Try never, he wanted to say, but he knew her wrath was worse than her obsessiveness.

"It's not going to happen, Jennifer." He made his way down the aisle, looking for some privacy by a bank of windows. "I told you, I have a wife and baby now. And a job that I was trying to do when you called, like, a hundred times."

"Patience was never my thing. And as I remember it, you were always pretty quick to pull the trigger."

Before he could stop it his wretched mind went there. In bed with Jennifer, her naked body slithering over his, skin on skin . . .

He hadn't had s.e.x for months. The doctor had asked them to wait six weeks after the baby was born, but even after that Chelsea hadn't been into it at all. He understood. He totally got it. But sometimes a man's body had a mind of its own.

He gritted his teeth, took a breath, and pulled himself together. "Did you have some reason for calling me, or can I get back to work?"

"I want to be your friend. I want to hang out with you. We had a lot of laughs together, right? We can do that again. And I'll even let you stay married."

"It's not going to happen, Jennifer. Find yourself another boyfriend."

"But I want you. I want to meet your kid . . . the girl version of Leo."

The thought of Jennifer going anywhere near Annie perked up his defenses. "Not going to happen, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me. We made a clean break and it worked out pretty well. Let's keep it that way."

"Oh, now you're p.i.s.sing me off."

"A necessary evil. You always test a person's limit, Jennifer."

"Honey, I haven't begun to fight. And don't think you're getting rid of me so easily. I know where you live. I've seen wifey and baby, more than once. And to be honest, the old girl looks like h.e.l.l. I guess motherhood doesn't agree with her."

Fury flamed in his chest as he paced in front of the tinted gla.s.s windows. Jennifer couldn't have known that her comment touched a sensitive spot. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of hearing his pain, but he wasn't going to let her tear down Chelsea.

"Leave my wife and baby alone," he snarled. "What you're doing is borderline stalking, Jennifer, and I'm not letting you near my wife and kid. Don't think I won't call the police."

"Leo, Leo, you were always so quick to jump to conclusions. I wouldn't dream of upsetting your applecart. But if wifey and baby were to just happen to be in the same grocery store or restaurant, well, nothing I can do about that."

"Stay away from them."

Her laugh was cold and forced. "Oops. Gotta go."

"Stay away!"

"Call you later, babe."

The line clicked off, leaving him to deal with an afternoon of indigestion and worry.

Chapter 12.

On the way to the grocery store, Chelsea turned left at the stop sign and right at the traffic light. She pa.s.sed the 7-Eleven, where she used to stop for coffee every morning on her way to work. Yes, this was the route to her office, as familiar and comfortable as her favorite slippers.

How she wished she were going there. She pretended that she had a meeting this afternoon. Meetings were great-one of the most social aspects of working on the magazine. And after the meeting, when others were turning off lights and computers and heading home, Chelsea would be settling in to work during the twilight hours when the office grew quiet and the only thing that mattered was the article taking shape-morphing and growing and finding its own voice.

On impulse, she stayed on the road and shot right past the Safeway. Her mind cheerfully ticked off the small landmarks along the way-the deli with the picture of a boar's head on the sign, the funeral home that was so well kept it resembled a movie set. She pa.s.sed the row of stores where someone had once nicked her b.u.mper while she was picking up clothes from the cleaners.

These were her old stomping grounds.

Her pulse was beating a little faster as she pulled into the parking lot of the six-story building. Her fingers automatically pressed the b.u.t.ton for the fifth floor, and suddenly she was there, surrounded by the familiar noises and faces and smells of the magazine office.

Her gaze went right to the cubicle by the pillar-her work station. She'd been working here when she met Leo. The evening of their first date, she had slipped away from that desk to redo her makeup in the bathroom mirror. When she found out she was pregnant, she had sat there during her lunch hour, searching online for baby quilts and parenting advice. And sometimes she would stay late going over her lists of things to do, getting her ducks in a row. She had wanted everything to be perfect in the nursery and in the house when the baby arrived. Back then she had been in control-so happy and hopeful.. . .

"Chelsea?" Stan Dombrowski looked up from his desk. He didn't spare her a smile, but there was a warm inflection in his voice. "It's a blast from the past."

People greeted her warmly.

"How ya doing?" Marco paused on his way to the elevator, s.h.i.+fting his clipboard under one arm.

"Did you bring the baby?" Tansley asked. "I want to meet her."

Chelsea shook her head. "I wasn't really planning to stop by."

Across the room, Sasha Barton dropped a batch of proofs onto a table and threw her hands in the air. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?"

Chelsea bit back a smile as her closest friend at the magazine rushed through the rows of cubicles-the ice cube tray, the employees called it.

Sasha threw her arms around Chelsea and danced her back and forth. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she spoke quietly in Chelsea's ear.

"I didn't know myself."

"Mm-hmm?" Sensing that something was up, Sasha stopped rocking. Her bracelets jangled as she leaned back to a.s.sess Chelsea.

With s.h.i.+ny dark hair and mocha-colored skin, Sasha always complained that she was ordinary looking. But there was nothing ordinary about her startling green eyes and high cheekbones. Add in the emerald stud in her nose and her penchant for jewelry, and she was positively exotic. "Well, we need to talk," Sasha said.

For the next few minutes Chelsea fielded questions about Annabelle and pa.s.sed around her cell phone so that everyone could see pictures.

"What a beauty!" someone said.

"You've got it all now."

Tansley cooed over the baby, and everyone wished Chelsea well. "You must be over the moon with happiness."

"You're lucky to be out of here," Marco said. "Now that we're up for sale, every procedure is being micromanaged."

"You're up for sale?" Chelsea hadn't heard that news.

"Yeah, but who's going to buy a print magazine in this changing market?" Sasha pointed out.

"Do you think Annabelle looks more like you or like Leo?" Tansley asked.

"I don't know," Chelsea said, trying to tune into a question asked by Alexa Garcia, who'd just joined the group.

"Remember that Staten Island kitchen we're upgrading?" Alexa asked. "The couple has decided that they want to take out the center window and subst.i.tute a gas fireplace. Do you think that can be done within our budget?"

"I don't know." Sasha tilted her head to one side. "I haven't done a gas fireplace recently."

"Is there a gas line running to the kitchen already?" Chelsea asked.

Alexa nodded. "But no chimney."

"You don't need a chimney," Chelsea said confidently. "On an outside wall, you'll vent it right through the wall. It's actually not a bad idea if they want to replace the window."

"Great," Alexa said. "I'll call the home owner."

"How did you know that when you've been out of the biz for three months?" Tansley asked.

"I've been researching it for my own house." It felt good to be back in the office, in the thick of decisions and conversations.

Sasha and Marco exchanged a look. "I told you," Sasha said. "Chelsea is the Can-Do Girl. Once she starts researching something, this one never gives up."

"Come back to work, please!" Marco pleaded.

"Don't even say that," Tansley insisted. "Chelsea is living the dream, with a great husband, a house, and an angel-faced baby. Why would she come back?"

Because I feel alive when I'm here. Because I was happy here, and I need to find my way back to a safe, sane place.

Tansley wanted to hear more about the baby, but Chelsea longed to talk business. Conversation began to fizzle as phones beckoned, and one by one people returned to their desks.

"Let's talk in my office," Sasha said.

As Chelsea followed her friend, her fingers twitched, longing to pick up the layouts and get a preview of the articles the staff had been working on.

"Sit if you can find a free inch," Sasha said, gesturing to the chair and table piled with proofs.

The batch on the chair was old; corrections had already been made. But Chelsea felt an odd contentment just holding the pages in her hands, leafing through them. "I miss this."

"You're kidding, right?"

Chelsea shook her head. "Talking about the gas fireplace just now, I felt more alive than I have since Annie was born. I wish people didn't close me out. I feel like an outsider when they tell me how I'm so much better off out of here."

"They're just looking at the facts. Subscriptions are down, and the magazine doesn't translate well to e-trade. Management announced that there will be no raises this year, and we might have to cut staff. You really are lucky to be out."

"I don't feel lucky." Tears filled her eyes, but fortunately Sasha was digging through her desk drawer and didn't notice.

"As I remember it, you couldn't wait to get out of here and be home with Leo and the baby."

"That's what I thought, but I was wrong." A tear dripped down her face, and she swiped it away with the back of one hand. "I'm a terrible mother. I'm tired all the time. Every day is the same, chasing dirty diapers and a dirty house and bills. Feeding Annie every few hours. It never ends and there's no hope in sight."

"You sound bad." Sasha came around and perched on the edge of her desk. "I wish there was something I could do to help you. Have you talked to your doctor?"

"He says it will pa.s.s."

"Typical man. I'm no expert, but this sounds like depression."

Chelsea shook her head. It didn't matter what it was called . . . no name or label could change the dark void that waited for her back in that house.

"You know, my sister went through something like this." Although Sasha did not have children, her large family included a mix of white and African American women who had plenty of stories to tell. "She kept imagining terrible things happening to her baby . . . like slipping off a bridge. Stuff like that."

"Me, too. I get these . . . dark visions."

Sasha bit her lower lip and held out a box of tissues. "Tell me about it, honey."

She let it all spill out in no certain order. Sasha listened sympathetically, and Chelsea was grateful that her friend wasn't trying to judge her. When Chelsea was through, Sasha cleared off another chair and sat close to her.

"I've known you for years, and this is not you. You seem to be getting help, and that's good. There's a place inside you that holds peace and love. I know that. Right now, you're hurting bad, but you will find that peace again."

A new wave of tears overcame Chelsea. "I can't see that happening."

"It will. But get with your sister and that new doctor. Let them help you."

Chelsea pressed a handful of tissues to her eyes. "What happened to your sister?"

"She's fine now. But she left her baby with my mother. Just dropped her off one day and didn't come to pick her up for six months."

Chelsea wished she could drop Annie off somewhere and leave her for a few months. It would be such a relief to be free of the baby . . . free again.

Her own person.

But that would never happen. She was stuck, imprisoned in the very life she had longed for.

Chelsea felt like a shadow of her former self as she left the building, mourning the loss of her old life. After a quick stop at the grocery store she arrived home to find Annabelle napping and Eleni entertaining herself by texting.

"How did it go?" she asked, rea.s.sured that there were no signs of a visitor.

"Fine." The girl didn't even glance up from her cell phone screen. "She slept most of the time."

Of course she did. Chelsea wouldn't have been so lucky had she stayed home.

Their voices seemed to summon the baby from sleep. Annie twisted her lips and began to mouth her fist. Hungry, of course.

Chelsea got Eleni to help her put the perishables away, then paid her, arranging for her to return Wednesday so Chelsea could keep her appointment with Dr. Chin. With the groceries half unpacked, she washed her hands and sat down to feed the baby.

Down in the deep hole worn into the corner of the couch.

Her black hole.

Exhausted by the outing, she dozed off with Annie in her arms. When she opened her eyes, Annie was sleeping in her chair, though Chelsea didn't recall putting her there. The splattering down of raindrops seemed so near. Had she left a window open? She rubbed her eyes, thinking that it was too cold for rain. . . .

She turned and marveled at the fountain springing forth from the light on the kitchen ceiling. Water spewed out from the round fixture like a radiant sun. It struck her as beautiful until she realized it was splattering onto the floor and the electric range.