When the elevator doors opened, I found Dan standing in the same spot he’d been in yesterday. Like yesterday, he wore all black—pants, shirt, jacket, no tie. Unlike yesterday, I didn’t feel the need to hesitate, to mentally prepare.
Stepping off the lift, I walked to him, contented in my numbness.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a little wave as I approached. I pushed one hand in my pocket, and the other held my garment bag. Careful to stop a good five feet away, I didn’t want a cheek kiss or embrace repeat from the day before. “Should we go?”
His gaze flickered over me, his expression inscrutable. “Sure.”
“Please. Lead the way.” I gave him a tight smile.
Dan didn’t move. Instead, he lifted his chin toward my garment bag. “Are you planning to change?”
Looking him over, the dark suit that was basically his uniform, I felt a renewed burst of embarrassment and silliness about my desire to look my best. But then I chloroformed that burst of embarrassment.
I wanted to look nice for me, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. I desired it. End of story.
Dan could wear a Speedo for all I cared—gah! Dangerous imagery! Alert! Divert thoughts! Fury, determination, indignation . . . much better—but I would wear this pretty dress and I refused to feel silly about it.
Lifting my chin and feeling defiant, I responded, “Yes. I was planning on it. But I can change at the Clerk’s office.”
“Do you mind if we stop by my place to change? Wally could use a quick walk and I was planning on changing too.”
Hey! Maybe he’s planning to switch into a Speedo.
I chloroformed that thought too and shrugged, nodding once. “Sounds good.”
Dan’s gaze lingered on my garment bag, his features still inscrutable. He then turned, his shoulders rising and falling as though taking a deep breath, and strolled to the lobby doors.
Perhaps he was no longer my dream man. But the simple truth was, not ogling Dan the Security Man was impossible.
I walked a few feet behind him, possibly thinking about how nice his butt would look in a Speedo.
Chapter Ten
Marital Privilege (aka spousal privilege): There are two types of marital privilege recognized by US law:
1. Testimonial Privilege: In criminal cases, one spouse may refuse to testify against his/her defendant spouse as a witness.
2. Communications Privilege: In both criminal and civil cases, communications between spouses during the marriage are privileged. This applies to both words and acts intended to be a private communication.
—Wex Legal Dictionary
**Dan**
Stan picked us up in one of the company cars. We were close enough to the East Randolph Street property that it made sense to change there, check on Wally, and then head to the Clerk’s office for the ceremony.
I glanced at the back of Kat’s head. She was sitting in the back seat with me, but had herself pressed against the door on her side, keeping as much distance as possible between us.
Her posture had me antsy. I felt like I needed to apologize. I ignored that feeling. Mild discomfort now would likely save me some seriously nasty discomfort later.
But still, I was antsy.
So I tried, “What are you doing tonight? Got any plans?”
She stiffened, then held perfectly still. Eventually she responded, “I need to study.”
“No class on Fridays?”
“No. Monday and Thursday nights.” Her voice was quiet. Controlled. Distant.
“Oh,” I said, rubbing my chest with the fingers of one hand, because that shitty feeling was back and it felt a lot like heartburn.
Having nothing more to say to the back of her head, I turned my phone back on to check messages. I’d turned my phone off while waiting for her in the lobby. I’d wanted the next hour to myself. Really, I’d wanted Kat to myself.
But now that she was giving me the silent treatment, there was no reason for me to dodge work. As soon as my phone connected to the cell network, all my notifications went off. One in particular caught my attention. It was from Alex.
Alex: We took Wally for the night. You’re welcome.
I lifted an eyebrow. Typical Alex. I’d given up trying to keep him out of my apartment. My dog liked the kid too much, and I wasn’t going to complain if it meant Wally got more exercise and company.
But last week, Alex had changed Kat’s contact information in my phone to Wife. He hadn’t owned up to it, but I knew it had been him. Who else could it be? He knew everything, was like some sort of fucking mind reader. Or a genius. One or the other.
Probably the latter . . . probably.
Stan parked in front of the apartment building and opened Kat’s door while I climbed out my side.