The next day, Oliver stayed around the house wondering what he was getting himself into.
On Monday, when he and Jennifer were alone, she blushed and said, "God! That was wonderful, Oliver. But—it will just have to be a lost weekend." She lowered and then raised her eyes. "I feel like I took advantage."
"It was terrible," Oliver said. "There ought to be a law against it."
She threw her arms around his neck and just as quickly stepped back.
She bit her lip.
"I can't get used to you," she whispered.
"I'll be done, Wednesday," Oliver said.
That was that. A month later, he saw her with Rupert at the Maine Mall, on the other side of the Food Court. She looked normally married and involved in what they were doing. Oliver went in a different direction, feeling lonely, remembering how tightly she had held him. He stopped at Deweys. "I got back on," he informed Mark.
"Nice going. Quick work!"
"It was the linen jacket," Oliver said.
"No shit?" Mark was pleased. "There you go. This one's on me."
A few weeks later, Oliver was waiting for a seat in Becky's, standing by the door, when Francesca came in with her two girls. Oliver looked at her and all doubt left him. It was as if they had arranged to meet. "Hi," he said.