Page 35 of An Unfinished Memory

A low chuckle came over the line. “We thought she’d lob insults right back, but she gushed about how the kids these days talk about body counts, as in how many people you’ve slept with, but she tallies her body count with people she’s helped save, and she’s proud to be in the triple digits.”

“Good for her.” I licked my dry lips. He gave me the courage to continue, but Brenda’s experience didn’t prod at the weakness in our marriage. “Carla, uh, commented that her first husband was a cop in Bozeman, and that it takes a strong woman to stick by law enforcement, and she’d still be with him if he hadn’t cheated.”

“Was that before or after our divorce?”

“During.” I was already caught in a tangle of self-recrimination because I’d stayed married longer than I was happy and hated myself for asking for a divorce. “I was in town to finish up some paperwork and ran across her at the bank.” I’d been raw and second-guessing myself. Carla had beamed at me like she was brandishing her HIS SECOND WIFE: THE STRONG ONE card to be with Wilder next.

“You’re a strong woman, Sutton,” he said quietly. “Fuck her. Shit—not literally. You know what I meant, right?”

My smile was a relief. The last person I thought I’d tell about Carla’s dig was Wilder, and he was the last person who should be making me feel better about it. “I know what you meant.”

“You’re picking up what I’m putting down?”

“And you think my game show lines are lame.” I missed this lightness with Wilder.

“Never said that,” he said almost defensively. “I was usually guessing what amount you were attaching to yourJeopardy!category.”

“I’ll take ‘What’s the Amount’ for three hundred.”

“See, now, I was thinking six hundred.”

I smiled. “Close.”

“I also never knew how to react to your sayings.”

Frowning, I traced a line in the fake marbled surface of the island top. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when I got you theJeopardy!board game for our first anniversary? I thought you were going to pass out and not from delight. Then you put it on the bookshelf, and by Christmas, it was gone.”

“You noticed that?” I thought I’d been sneakier.

“I noticed you like to quote game shows, but you don’t like to play them.”

“I used to have nothing else to watch when my parents were with Honey at all her practices and shows and training camps. They didn’t want to spend money on cable when they weren’t home.” I’d been home, but that hadn’t seemed to matter. The antenna was punishment for not wanting to skate or watch skating. “You’re lucky I’m not recitingDays of Our Livesstorylines.”

“Those soaps might be why you thought I’d go running to Carla.”

Just like that, he took the heaviness out of the conversation. “If the soaps were the reason I was suspicious, I’d have accused you of sleeping with my twin sister while I had amnesia.”

“You don’t have a twin, and you never hit your head, and I don’t like figure skating divas, so I’m in the clear.”

“You are,” I agreed, smiling.

“Tell me something crazy that happened at the clinic.”

Nostalgia crashed over me. These phone conversations, minus the Carla aspect, were a lot like when we first started dating. He’d ask about work, and I’d tell him the uplifting or humorous stories. In person, I’d cry on his shoulder about the heartbreaking ones. “Me and River, my tech, worked for twenty minutes to get a cat out of its carrier. River started calling it the anti-gravity cat.”

“Don’t the carriers come apart?”

“This one didn’t. It was a pain in the ass, and the cat wasn’t having it.” His deep chuckle was all I’d need to sleep well tonight. I didn’t have any more stories. Eventless weeks were good in my field. Since he opened the door to personal conversation, I wanted to hear about him. He was home. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Watching ESPN.”

Nothing new. I’d wait for him to get home so we could do something together, and he’d want to chill and watch TV. I’d had years to chill and watch TV.

“Ray’s retiring.”

“For real this time?”

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