“Did you fuck her?” I whispered.
He stood at the other end of the room, my husband, with his back to me. Slowly, he turned, eyes finding me in our bed.
“You want to fight? Is that what you want?” he accused, denying nothing.
“Why can’t you just answer the question?”
“No, I’m not fucking cheating on you, Samantha. God, why does your mind always go there? Why-”
“Because there always seems to be something that comes up to make me question you.”
“You’re projecting.” Eric pointed his finger at me. I fucking hated that. “Maybe I should look through your phone.”
“Go ahead,” I urged, “I’m not hiding anything. But if you're not, I don't know why you're making this so fucking difficult," I growled.
“I’m not going to talk to you if you’re just going to shout.”
“That wasn't shouting.” Now my voice rose.
“I’m not going to-”
“If you’re innocent,” I interjected, “why did you snatch your phone when I picked it up? You say you have nothing to hide, but I saw a text, I saw her name, and now you’re being defensive.”
“I’m defensive because I have nothing to hide, and you’re constantly questioning me, and it’s driving me fucking nuts! You try being an innocent man on trial. I can’t be in this fucking relationship if you’re going to control me.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” I assured, wanting to ease his mind. “I’m just worried, that’s all. Worried I’m not enough for you.” I looked down at my hands resting on the sheet tucked beneath my arms. Every step Eric took toward me eased the pain.
“You are all I want, Samantha,” Eric mumbled, pulling up my chin and giving me a kiss sweeter than usual. “Please trust me.”
___
The next morning, I ran. Music blocked out the world so I could focus. My goal was to focus on nothing, but of course, my mind wandered. It wandered to the sex Eric and I had last night. How I wanted to enjoy it, my doubts rendering me unable. It wandered to James as it had so often during the nine days since I’d met him. His killer smile and smoldering eyes, his tongue in that frosting…
When he appeared, tall and fit and suddenly jogging right beside me, I almost didn't believe it, wondering if my imagination was stepping up its game. I tried to ignore him. Fire and pumpkin colored leaves trickled down every other tree as we passed, the chill in the air cooling us as we ran.
I finally spoke; “Why are you following me, James?”
“I live fairly close, you know. I wasn’t sure I’d actually see you on this trail. But I did hope,” he confessed, glancing at me when my head finally turned.
“Did you make friends with George just to get close to me?” I demanded, slowing to a stop. Deep in the trees, I didn’t see anyone around.
“That’s ridiculous.” He was so calm.
“Is it?”
“I didn’t know he was your son until he took me to your house.”
"So you're staying friends with him to pester me?”
James’ smile darkened. “Interesting word choice.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
“Because you like when I ‘pester’ you.”
“Excuse me?"
“You. Like. It,” he repeated, pacing his words deliberately. Mockingly.
Many retorts came to mind, my lips twitching to voice several. “Excuse me?” I reiterated; all I was able to manage.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
I scoffed. “Alright, that’s enough-”
“You’re bored out of your fucking mind, and it makes you want to fool around with me.” His conviction weighed my jaw to the ground. James took a step toward me.
“That’s not true.” I took a step back.
“Oh?” he challenged. “So you're never lonely in that big house? You enjoy serving cookies to superficial assholes all day? Dressing in tight clothes and heels to get the attention your husband doesn’t give you?”
I’d heard enough. Turning to leave, James grabbed my arm before I could, yanking me back. My head in his rough grasp; our mouths pressed together. I registered how warm his lips were, how incredible he smelled and felt, and then pushed him off of me.
“What is wrong with you?!” I spat before promptly running away.
He didn’t follow.
___
Eric’s bags were already packed when we got home; loaded in his truck for his next work trip. He was able to stay just long enough to watch George win his game before taking us home and hugging us goodbye, giving me a few extra kisses.
Watching his headlights back out of the driveway, the house felt lonely, George already gone to a post-game celebration. Without any buffers around to distract me, I had to face what happened that morning during my run.
What the fuck was wrong with me? Denial of attraction can only go so far until evidence on the contrary appears in the dampness of my panties. What we were doing was completely inappropriate. I couldn’t be attracted to him; teenagers didn’t interest me. Why James? I was a woman with the world in her hands, and I was actively crushing it every time he snuck into my head. I was going to need to be better, more assertive if he tried anything again.
___
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Is this what the end of my rope looked like? It had been fourteen hours and James’ mouth against mine was all I could think about. I wasn’t about to endure this nonsense any longer, waiting for someone to figure us out. He was just going to have to tell George he couldn't come over anymore for some entirely unrelated reason.
I hit Send on my phone, and grabbed my coat.
At 11:00 p.m. sharp James walked into my store as invited. The closed sign was flipped, all the curtains drawn, but I left the door unlocked for him. And here he was; tall, dark, and pensive as ever.