I asked if I could reach her somewhere. I knew I could always call her cell phone, but I suddenly wanted to know where she was.The girl said she was not to be disturbed.I laughed and told her I was her husband. To my annoyance she was adamant. She had her instructions, she said. I really got pissed when I heard myself explain that it was important I'd get her. Here I was begging an office girl to get my wife on the phone, dammit."Okay," I said. "I'll see her at the office during lunchtime. Tell her to wait for me."That was when she told me Betty wasn't at the office, but with a client and would spend lunchtime with him too. No, she could not tell me where. I paused, thinking."Please give me Robert Mancini," I asked."Mr. Mancini isn't in either," she answered.She did not say that there was a link between their absences. But funny enough, there suddenly was one in my brain. My poor paranoia-ridden brain.An hour later it was still there.I had by then tried Betty's cell phone twice, but. These were dark and trying times. But, eventually, as is true of so much in life, I eventually grew accustomed (if that's the right word for it) to being a widow. In the years to come I was busy with the raising of my daughter, and the demands that this naturally put upon me, and I tried really hard to be the best father I could be for her. I'd like to think I didn't do too bad at it.But even in the midst of all that, I was lonely. I didn't date very much. Partly out of a lingering loyalty to my deceased wife, and also partly because I didn't want my daughter to resent another woman coming into our lives, which I was afraid would happen, and so I put my own need for physical intimacy on the back burner, and threw myself into the role of a single parent.This is the way my first encounter with Megan eventually occurred.She was visiting her grandmother, who I lived right next door to, and had done so for some time. Her grandmother was nice to me, though a little bit distant and aloof..
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