It was beyond incredible what he'd done to her. He'd been cheating on her, and God only knew for how long. The master of noncommitment had been spreading himself around.

She finally saw a cab, and dropped her briefcase to hail it, and the driver got out to help her organize her bags.

Thanks very much, she said distractedly, and got into the taxi.

Where to?

The airport, she said as her voice shook, and she covered her face with her hands.

You all right, miss? He was a nice old guy, and he felt sorry for her. She looked like a little kid running away from home.

I'm fine, she said, her face awash with tears, as they drove back the way she had come less than an hour before, and as she looked down, she saw that she still had the room key in her hand. She dropped it on the seat next to her, and stared out the window, wondering for how long her life with him had been a lie. She tried to think back to all the times he had said he had to come and see the children, and the other times when he had said he needed to be alone and have some space. Looking back on it, she wondered if he had always cheated on her right from the beginning, if this was just a very old game with him, and part of his lifestyle.

They got back to the airport again in twenty minutes, and the driver helped her out of the cab. Where are you going tonight? he asked her gently. He was an old man with a paunch and a bushy mustache. But she was such a pretty girl, and she had cried all the way to the airport. He felt sorry for her, and he wanted to help her.

Back to L.A., she said, fighting to regain her composure, but it seemed hopeless as she reached into her bag for a tissue and blew her nose. I'm sorry’ . I'm really fine, she said apologetically.

Honey, you don't look it. But everything's gonna be okay. You just go on home. Whatever he done, he'll be sorry in the morning, he said, assuming she'd had trouble with a man. But Brandon would never be as sorry as she was that night.

She thanked him and walked into the terminal, only to be told that she had missed the last flight. The last flight for L.A. left at nine o'clock. It was after midnight, and all she could do now was sit in the airport and wait for the first flight the next morning. There wasn't even anyone there to check her bags for her. They suggested she go to the airport hotel, but she didn't even want to do that. She didn't want to go anywhere. She just wanted to sit there. She had a lot to think about, and for a fraction of a second, she thought of calling Jeff. But that didn't seem right either, whining to him after all she'd put him through in New York. She had made him sweat for every one of her kisses, while Brandon was probably getting laid all week. She couldn't help wondering who the girl at the Fairmont had been, but she had been too taken aback to try to look for identification, or her name anywhere. It had been such a cozy scene, with her underwear and her see-through nightgown. Allegra still couldn't believe what she'd seen. She had felt like an intruder, and she was only grateful they hadn't walked in on her. That would have been the last straw. Or worse yet, if she had walked in on them while they were in bed. Just thinking about it made her shudder.

She rented a locker and put her bags in it, so she could get a cup of coffee and not have to drag them around with her. She started to feel calmer after a while, and for a little while she got really angry, but most of the time she felt just plain sad. She thought about calling her mother and telling her, but her mother disliked Brandon so much, she didn't want to give her the satisfaction of telling her he'd been cheating on her all along. Or had he been? There was no way to know now. And she doubted that he'd be honest with her. For the moment, he didn't even know he'd been caught red-handed.

She drank five big cups of black coffee, and stayed up all night, reading magazines, thinking about him, and wandering around. She thought about writing him a letter, and telling him everything she felt, but that didn't seem strong enough. She didn't know what to do. She could have gone back to the Fairmont, or called him to see what he'd say. She could have done a lot of things, but most of all, she just wanted to go home and think about it.

She sat and watched the sun come up, and she started to cry again as she thought of him. And she felt like a madwoman when she got on the first plane at six o'clock. There were a handful of what looked like businessmen, and a couple of families, but it was Saturday and there was hardly anyone on the flight at all.

The stewardess poured her another cup of coffee and gave her a breakfast roll, which she never touched. She felt completely wrung out. She'd been traveling for almost twenty hours by then, and she looked every bit of it when she finally got off the flight. It was seven ten, and once again she got a cab from the airport. This was the third airport she'd seen in less than two days. She lay her head back against the seat, as the taxi drove her home, and at eight o'clock she walked through her front door. She'd been gone for nearly seven days, and she'd half fallen in love with a man three thousand miles away, and found the man she had been devoted to for two years cheating on her. It had been a rough week, particularly since the night before in San Francisco.

She set her briefcase down, and stood looking around. There was a stack of mail on her desk the cleaning lady had left for her, and her answering machine was almost full when she turned it on. There were the usual messages from the dry cleaner about a jacket they couldn't repair, the laundry about the pillowcases they'd lost, a health club that wanted her to enroll, the garage where she bought tires for her car. Her mother had called the night before to see if she wanted to have dinner with them on Sunday night, and Carmen had called to say she was staying at a friend's. She had left a number that Allegra knew she'd heard before, but she didn't quite remember it, and it went by too fast anyway. And then at the very end, Brandon had called. He said he was going to San Francisco to see the girls, they had pled at the trial and ended it early, and the girls really wanted him to come up. He was sure she was tired after a week in New York, and had a lot of catching up to do. And he would see her on Sunday night when he got back. She wondered if he would bother to call her again, or if he thought that covered it. And she wondered too if he thought she might call him.

She had no intention of calling him, or anyone else at the moment. She wanted to be alone, to lick her wounds, and decide what had to be done. She wasn't sure yet how she was going to tell him. But it was pretty straightforward, there was no mystery to what he'd done, and she couldn't imagine continuing the relationship beyond that.

She unpacked and put her clothes away. She made herself some toast, and a cup of tea. She took a shower and washed her hair, and tried to achieve some kind of normalcy, but all the while there was a constant, almost physical ache in her heart. It felt like something she was carrying deep inside her, as though something had broken inside as she looked at Brandon's girlfriend's bra and her see-through nightgown.

She called her parents at ten o'clock that morning, but she was relieved when they weren't there. Sam said they were playing tennis at the club. Allegra told her only that she was fine, and had just gotten back from New York that morning, but she had too much to do to come to dinner on Sunday night.

Tell Mom for me, will you, Sam?

Sure, she said offhandedly, and Allegra immediately worried that her mother wouldn't get the message. Samantha did that sometimes if she had more important things on her mind, like a party, or a boy, or a shopping spree with a girlfriend. Don't forget, will you, please? I don't want her to think I didn't call her back.

Well, listen to Miss Important. Your messages aren't such a big deal, you know, Allie.

Maybe they are to Mom.

Relax, I'll give it to her. How was New York, by the way? Did you buy anything? Yes, a book by a man I met and went ice-skating with. ‘

I didn't have time to do any shopping.

Bummer. That's no fun.

It wasn't really a fun trip. I was working. But there had been more than work involved. How's Mom?

Fine. Why? Sam sounded surprised that Allegra had asked her. It never occurred to her that something might be wrong. At seventeen her entire world was bordered by her own interests, and currently her parents were low on her scores.

Is she okay after not getting the award?

Sure. Sam shrugged. She never said anything. I don't really think she cares, which only proved to Allegra how little Samantha knew their mother. Blaire was a perfectionist, and a high achiever, who worried about every little detail. Allegra was sure that she had agonized about not winning the award, but she was too proud to say it, and, of course, seventeen-year-old Sam was completely unaware of their mother's feelings. This was her senior year, and all she could think about was modeling and shopping, and her excitement over going to college.

Tell her I'll call her when I have time, and send my love to Mom and Dad.

Gaaad ‘ anything else you want me to write down?

Knock it off.

You're in a crabby mood.

I was at the airport all night. Not to mention what had happened with Brandon. And she was in no mood to take any guff from a seventeen-year-old girl.

Sorreee ‘

Good-bye, Sam. She'd had enough by then, and after she hung up, she thought about it for a while, and decided to call Alan. But he was out and there was no answer there.

She would have liked to talk to him about what had happened. He didn't like Brandon particularly, but he was always fair. And eventually, she wanted to talk to him about Jeff too, and see if he thought she was completely insane for the way she was feeling about a relative stranger.