The Body Mafia by Stacy Dittrich Page A

kids?” He was angry.
    I was stunned. “Do you want to tell me where the hell that came from?” I sat up, too. “Because right now, I feel like I was attacked without warning.”
    He put his face in his hands. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just wish sometimes that you could put your job aside for a while. I think that taking the girls down to Siesta Key would be a wonderful way for you to unwind and spend some time with them. You could take Sean, too.”
    “Honey, they’re all in school.” I was confused. “Maybe you should tell me what this is really about. What happened to Aruba?”
    He sighed and took a while before answering. “It’s probably guilt. I feel guilty because I haven’t been spending enough time with you guys lately, and I guess, if I knew you were down there having fun, it would ease my conscience a little.”
    I locked my narrowed eyes on his. “I’m sorry, but since when do you feel guilty about work? Since when do you think I put my job above my family?” I was angry now, and incredulous.
    “I don’t. Just forget I said anything.” He did his best to put on a smile.
    “No, I won’t forget it. You brought it up—now I want a better explanation! This guilt bullshit isn’t going to cut it. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you wanted the kids and me away from here for a more suitable reason, like our safety. Is there something I need to know, Michael?”
    “No, Cee, there’s not. I was telling you the truth.” He embraced me again. “God, I just love you so much! Do you know that?” He pulled away and looked at me with such intensity that it sent a barrage of chills through my body.
    “Yes, Michael. I do,” I whispered, and felt both mystified and frightened.
    “Just don’t ever forget that.”
    After we made love for the second time, we decided to venture back to the kitchen to clean up the remnants of our romantic dinner. While I was rinsing off plates, Naomi called.
    “I thought you might want to know this. John Kruse was last seen at the unemployment office by one of the clerks.”
    “And?”
    “Not much. He was in line, and she saw him walking out the door behind some guy. She could only see the back of him and said he had on a black coat. Not a highly trained observer, the clerk.”
    “Obviously. But that doesn’t really mean anything. She doesn’t know if he was with the guy, right? Hecould’ve just got tired of waiting for ten hours and left, probably right behind another customer.” I smiled as I watched Michael load the dishwasher.
    “True, true. She’s coming in tomorrow for a formal, probably three-word statement, but I thought you’d want to know just the same.”
    “Of course. Thanks for the info.”
    It was another fifteen minutes before Michael and I were finished with the dinner dishes. Michael was a wonderful cook, but a messy one. We went into the living room where he put a couple of logs into the fireplace. I stood and looked out the window for a minute before relaxing on the sofa.
    “How come you parked on the street?” I had noticed his car again.
    He looked perplexed. “Oh,” he finally remembered, “when I got home, the delivery guy was here and blocked the goddamn driveway. I meant to just park there for minute while I signed for the package.” He prodded the logs with a poker, trying to get the fire going.
    “What was the package?”
    “Toner for the fax. I’m going to run out and pull the car into the garage before some idiot rips out my stereo.”
    “It’s not like we live in crime central, hon. I think it’ll be all right for one night.” I didn’t want him to leave me for a second.
    “My short absence shall make your heart grow fonder.” He kissed me gently. “Keep the sofa warm.”
    I heard him grab his keys before opening the garage door. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and smiled. Michael was, and had been since I’d known him, therapy for me. He was a man I loved like noother man. Hearing the