Lee has the day after New Year’s off, but he’s restless, vibrating around his apartment. It had snowed overnight, but then gotten up just above freezing, so now there are sheets of ice everywhere. Going out’s not the best idea. The problem is, staying here isn’t either.
He tries to emulate Amanda and clean, but just thinking about her is enough to drive him even crazier. After half an hour, he throws a dishcloth at the sink and gives in. This isn’t going to work either. Nothing that reminds him of Amanda will.
Why hadn’t she been at the New Year’s party?
He’d invited her, of course. They’d spent the last two New Year’s Eves at the Russian Embassy, and he’d come to think of it as one of their own little traditions — even though last year had been something of a debacle. He’d promised her, when he asked her this year, that there’d be no vodka.
“That’s nice,” she’d answered, “but I’ll have to decline. I have plans.”
Lee couldn’t quite bring himself to ask what those plans were. He couldn’t bring himself to ask anything too personal. Ever since he’d come back into town, there’d seemed to be a barrier between him and Amanda. He doesn’t like it. Not one bit.
If she’d spent New Year’s with her ex-husband, he doesn’t really want to know about it.
Except, of course, that he does.
Muttering another disgusted curse under his breath, Lee finds his jacket and heads out. Even if it’s not safe to drive, he’s walked through worse. The air outside is crisp and cold, though raw and damp. He ignores it, ignores the fact that he can see his breath, ignores the people he passes by. Ignores pretty much everything, in fact, except the thoughts that just plain won’t stop.
She’s with Joe. She prefers Joe.
Lee shakes his head. Amanda hasn’t said anything along those lines. Hasn’t mentioned spending time with Joe outside of a few excursions that concentrated on the boys. There’s no reason to think they’ve rekindled things.
All the same, he hadn’t misinterpreted the look on her ex-husband’s face that night at Dooley’s. He wants her back.
Except she’s come in to work several times. She’d even worked a case with him. One that, despite all their banter, had left them strangely at odds with each other for quite a while. It’d been years since they had argued like that, and while they’d found their way through the disagreement about William Towne and Wally Tuttle, it had left him reeling. Were they backsliding? Was it a sign of things changing?
His foot slips on an icy dip in the sidewalk, and Lee has to lurch forward to keep from falling. The jolt pulls him out of his head and back to his icy surroundings.
And once again, he’s disgusted.
He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t brood over his relationships with women. If they begin to go sour, he cuts his losses and moves on. He never lets himself get emotionally involved. That way leads to compromise.
It’s not like you and Amanda were in a relationship anyway, part of his mind reminds him.
He shakes his head sharply. No more brooding. No more ruminating. If Amanda prefers the comfort of being with her ex-husband, well, that’s just one more reason that he’s had the right attitude all along.
But you don’t know that’s the case. You’re just second-guessing things, some other part of his mind points out.
Lee kicks against a pile of snow on the ground, causing it to vanish into a spray of icy pellets.
If he could only just talk to her! Over the past few months, after they’d quit making excuses about spending time together outside of work, it had begun to feel as if they could talk about anything. It’s been a delightful novelty for him. And he likes it. He likes the dinners, the errands, the evenings that last longer than they strictly need to. Until now, he hasn’t realized how much he loves just sitting and talking to Amanda —
Lee stops in his tracks.
No, he doesn’t.
He doesn’t love it.
He can’t love it.
That’s not how his life works.
A car passes by, fishtailing its way up the street, and in the process it throws a curtain of ice and slush his direction. Lee jumps back, but he’s not quite able to avoid it altogether, and the cold water soaks through his shoes and socks. He’ll need to go home and change them, and sooner would be better than later.
Even if it does mean sitting in an apartment that suddenly seems to be too large and too quiet.
He waves distractedly at the doorman as he comes back into his building, making a beeline for the elevator.
“Oh,” says the doorman just before the door closes. “I meant to ask you to tell Mrs. King that her cookies were delicious.”
“I’ll let her know.” Lee’s last word is cut off by the elevator doors, but it’s just as well. The last thing he needs is just one more reminder about Amanda.
He kicks his shoes off the minute he’s through his door, hopping from foot to foot as he peels the socks off behind them. The warmth in the apartment feels good against his skin. Almost sensuous, in a way, after the way the wet cold had been seeping through. It reminds him of all the times he’d been a convenient warm body. It’s never something he minded, especially when he was doing the same thing in reverse.
Is that all he’d ever been to Amanda?
He shakes his head again. No. That wasn’t her style. And they hadn’t done anything like that anyway.
Damn it, if he could just talk to her!
Catching sight of himself in the hallway mirror, he shakes his head. He looks more troubled now than he had when he’d left.
“So talk to her, you coward,” he tells his reflection.
But what if I find out something I don’t want to know?
He shakes his head in disgust once more. And this time, he heads for the liquor cabinet. He’d kept his word about not drinking too much on New Year’s Eve. He’d never made any promises about the day afterward.