He laughed. “Touché.”
In the end, we decided that if Drew still felt strongly about it at the end of the year, we’d put the house on the market. We’d find a house that would have all the things I loved about my house and one close to my parents. I secretly hoped that by the end of the year, the ghost of Greg would be eradicated, and the house would feel more like home to Drew. To that end, I insisted, he had to stop renting the brownstone, or at least sublet it.
We spent a Saturday cleaning out Greg’s study. I boxed up all of his files, his computer, and his paperwork. I hesitated with his brown leather journal, thumbing through the worn pages. They were dog-eared from nights of close examination when he had first left, as I looked for clues hidden in the shorthand scribbling. I stopped at the page with the poem.
I carry your heart with me.
I carry it in my heart.
C!
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up into Drew’s bright blue eyes and saw no fear, no jealousy, just compassion.
“What do you think happened to Greg?” I asked. I must have asked him that question a hundred times, but he always answered differently, a variation on the theme of Who the hell knows?
“I don’t know. I really don’t. But since Detective Reynolds came up with that car, all I can think is that was him at the bottom of Lake Onondaga. With Melissa Richards. It’s the only thing that makes any sense, you know?”
I nodded. I had thought the same thing, but never said it aloud. “Do you think he was dating Melissa Richards? And if so, then who was Karen?”
He joined me on the floor of the study, sitting cross-legged next to me. “Could he have had two mistresses?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t know he had one.” I paged carefully through the leather journal. “How would you feel if I kept this? If I didn’t put it into storage?”
He thought for a moment and finally shrugged. “It’s part of you. I don’t believe you’ll ever close the door on that life. I wouldn’t want you to; it made you who you are. It eventually brought us together. I think you’ll always wonder and question. And I’m okay with that.”
I loved that most about Drew. We had no secrets. Talking was the cornerstone of our relationship. I knew all of his clients, all of his buyers, and all the galleries he frequented. Since I’d resigned from my job, he knew my days in excruciating detail. And they all involved activities with the kids. He asked my advice on things and valued my opinions. Our evenings were filled with music and chatter, and after the kids were put to bed, the television rarely went on. I loved the candidness of our relationship, so different from the eggshell environment I had my last year with Greg, where every question turned into an inquisition, every answer testy. I tried not to compare, but it was impossible. Even in our best days, Greg and I had rarely talked as frequently and with the same intensity as Drew and I did. It was a depth to life I never knew existed.
“I still wonder every day,” I said, running my hand over the soft leather cover.
“I know. I know you do. Me, too, you know? Not for the same reasons, of course.”
“What are your reasons?” I asked.
“Well, first, it’s plain bizarre. A Twilight Zone episode. So yeah, of course I’d love to know the truth. But secondly, I worry every day that this will end, the way everyone does when they’re in love. But I have the added worry of not knowing if your ex-but-not-ex-husband could come waltzing back into your life at any time. It’s hard to be a hundred percent comfortable when there may never be finality, you know?”
I nodded. I did know. It had crossed my mind before: what if Greg had run away and decided to come back? What would I do? I shook my head. Greg and Claire were over, regardless of his being alive or dead. It was hard to admit, and I had yet to say it out loud, but I had something with Drew that I had never had with Greg. I could never give that up. It was as though I had lived my whole life missing a sense, and Drew had given it back to me. My life seemed richer. Food tasted better; colors seemed brighter. I saw humor in situations that would have plain irritated me previously. It wasn’t that I’d had a bad life with Greg. I just never knew it could be so good. Instead of saying all of that, as I wasn’t ready to admit to the relative emptiness of my life before, I touched his hand and said, “There’s finality. That’s not something you need to worry about.”
Drew moved the desk and the filing cabinets out to the barn to be put up later on eBay. Standing in the almost empty study, I inhaled deeply. The room still had the same smell, like leather and man. Drew was going to use it as his office, a place to consolidate paperwork from his sales and possibly meet buyers.