If I Did It Read Online Free PDF

I
didn't. I was still traveling a great deal, mostly to New York, but
whenever I was in town I'd take her out, sometimes alone, and
sometimes with the kids.
From time to time we even ended up in bed together. On
occasion, she cried after we made love. I don't know if she was cry-
ing from being happy or unhappy, to be honest, and I don't think
    she did, either, but I kept hoping it was because she loved me, and
because in her heart she knew that we belonged together.
Still, I wanted to give Nicole her freedom—the freedom she
thought she wanted—so I didn't get pushy about wooing her
back. It was pretty weird, though. Early on, for example, she went
on a couple of dates, and she was a little worried about protocol
because she hadn't really dated anyone since she was a teenager.
“You think the guy's just trying to get into my pants?” she asked
me at one point.
“Honey, what do you expect?” I said “You're gorgeous, you're
smart, you've got your own money, and you don't want more kids.
For most guys, that's an unbeatable combination.”
“So should I go out with him?”
“Yeah. If you like him. Why not?”
“But how do I know if he likes me for me,” she said, “and not
for something else.”
“What? You think he likes you for your car?”
“I'm serious, O.J. This is all new to me.”
She sounded like a teenager, but it struck me that in dating
terms she really was a teenager. “Nicole, stop worrying so much,” I
said. “You're a great girl. Just be yourself and have fun.” I was sitting
there, on the phone, trying to build up her selfesteem, and when I
got off the phone all I could think was, Man, that's my wife! That
was bizarre!
If there is one good thing I can say about the separation, it's
this: We never fought about anything. In fact, during that entire
period we only had one argument, and it was because some of her
friends were racking up charges on my account at the golf club in
Laguna. My assistant, Cathy Randa, spotted the charges and
brought them to my attention, and I immediately called Nicole.
“Who the hell do these people think they are, eating and drinking
at my expense, and why the hell are you allowing it?” Nicole apolo-
gized, promised she'd take care of it, and that was the end of that.
Afterward, we were friendly again—maybe too friendly.
Nicole got into the habit of calling me two or three times a day, to
chat, often about some of the guys she was dating. I thought that
was a little strange—I felt she was treating me almost like a girl-
friend or something—but I didn't mind. I realized that, if nothing
else, I was probably her closest friend, a friend she could talk to
about anything, and it gave me hope. She always began by talking
about the kids—that was the excuse, anyway—and within a
minute or two the conversation shifted to stories about the men in
her life. This one guy was a complete schmuck, this other guy
seemed so nice at first but had turned into a real creep, and so on
and so forth. I would think, Why are you wasting your time with
them? You could still be living with me! But I didn't say it. I didn't
want to push her. I wanted her to know I was there without put-
ting any pressure on her.
Then early in May, while I was back in town for a few days, I
was out at a club with a group of friends and ran into Nicole and a
couple of her girlfriends. I remember thinking it was kind of odd to
see her there: We had been living apart for more than three months,
and this was the first time I'd run into her in public. One of her
girlfriends made a little joke about the situation: "O.J ., are you
    stalking your estranged wife?“ And I smiled and said, ”Yeah, me
and my whole posse.“ We exchanged a few more words, everything
warm and friendly, then went off to enjoy the club with our respec-
tive friends.
Later in the evening, my entourage and I took off for
another club, and I guess Nicole was gone by then, because I didn't
see her. About an hour later, when I left the