She called me.
Not Marcus. Me. I almost did not answer, but curiosity has always been a weakness of mine, and I knew that whatever Vivienne had to say would be more useful heard than avoided.
"I owe you an explanation," she said.
"You owe me several," I said.
A pause. "Can we meet?"
"No. Talk to me on the phone or don't talk to me at all."
Another pause. Then she said, "The baby is Jordan's."
I did not know who Jordan was. I said so.
"Jordan Reeves. He's a developer in Chicago. We've been involved for a year. He doesn't know about the pregnancy."
"Why not?"
"Because he's married."
I sat with that for a moment. The whole picture rearranged itself.
"So you came back to New York," I said, "already pregnant by a man who couldn't claim the child, and you used your history with Marcu
