Somebody's Baby [antikvár]

One I'm sorry I can't stay.""It's all right.""Ilove you.""I love you, too.""I'll call you tomorrow.""Okay.""I'd better run or I'll miss my train. I really am sorry.""It's all right."He grabbed his briefcase and made for the door. She followed."Call you tomorrow. Okay?""Okay, Mark."He gave her a quick kiss, got the door open and hurried away.She waited until the elevator door slid shut, then stepped back inside and closed and locked her door. Depressed and angry, she looked around the loft wonderingas she did every time this happenedwhy she didn't/wouldn't/couldn't put an end to the affair. It wasn't what she wanted or needed. And even though she obediently parroted the words each time he said I love you, she not only didn't love him, she actively wished either that there was someone she did love, or that she didn't give a damn about men at all.In the shower, washing away the evidence of lovemaking only her body had enjoyed, she considered how she might spend her unexpectedly free evening. There were friends she could call to go to dinner or to take in a movie, even grab last-minute tickets to a Broadway show. But the idea of sitting down to go through her address book and phoning people only added to her depression. Toweling dry, she decided to work. She'd develop today's film and do the contact sheets. That would give her extra time tomorrow to do the printing of the Dunfield and Rubenstein sittings from the week before. With the finished prints ready for collection, she could go ahead and prepare the billings. Good idea. Work was always an answer. Her mood was improving already.