Chapter 40
Ilena
Monday Morning
Four Days After the Outing
Ilena straightens the biodegradable carrying tray on the bench beside her. The mingling aromas of strong coffee, Earl Grey,
mocha, and peppermint make her slightly nauseous, her superior sense of smell apparently a pregnancy superpower, but she wasn’t
sure what James liked and she wanted to have options.
Remembering what Felix said about James and punctuality, she arrived early and chose a bench closest to the dock. Across from
her is a rainbow of kayaks and paddleboards, stacked one on top of another, looped by a cord and locked, waiting to be rented,
their purpose otherwise unfulfilled, in need of someone else to bring them to life. It was the way Ilena had been starting
to feel as month after month after month, her body refused to do as she asked.
She couldn’t understand why it was just her, why it wasn’t the same for Jonah, why he could put it out of his mind the same way he forgot about the time-outs in the hallway that pushed them to buy their house.
He forgot this too, the kayaks and paddleboards they’d always talked about renting as they drove past on their way to that exorbitantly priced home with its postage-stamp yard and crumbling detached garage.
He asked for the divorce so easily. He must have been wanting it for a while. And she’d had no idea.
“Mrs. Singh,” a singsong voice says.
Ilena puts on a smile. “Thank you for coming, James.”
“God, you are glowing, aren’t you?” James says with both honesty and derision. “Who thought Ilena Cohen could get more gorgeous?
But then again, you’re full of surprises.”
“Not always good ones, it seems.”
“Wait, why are we . . .” James wrinkles his nose, his smattering of freckles dancing. “Is Felix all right? The baby—”
“Fine, we’re all fine. Healthy, we’re all healthy. Physically, we’re all perfectly fine, but mentally, I need you to help
with that.” She holds up the tray of hot beverages. “Fortification?”
“Do I smell mocha?”
She hands him the mochaccino. Her phone buzzes beneath her thigh, and as she sets the tray back down, she subtly slides her
leg aside. It’s a text from Aubrey wondering where she is, reminding her, as if she could forget, that the police are coming
to AIM.
This is exactly what Mallory feared—that a pregnancy, that a baby, would divide Ilena’s time and loyalty. She couldn’t argue
about the first, but the second, that would only deepen. A baby meant she’d need Mallory even more.
Ilena places her leg back on top of the phone and faces James. “I’d like to ask you some questions, but I don’t want you to
ask me why I’m asking or say I already know the answer. I just want you to be honest with me. And in turn, I’ll be as honest
as I can back.”
James sips his coffee. “You did hear the qualification in there, right?”
She nods. “I’ll do the best I can, that’s as much as I can promise.”
“On one condition. I get to ask you something that you have to answer with complete honesty.”
“All right. That’s fair.”
He rolls one hand. “Proceed.”
Ilena picks up the Earl Grey tea, and her stomach twists. She trades it for the peppermint, her eyes misting as James carefully
takes the tray and rests the drinks on the ground, far from her overly sensitive nose. She clears her throat. “How long have
you and Felix been friends?”
“You know—”
“James, you agreed.”
“Whatever. Six years.”
“And you’ve been close.”
“Is that a question?”
“Have you ever been closer than friends?”
“Like do we each have half of a BFF heart necklace?”
“Sure. Or an actual heart? One another’s?”
James stills.
Ilena wraps both hands around her tea. “Were you ever romantically involved?”
“Ilena, this—”
“There’s a reason, I promise.”
One foot begins tapping, gently rocking the bench. “A bit, but we weren’t exclusive.” His gaze travels to Ilena’s pregnant
belly. “Obviously.”
So it was recent. “Were you in love?”
“‘You’ in the singular or plural?”
“Whichever. Both.”
“Singular, yes. My god, yes. Plural? I can only say I was hoping.”
“But I got in the way.”
James sighs. “It gives me immense satisfaction to think it was just you, but unless you’re some kind of snake charmer for penises, it wasn’t just you.”
Ilena smiles weakly. “That’d be a résumé builder, wouldn’t it?”
“Some doors would burst wide open.”
“Touché.” Ilena is reminded of how much she’d always liked James. “And yet the door on you two, I closed that.” She presses
a hand to her stomach. “Me and the singleton.”
“Why are you asking, Ilena? What is all this for?”
“Last night you said—”
“A lot of things I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t the right moment.”
“Maybe not, but sometimes we can’t always wait for the right moment. We have to make the right moment.”
“I appreciate you trying to excuse my behavior, but I was in the wrong. The right moment was months ago. But I was scared.
I waited, and, well, I—”
“Ate some bad sushi the day of our wedding.”
“Not exactly.”
“I figured.”
James holds Ilena’s gaze. “For the record, Felix wants the baby. He’s always wanted to be a dad. I shouldn’t have suggested
he wasn’t sure about that part.”
“Then the part he wasn’t sure about was me.” Ilena’s throat goes dry as this world holds up a mirror to the one she left.
Before Jonah had brought up having children, she hadn’t really considered it. Being a mom meant risking becoming her mom,
creating a family of unceasing disappointment. But Jonah—the Jonah who bought street performers’ CDs and made out with her
in John Harvard’s lap and would have plastered their home with images of cats in glasses and sunsets and rainbows touting “If plan A fails,
there are twenty-five more letters”—that Jonah would have made sure Ilena was never her mom and would never have reason to be.
That’s why she’d agreed. She’d wanted to do this with Jonah.
She still does. She thought he’d missed all those appointments at the fertility clinic because he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a dad anymore.
But maybe it’s the same, maybe the part he wasn’t sure about was her.
An ache comes from deep within her body. “Felix always wanted to be a dad. But he could have been a dad with someone else.
Someone he actually loved.”
James sets down his coffee. “Is that a question?”
“It’s a statement. We’re not in love.” She tries to absorb the warmth of her tea, but it’s already fading. “He’s not in love
with me any more than I’m in love with him.”
“But you knew that going in. What’s changed?”
She owes him a truthful answer, so she gives it. “What’s changed is wanting it, wanting to be in love. And wanting Felix to
have the same.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Once again, Jonah is before her, and the warmth the tea denied her comes, flooding her veins, warming her cheeks, swelling
her heart. “I have no idea, but I’m working on it.”
“Good.”