Still, I tried not to let our argument – or whatever it was – get me down. During my morning shower, I'd comforted myself with the fact that I'd be seeing Brody over breakfast, which would give us the chance to try to figure things out.
Instead, I'd emerged from my bedroom to see Waverly smirking in the kitchen like she knew something I didn't.
Turns out, this was true.
Looking obscenely delighted, she'd greeted me not with a "good morning," but with the news that Brody had left for the airport long before sunrise.
And now, she was saying, "Wearerestoring other houses, you know."
Oh, I knew alright.There was that long-neglected estate in California wine country along with that three-bedroom bungalow in Nashville, plus a farm house in Iowa.
Even though I'd never seen the houses personally, I'd seen plenty of pictures and video footage, too. Over the past couple of months, I'd helped Brody with some of the advance planning – brainstorming bathroom and kitchen layouts, along with countless other details.
I'd loved every minute of it, even when we disagreed, which wasn't as often as you'd think. But now, his sudden departure made me wonder what exactly I'd been missing.
Yes, Ihadrealized that Brody would eventually need to travel to the new sites. But I'd always figured that I'd have some advance warning when that actually happened.
And yes, there was a part of me that had hoped to be included, not with the actual show, but as Brody's, well, I didn't know what.
Girlfriend?
Lover?
Friend?
Colleague?
I was still trying to figure it out when Waverly announced, "AndI'mleaving for California tonight."
I stiffened. "What?"
"Well, Iamthe show's producer," she said.
It was funny. These days, I never thought of her as the producer, mostly because she didn't do much producing. Instead, she spent most of her time talking on her cell phone, shopping on-line, or complaining that no one ever listened to her ideas.
I stood in stunned disbelief as she went on to imply that Brody might be gone for a while.
With growing concern, I asked, "Do you know when he'll be back?"
With another smirk, she replied, "Sure."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to tell me?"
She paused, as if thinking. "Why should I?" she finally said. "You never tellmeanything."
By now, I felt like screaming. "I have no idea what you mean."
"Sure you do," she said. "You're fucking him, aren't you?"
I tensed.Crap.
My face grew uncomfortably warm, even as I coldly informed her, "That's none of your business."
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, looking decidedly displeased. "I knew I shouldn’t have told you that."
