On Fridays, I try to leave the bakery earlier so that I can spend some time with Paul. I work so hard during the week, I feel it’s only fair. This week, especially, I’ve been so distant. I’ve barely been at home, and I know he must be worried. I would be if he did the same thing.

When I get home, everything is quiet. It’s not something we agreed we would do but, usually, he’s here early, too.

I walk through the house, putting down my handbag on the kitchen counter, and I open the fridge, looking for something to nibble on. When I don’t find anything, I sigh and close the door again. Turning to food when I feel this lost never works. I don’t know why I insist on eating, or baking, my emotions.

I sit down in front of the television and flip through the channels. We have cable, but there’s never anything to watch. The television is huge, but I’ve become desensitized. Nothing satisfies me anymore in a world where intimacy has fallen away. No material objects can make up for the fact that my husband doesn’t sleep with me.

This was our arrangement, of course. I keep his secret, and he keeps mine. He takes care of me, gives me a home with a lot of money that I can spend wherever I want, and he gets to be who he wants to be without the social condemnation that comes with it. Somewhere deep down inside, I feel like I might have drawn the short straw, but it’s too late to back out now.

At least, I always thought it was. Now that I got the call about our marriage being voided, I don’t know what to think. Just leaving Paul feels wrong. But fucking his brother behind is back is so much worse.

When Paul doesn’t arrive in the next hour, I walk to my bag and fish for my phone. I dial his office number, but it rolls over to voicemail straight away. When I dial his cell, he answers after enough rings that I was prepared to leave him a message.

There’s music in the background, and it’s difficult to hear what he’s saying.

“Where are you?” I ask. “I’ve been home for over an hour.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t check the time. I’m still working.”

Right. It sounds like he’s out on the town, maybe at a bar or a nightclub. I consider insisting that he comes home, but I don’t.

“Are you coming home, tonight?” I ask, instead.

“Probably not, Sky,” he says. “This is important.”

Being social is more important than I am. The thought shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. I nod, even though he can’t see me.

“I won’t wait up, then,” I say, and we end the call. I stare at the screen for a while. I don’t know why I thought that we would have some semblance of a relationship when we got married. I guess in the back of my mind, I figured straight couples hardly ever have sex when they’re married, so it wouldn’t be that much different to be married to a gay man. Maybe Paul is just as asshole.

The moment I think it, I feel guilty. I consider phoning Lizzie, but what am I going to say to her? She knows about the marriage being voided but not about Paul, and I don’t dare tell her. I can’t afford it slipping out. The only person I feel I can trust is Parker.

I know it’s wrong when I dial his number and hold my phone to my ear, but I do it anyway.

He answers almost immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. I wonder how he knew.

“Paul will be out all night, and to be honest, I feel neglected.”

I know I shouldn’t complain about my husband to his brother, but I feel rejected and alone, and I want Parker to make me feel better. He asks me what happened, and I tell him what Paul said and where he was when I phoned him. When I’m done, Parker hesitates before he speaks.

“You don’t think he’s having an affair, too, do you?” he asks.

The word “too” in his sentence bothers me. A lot. And yes, I do think he’s having an affair, with another man. I don’t tell Parker that, though.

“I don’t know,” I say. I don’t add that I don’t really care. I might have if it was one-sided, but with me having fucked Parker, I don’t exactly have a leg to stand on, and lately, I’m starting to wonder if Paul and I are doing nothing more than making each other miserable.

“I know this is a long shot, but can I come over?” Parker asks.

I know what will happen if he comes over. We’re not going to have a glass of wine together and cry about our messed-up love lives. What I have with Parker has gone past conversation, and we won’t be doing much talking at all when he comes. My body tightens at the thought of him all over me in my office, and I’m suddenly out of breath.

“Please,” I say, almost in a whisper.

When we end the call, he promises to be here in just under an hour. It’s enough time for me to get into the shower before he arrives. I want to look my best for him. I feel the way I did when I first met him, that I want to impress him. Is it wrong? Yes. But I’ve lost track of how many things in my life are wrong. I feel like the line between wrong and right has blurred.

I had less time than I thought, and I’m barely out of the shower when Parker is at the gate. I open it for him and have just enough time to run a comb through my wet hair and pull a robe around my naked body. The robe is satin and clings to my skin. I’m smooth after shaving everything but the head on my hair, and even though I know I shouldn’t be doing this, I feel sexy.

When I open the door, Parker stands in front of me. He wears his usual, jeans that are faded in all the right places, a deep gray collared shirt that make his eyes look grayer than blue, and square-toed dress shoes. He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my breasts and the curve of my hips. When he looks at my eyes, he swallows before speaking.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is a little strained.

I smile at him. “Hi.”

He steps into the house and immediately the atmosphere is thick, wrapping around us like a blanket. I close the door behind him.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

I shrug. I’m not sure, to be honest. He was kind to ask, but his eyes are roaming again. I can’t blame him. He’s a man. And it makes me feel hot when he looks at me like that.

“What’s under the robe?” he asks.

I smile at him, teasing. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

His eyes grow darker, hunger filling them up so his pupils dilate and eat away the blue-gray color of the irises, until they’re nothing but a thin line. He hesitates for a second as if he’s trying to practice self-control, before he pulls a face and steps toward me. He grabs my face and kisses me, hard. His tongue pushes into my mouth, entering me, and I sigh, pressing my body against his.

His hands are on my body, one on my neck and one on my breast, and he’s rubbing his thumb in circles over my erect nipple. I gasp into his mouth. Heat washes through me and pools between my legs. I ache for Parker’s body. I want his cock inside of me. I’m wet and horny, and Parker knows just what to do to push me over the edge.

He breaks the kiss and pulls away from me a bit, just enough to grab the tie that holds the robe in place. He tugs at it, undoing the bow I made, and the satin material slips open, exposing my naked body. His eyes are glued to my body.

“God, Skylar.” His eyes go to mine. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I don’t feel like he’s feeding me a line. I trust him completely.

He reaches out to me as if my body is a magnet and he can’t help himself. My nipples, already erect from anticipation and the chill in the room, tighten even more, and I have goosebumps on my skin. When Parker’s fingers brush against my skin, I shiver. He runs his hands over my breasts, over my stomach, under the robe around my back, and pulls me closer. He kisses me again. I can feel how hard he is when he presses up against me, his pants tight around his hips with the strain of his cock. I want that. I can feel the shape of him and taste of him in my mouth.

I want to take him into my mouth and suck him off, but not here. Not in the living room where I spend time relaxing with Paul. I take Parker by the hand and lead him through the house, up the stairs to the main bedroom. I close the door behind me and turn the lights on dim. When I turn to Parker, he looks at me like a predator looks at its prey, like he wants to eat me. I smile at him because it’s exactly what I want, eventually, but right now, it’s going to be the other way around.

I walk toward him, my hips rolling, showing off what I have. When I’m in front of him, I let the robe slip off my shoulders and fall to the floor. I’m naked in front of him, and he’s fully clothed, and I’m not insecure in the least. There’s something about Parker that makes me feel like I am indeed the most beautiful woman in the world.

I fiddle with his buckle, unzip his pants, and kneel before him as I pull his jeans over his hips. I take the underwear with it so that his cock springs free, and he’s hard and eager, his crotch almost the same height as my face. The flesh is thick and the skin smooth, silk over steel, and veins protrude along the hard shaft. I wrap my fingers in a circle around his shaft, and he lets out a burst of air like he’s been holding his breath.

His head is large and smooth, and a drop of precome oozes out the tip when I squeeze my fingers. I slip my lips over his cock, sucking only on the mushroom head. He’s scalding hot, and the smell of his sex is in my nostrils as I push him deeper into my mouth, swirling my tongue along the bottom of him. I cup my other hand over his balls and squeeze lightly. I bob my head back and forth, sucking him into my mouth and using my tongue when I pull him out. When he’s almost all the way out of my mouth, I pay attention to the tip, running my teeth lightly over the edge, flicking my tongue over him, driving him crazy the way he does with me.

Parker groans, his hands in my hair, but he doesn’t push me toward him, forcing himself deeper down my throat. Instead, he pulls back and slips out of my mouth with a suction sound.

“I can’t,” he growls and swallows. “Not without coming.”

I look up at him. He pulls me up so that I’m standing.

“I don’t want to come yet.” He closes his eyes, and it looks like he’s trying to maintain control. He swallows hard. “I want to fuck you.”