expecting an honest answer, but I don’t know if I’m ready to give her one.
“You had a fight with her, didn’t you?” Ivy prompts, not giving me a chance to respond.
I get up abruptly from the table, nearly taking the tablecloth with me.
“Hey, watch it!” Will scolds, throwing out his arm to keep the serving dishes from sliding onto the floor.
“You did. Didn’t you?” Ivy presses, not letting it go.
She’s getting way too close to something I don’t want to talk about. Why can’t she drop it? Why does she always have to be so damn persistent?
“So what if we did?” I ask, spinning around. “What’s it to you?”
I hate seeing the hurt I’m causing reflected back at me in her eyes. But she should know better than to pursue this. It’s not going to help matters.
“It means everything to me. You know that,” she responds, refusing to give in.
“Yeah. During her last winter break, we had a bit of a blowup.” I clench my jaw, not wanting to remember all this. “That whole fall semester, she was distant. I’d stop by her apartment and she was never there. I’d call her and she’d never pick up. I knew something was going on. I just didn’t know what.”