Read Online The Daylight Marriage by Heidi Pitlor - Free Book Online

shoulder.
    This soul sickness flared up when he least expected it. But it may have become the thing against which they existed, unbeknownst to him, the thing against which they had to mobilize.
    Of course time and the shelf life of desire soon interfered. One day there was a pinch in his chest, barely detectable, when she gibed him for calling a movie a “film.” A ping when she suggested that he get rid of his old Chuck Taylors and pick up a pair of “big-boy shoes.”
    Soon after, a late-night dinner party at Sophie’s apartment, the second time he had met Sophie but his first introduction to their big but close group of friends, all couples. A photojournalist, a jewelry maker, a teacher in the Bronx, a hospice nurse. Each worked at something unique and noble. All had left academia by now and were thriving. They sat around the long table crowded with nearly empty plates and pots with crusted paella at the bottom, the remainders of eggplant and beet salads, bottles of crianza and reserva. The photojournalist, a handsome biracial guy with hair to his stomach, turned to Lovell and said, “So, Lovell, was it? You’re still in school? Hannah said you’re into weather?”
    â€œActually, climate patterns and storms. Hurricanes mostly. I’m working toward my PhD in atmospheric sciences. At MIT.”
    â€œLike I said.” The guy half smiled. “Hey, you have a favorite storm? One that gets you off when you even think about it?”
    He may have been mocking him, but Lovell did not care. It was theoretically an interesting question. “Lately I’ve been reading up on the Gulf Coast. Coastal Florida, Louisiana, New Orleans. The location of the Mississippi and the warm waters of the Gulf make it a target. Hurricane Betsy, back in ’sixty-five, just clobbered the coast. They called it Billion Dollar Betsy—it was the first hurricane to cause a billion dollars’ worth of damage. It was so bad they took the name Betsy off the list of rotating names for storms. What makes it interesting is that it was really erratic and intense and no one could predict when it would hit, so nobody was prepared. In my department, a group of us are going to try to develop better predictive models, completely new ways to quickly compile the data as it’s coming in from other countries.”
    â€œThis isn’t lecture hall,” Hannah groaned, reaching for a joint that was, Lovell now saw, traveling around the room.
    Sophie’s boyfriend added, laughing, “Isn’t Hurricane Betsy’s some strip club down in Hyannis?”

Chapter 7
    N ine days after Hannah’s disappearance, Duncan called to tell Lovell that her wallet had been found on Carson. “No cash or credit cards, but her license was there,” the detective said. “We’ve got a team on their way. I’d go ahead and cancel her credit cards.”
    Lovell dropped the briefcase he was holding on the kitchen floor. “Will do.” He tried to make sense of it. She had lost her bracelet. Someone had taken her money. Someone had robbed her? But she was safe—she had to be, because the alternative? There was no alternative. Of course she was safe. Maybe she took the money and credit cards herself, left her license, decided to, what, assume another identity? He had a hard time picturing it. Still, there had to be some reason behind all of this.
    Lovell decided to call Sophie. She was the last person Hannah had spoken to from home on the morning of her disappearance, according to the record on their phone.
    A few days before Hannah had disappeared, there was talk of meeting up with Sophie and her husband that weekend, a barbed joke about Lovell being weirdly awkward in her presence. He could not help that Sophie intimidated him. “You have a crush on her,” Hannah had said. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I’ve always had a thing for your old college roommate,” he tried,