Now
Jude
I’m resting on the couch when the doorbell rings.
My eyes pop open in the dark, because who is coming at this hour?
Michel, I decide as I head to the door. Artie isn’t even growling.
But it’s not my brother standing on the porch with a take-out bag.
It’s Zoe.
She’s dressed in a tiny miniskirt and a low-cut peasant blouse, and her eye makeup is painted on thick. She smiles.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says almost shyly. “But I wanted to make sure you ate dinner.”
I hesitate, and she notices.
“Jude,” she says softly. “Your wife isn’t home yet, right? You shouldn’t be sitting around in the dark alone.” She glances over my shoulder into the dark house. “You don’t even have a light turned on.”
She pushes past me, and I allow it, for whatever reason, I don’t even know.
“Come on,” she calls over her shoulder, inviting me into my own home. “I hope you like Chinese.”
“I do,” I tell her, watching her arrange it on the table. She opens the kitchen cabinets, hunting for dishes, as though she belongs here. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“I know,” she tells me, sitting down at the table. Incidentally, she’s sitting in Corinne’s chair. I swallow hard and take a seat. I’ve got to get out of this. I’ve got to get out of this. I’ve got to get out of this.
Her perfume is cloying and cheap, and it fills the kitchen with the scent. It emphasizes the fact that this is wrong. Corinne’s scent is soft and refined, understated. She and Zoe are as different as night and day.
“Jude?”
Zoe lifts an eyebrow, and her hand is frozen in the air, a spoonful of beef broccoli dripping into the white container.
“I’m sorry. Yes?”
“How much do you want, love?”
Love. I’m not her love. A heaviness settles in my gut, and I blink, then shake my head. “Not much. I’m not hungry.”
She ignores that and heaps a plate with rice and beef and slides it to me. “Trust me, you’re going to need your strength.” She winks, and my heart pumps hard harder harder.
I’ve got to get out of this.
I take a bite, and it’s good, and I find myself eating the entire plate because I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
“You didn’t come to the diner today,” Zoe comments as she chews. “Why?”
“I was running late,” I lie. I picked up breakfast at McDonald’s instead.
She nods. “Your schedule must be all turned around, you poor thing.”
She’s sympathetic and I’m a liar. I don’t say anything. Instead, I clear away the dishes, and she comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She feels foreign to me, not like Corinne. Her arms are too tight, her body too short.
“I’m here for you, you know,” she murmurs into my back, and I stand tightly wound at the sink.
“I know.”
I’m just trying to figure out what to say to her when she speaks.
“I’ll be right back. I’ve gotta use the powder room.”
I nod and she’s gone, and I let Artie out while I wait. I watch the dog disappear into the darkness, and I take a seat in an armchair in the living room. I purposely don’t sit on the couch so that there’s no room to sit next to me.
It’s quite a few more minutes until Zoe shows up in the living room door, and when she does, I startle.
She’s wearing one of my shirts. A button-up that Corinne likes to wear from time to time.
“Hey,” Zoe says softly, and the bottom of the shirt reaches her knees. It reached only midthigh on Corinne. “I hope you don’t mind. This was lying in your bedroom. I thought I’d get more comfortable.”
“Uh...” I don’t even know what to say.
“I like making you speechless,” she practically purrs, crossing the living room toward me. I start to get up, but she pushes me back in my seat and straddles my lap.
Her hands are on my shoulders, her breath on my neck.
“I want you so much,” she breathes against my skin. “I’ve always wanted you, Jude.”
My own breath hitches, and my heart races because this isn’t good.
“Zoe,” I begin, and my hands are on her arms, and her crotch is grazing my own. She’s not wearing panties, and she leaves a damp spot on my pants.
Jesus.
“Yes?” her voice is sweet and sinful at once, and she slides her hand on my chest.
“I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Her answer is immediate. “We’re the only two people who will ever know, Jude. You can.”
It’s true. We are the only ones who would ever know.
The house is quiet but for Zoe’s whispers, and the night is dark outside. We’re alone.
Her arm snakes behind my head, pulling my face toward hers, and for a scant second, I almost let it happen. I almost do the easy thing and kiss her.
But...
I can’t.
I pull away.
“I can’t, Zoe.”
Her head snaps back, and a flush stains her cheeks. “Why not?” she demands. “I know you want me. Here’s proof.”
Her hand cups my dick, and it is hard, but it’s a physical reaction. My penis doesn’t have rational thought.
“Zoe,” I begin again, but the doorbell rings, and it interrupts any thought I might’ve had because it means one terrible thing.
We’re not alone anymore, and there is a clear view of my living room from the porch.
I push Zoe back, and her feathers are ruffled, but she steps to the side, and the door opens before I can think of what to do.
Michel stands before me, looking from Zoe to me. He examines her lack of clothing, and the fact that she’s wearing one of my shirts, and the look on his face is one of utter and complete disappointment. I see it in his eyes, I see it in the grim way his mouth is set... I know that expression. It’s exactly like my own.
“I’d ask what’s going on, but it’s obvious,” he says gruffly. “Jesus, Jude.” He turns to Zoe. “Go get your clothes on, Zoe. I’ll take you home.”
“My car is here,” she says, and the flush is deeper on her cheeks and has spread to her chest. She’s embarrassed and looks to me. I nod. She scurries away down the hall, into what I assume is my bedroom.
Michel looks at me. “We talked about this last week,” he says pointedly. “You said you were going to take care of it. What the hell, man?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” I tell him limply. “She went to the bathroom and came back with her clothes off. I haven’t done anything.”
“She shouldn’t even be here,” he snaps. “Your wife is in the hospital, or have you forgotten?”
“Of course I haven’t,” I snap back. “You don’t understand the situation. I wasn’t doing anything. I just hadn’t figured out how to end it.”
“It’s not that hard,” he tells me. “You say, This is over. It’s pretty simple.”
“It’s not that simple,” I answer.
The sound of a throat clearing snaps our heads up, and Zoe is back on the periphery of the room.
“I’m ready,” she says quietly.
Michel looks at her grimly. “Would you mind following me back to the church? I’d like to talk to you for a while, if you don’t mind.”
“I really should go home,” she says hesitantly. “I have work early in the morning.”
“I won’t keep you long,” Michel says firmly. She nods reluctantly and steps past me, pausing.
“Call me later?”
I’m silent because Michel is staring me down.
Zoe sighs and walks to the door.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she calls over her shoulder.
The door closes behind them, and I watch their taillights disappear down the road.
Within seconds, I receive a text from Zoe.
You aren’t going to listen to him, are you?
I stare at the words, and the letters bleed into each other.
Jude? Are you?
You’ll always regret it if you do.
I’ll make you regret it.
Her words are sobering because I know she means them.
Artie scratches at the back door, and I lay my phone down and go let her in. She’s dirty, her muzzle covered in mud, and I sigh. This is the last thing I need.
“What the hell, girl?” I shake my head and she walks in, after dropping something onto the patio. Bending, I examine what she’s dragged up here, and I stiffen up, my feet frozen on the floor.
An address stares up at me from a plaque, 131 All Hallows Lane, in muddy bronze letters.