Chapter 9: The Guy Who Pulled Her Out

Cal answered before I could.

"I'm the guy who pulled your wife out of your car."

He said it the same way he'd told me his name through the smoke.

Scott's face changed.

He knew him now.

"Right," Scott said. "The Good Samaritan."

"Firefighter," Cal said. "Off duty."

"Well. Thanks for your help." Scott looked at the takeout bags. "Dinner at eleven. That's nice."

"She hasn't eaten since noon, I'd guess."

"You'd guess." Scott turned to me. "You've been out of my house three days, Robin. You don't waste time, do you?"

"He carried my things up the stairs," I said. "Somebody had to. They were on your lawn."

"Mom's lawn."

"It's your house."

Cal set the bags down on the hood of his truck.

He didn't come any closer to Scott, but he didn't step back either.

"She's standing on a broken leg," he said. "You want to do this, do it tomorrow, somewhere she can sit down."

"I don't need you telling me how to talk to my wife."

"Ex-wife," I said.

"Not yet."

"I signed. You were there."

A small voice came out of the SUV.

"Daddy?"

We all turned.

Joey was sitting up in the car seat with his face pressed to the gap at the top of the window.

He looked at his father. Then at me.

Then at Cal, a big stranger next to me in the dark.

His face crumpled.

"Who's that?" He started to kick. "Who's that man? Daddy, who's that man with Aunt Robin?"

"It's nobody, buddy."

"Is he her new daddy?"

"No, Joey."

"She's a fake! She's a fake! She's a fake!"

He screamed it over and over, kicking the back of the seat, and the bear fell on the floor of the car.

The couple from the bar had stopped at the corner to watch.

Scott yanked open the driver's door.

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