I suddenly remember the audio recording from last night. As much as I am enamored by Simon, I sincerely hope it hurt him to listen to me getting a nice revenge fuck in with my husband. I check my phone to see if he replied, but he hasn’t yet. I suppose he may have not had the pleasure of listening yet; it’s still early. I glance over to the nosey bitch of a neighbor living next to Simon and Abbey. Thank Jesus Christ I saw her gawking at me while I carried the wine to Simon the other day. I knew she would tell Abbey. Part of me didn’t give a shit and wanted her to find out. The other part knew, for Simon’s sake, that I needed to cover my tracks. She clearly believed the text I sent and Simon must have put on a good show when she confronted him.
What would Abbey think now that it isn’t just wine that Simon and I shared? How would she feel if she knew we also shared the most intimate part of him?
Sorry, Abs.
Chapter Sixteen
Simon
“Thank you for this.” Abbey seems genuinely happy about my surprise getaway idea. She doesn't know that I planned none of this. The dinner party at Mara and James’s house felt like a fucking circus, and Mara was the ringleader. Did I stare at her too long? Did Abbey notice the wink Mara gave me from across the dinner table? Did anyone see Mara and I, alone in the kitchen for just a moment, when she whispered something dirty in my ear? It's like she was trying to get caught. I wanted to run away and never come back before the bottom fell out from under me. A night away from our house, that street, those neighbors will have to do.
I set the GPS to get us to the hotel and reach over and take Abbey's hand. She smiles softly in return. She's so relaxed, so content, and it looks nice on her. Watching Mara's house fade away in the rear-view feels like a good start.
We're quiet as I drive. When you're comfortable with someone the silence isn't awkward, but it does leave a lot of room for your mind to wander. I wonder if we simply don't have anything to talk about anymore, if there's nothing we don't already know about each other, but that's not true. Abbey doesn't know I'm a cheating loser. Seeing her so secure in this moment only intensifies the guilt I'm trying to run away from. I wish I could take a pickaxe to the part of my brain that's so fixated on Mara and blast it away until it's nothing but shards that can be swept under the rug. This hasn't happened before, this type of inherent obsession. There have been others, just a couple, but none like Mara. I've had unnecessary lunches with female clients and coworkers. I'd flirt with them over the food that we used as an excuse to be together. There was some texting, even sexting, but nothing physical. I've never taken things this far because none of them were worth it. I barely saw them, really. It was just for the rush of it, just for a breath of fresh air and that feeling of newness and excitement that you get at the beginning of a relationship. I craved that feeling so much. With Mara, it's like that feeling on steroids. A euphoria that no one could counter. Even Abbey has felt it. I know this because I've seen how she acts around Mara and how she can't stop smiling after being close to her. The thought of having both my wife and my neighbor together at the same time bursts into my head uninvited and I have to shove it out viciously.
“Ouch, Simon! What the hell?” Abbey screeches, ripping her hand from mine. “That hurt.”
I have to swerve to miss a car I almost drifted into and realize I had unconsciously been squeezing her hand so hard that I left marks. I can feel her staring at me, waiting for an explanation as I try to steady my heartbeat.
“I'm so sorry.” Is all I can muster.
“What was that? What were you thinking about?” She sounds worried, but not accusatory. Good.
“Just you, babe. I was thinking of you and me rolling around in the hotel bed, ordering room service, and eating fruit naked.” I turn on my charming grin and give her “the look”. She smiles back, satisfied that my answer is all about her.
~
We head up to our hotel room after checking in, and I've surprised myself at how nice of a hotel we ended up with after basically picking the first one I found with an availability. I'm sure Abbey thinks I've put a lot of thought into this, which spikes the guilt, then I remember that I also booked her a massage last minute. I need a little bit of time by myself to take care of something.
“You’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes, Mrs. Paulson.” I pull her in close to me, letting our room door slam behind us.
“An appointment for what?” She's confused, but thrilled. I plant a kiss on her mouth.
“I booked you a nice, long massage. You deserve it. Work has been so stressful for you lately that you're seeing things, Abs.” I don't have to fake concern, because even though I told her I didn't, I saw the man outside last night too. Abbey sighs and now she won't even look at me.
“I'm sorry,” I continue, lifting her chin. “I don't mean to put a damper on our day. I just want you nice and relaxed so you can have fun. Let go of everything that's been weighing you down so we can fully enjoy each other's company.”
I run my hands down her sides and she softens. Perfect. I need her to get this massage.
“Okay. If you say so.”
“I insist. I'd get one with you, but they only had an opening for one this morning,” I lie. “Now go. The spa's downstairs and I'll meet you back here after.” She's taking my assertiveness as caring.
I'm so relieved to have her go that I barely even notice her leave. I'm just planning my next move, thinking about where I can go to get my fix. I pace the hotel room for a moment, my mind racing. I remember that my phone dinged with a message from Mara in the middle of the night, but I ignored it and went back to sleep. I open it now and realize it's a voice recording. I glance around, not exactly sure who I'm expecting to see in the empty room, but I've made myself on edge and butterflies creep into my stomach before I hit play.
It's muffled at first, but I turn the volume up and instantly recognize her moans. What is this, Mara? Then I hear another noise, the sound of a man. Did she record us yesterday? I feel nothing but dread as the moans continue on, wondering if this was meant to be some sort of blackmail or worse. But then I hear the man say, “Yeah, baby. Just like that.”
That's definitely not me. The moans grow louder and turn into screams; my face is getting hotter and I know what Mara's trying to do to me. It's her and James having sex, and she's trying to make me jealous.
I lock my screen and toss the phone onto the coffee table, where it lands with a thud and slides onto the carpet. I don't know if I'm more pissed that she's going to these lengths, or that it's actually working. What kind of person records herself having sex with her partner and sends it to the guy she’s cheating on them with? What else is she capable of?
Either way, getting her off my mind is going to be much harder now. I have to go before Abbey comes back.
~
The department store is crowded because it's Saturday, and I have to snake around the hordes of people to find the part of the store I'm searching for. It feels like everyone’s staring at me as if they know my secret, like “LYING CHEATER” is written on my forehead in Mara's red lipstick.
I reach a counter and start scanning the bottles, but none of them look familiar. I'm sweating now. This is stupid and doing this is going to help precisely nothing. Just before I turn to leave, a sales woman rings out, “Can I help you find something, honey?”
Her name tag says “Valerie” and she reminds me of my mother. Short brown hair, a welcoming smile, and a twinkle in her eye. She's expecting an answer, but I'm frozen.
“Sir? Are you shopping for someone special?” She assumes I'm shopping for my wife. Christ, Simon, this is ridiculous. I inadvertently let out a chuckle at that one, and I realize I must seem like an unhinged lunatic to her. I sigh and rub the sweat off the back of my neck before slapping my hands down on the counter, leaving wet finger streaks on the glass. Get your shit together.
“Actually, yeah. I'm looking for some perfume.”
I spit the words out and hope for the best.
/> “Anything in particular you have in mind? We have plenty of testers and samples, if you know which scents you li—”
“Black Opium,” I cut poor Valerie off, “I need Black Opium.”
~
I'm euphoric as I rush into our hotel room, like a child on Christmas morning. I go in the bathroom with my bag and lock the door behind me in case Abbey comes back early. I'm so glad I did this. I tear open the box and push it to the bottom of the trash can. I cradle the black perfume bottle carefully for a moment, as if it were a fucking newborn baby, then spray a tiny bit into a washcloth. Inhale. A rush, exhilaration, a bulge in my pants. It's her. If I can't have Mara the way I want, I can settle for this. This will do for now.
~
The rest of the day with Abbey goes swimmingly. She's relaxed, like putty in my hands, and I'm the happiest I've been in months. I take her shopping. She's getting a tad more adventurous there, I notice, trying on and buying the types of things I've never even seen her look at. We have lunch on the water, and dinner at James’s restaurant, her idea. If we could do this more often, if I can use my little tricks to keep Mara at arm's length, this just might work. I could rescue the marriage that my wife doesn't even know was so close to falling apart. I've just got to keep the plates spinning, keep the ball in my court, and my dick in my pants. Probably easier said than done with Mara not around, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Besides, I have my perfume and I have my imagination. I can make it up to Abbey if I really try, I can
I rest my head on Abbey's shoulder on the elevator ride up to the room. The caretaker in her loves this shit. Besides, I've felt just about every single emotion on the human spectrum today, and I'm fucking exhausted. Secrets and lies take a lot out of a man.
Chapter Seventeen
Abbey
When we get back to our room for the night, I tell Simon the best part of the evening hasn’t even happened yet. He looks in my eyes, hungrily, and bites his bottom lip. He kisses me and tries to start in but I stop him and tell him I have to freshen up first.
I’m putting an insane amount of pressure on myself to perform. I shower, making sure to clean every inch of my body extra well. I shave away any stray hairs leftover from my wax yesterday and inspect myself thoroughly. I lather, rinse, and repeat until my fingertips are comparable to prunes.
After I dry off I spend time drying my hair and rubbing a honey and fig body soufflé all over my body. I’m going to be the freshest, best smelling thing Simon has ever screwed.
When I exit the bathroom wearing nothing but an open robe, the sexy mood I’ve gotten myself into is extinguished when I see a sleeping Simon sprawled out across the bed. I know I took longer than I usually do, but my lord. You think the man could stay awake to fuck his wife.
My frustration is lifted as I remember what a perfect evening Simon planned for us. I need to learn to be more grateful for my husband. Plus, he’s the one that should be mad he’s missing out on all of this.
I change into my pajamas and lay down next to Simon. I look at him sleeping and I think he’s dreaming; I hope only good things are dancing around in his mind. This used to be my favorite thing to do, stare at him while he slept. Not in a creepy way. I’ve always just had an immense amount of love for this man.
I remember a time not long after we first got together when I had stayed awake most of the night just watching him sleep. I was in disbelief such a perfect man was mine. We had spent the night together in his college dorm room. Simon kicked his roommate out for the night, bribing him with a large pepperoni pizza and a case of Coors Light. I slept in a bit the next morning after being awake so much during the night and I woke up to the smoke detector going off. Simon was trying to cook me breakfast on the griddle—I’m not even sure if those were allowed in the dorms but he wanted to impress me—and wasn’t paying attention to the food, which burned to a crisp. The smoke detector went off causing a mass panic and everyone in the dorm had to evacuate over blackened French toast.
I smile to myself in the dark thinking about how much easier things were then. How is it possible that after years of dating and being married that I feel so insecure and unsure of our future? Simon has been so quick to respond to any of my accusations but my mind continues to send out warning signals. I love Simon. He’s my other half, and I never thought I needed someone to complete me until he came along and turned my entire world upside down. I don’t think I could imagine my life without him next to me.
I want to believe with my entire heart the connection between Mara and Simon is innocent. I want to know with one hundred percent certainty my husband wants me and only me. Mara wouldn’t do that to me, I think. She isn’t the same girl she once was.
I want to focus on the here and now. My husband is with me. He asked me out on this extravagant date night in the city. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love me and want me. I slowly drift to sleep and dream on and off throughout the night, mini flashbacks of the life Simon and I have shared. I dream of our engagement, when Simon asked me to be his wife on my graduation night. He filled my apartment with red roses and lit tiny tea light candles. I was pissed at him for spending so much on a bunch of flowers that would only die but he said he couldn’t imagine asking me to marry him any other way. I dream of the night Simon scored his first big investment banking job, and the passionate love making session that ensued. My god that was a good night. I take my eyes away from Simon, closing them tight, thinking about how he touched me like I was the only woman in the world.
I bring my hand down and into my panties, rubbing slowly, and I replay that night in my mind until I’m sleeping.
I continue to dream tiny dreams of our lives together and it’s the first morning in a long time I wake up not drenched in sweat from my nightmares.
~
I lie awake in bed the next morning for hours, flipping mindlessly through the television stations. It feels so good to relax, to not get up and immediately start doing five hundred things. I like only being in my mind for a change, not the minds of everyone else I work for.
Simon rolls over to face me and starts working on opening his eyes, throwing an arm over me and pulling me into his warm body.
“Sorry, Abs. I passed out. I tried staying awake, I’ve just been so tired lately.” Simon looks off but it may just be him trying to wake up. I tell him everything’s fine and thank him again for whisking me away from life for the night. His eyes look back at my own and then travel down to my ring finger. He spins my rings for a few moments, running his other hand up and down my thigh while he does. When he looks at me again, I am taken aback. Simon has tears in his eyes. “Simon, what is it?” I ask, not sure if I want to know what he’s about to tell me.
“Nothing at all, Abs. I just love you so much. Sometimes I forget how much you’ve done for me, how far we’ve come. Moments like this, lying in bed with you doing nothing, they help bring me back to just us. I want you to know that I really do love you.” Simon brings his lips to mine and kisses me lightly. My gut feels off, like Simon’s tears stem from something else. I remind myself the promise I made last night while watching him sleep. I’m going to focus on the here and now. I sometimes think being a psychiatrist is a curse, thinking too much into things can be detrimental.
Simon and I lay in the hotel room bed, overlooking the river, for what seems like forever. I wish we never had to leave because in this moment it feels like we have our connection back. I want time to stop so I can keep this version of us forever. I want to stay like this, tangled up in hotel sheets with him because right now I feel safe and secure. It’s like the two of us have fled our normal lives and we’re on the run, holed up here in this room with only the love we have for each other keeping us going.
Chapter Eighteen
Anonymous
I know a way to get closer to you.
I’ve decided to install cameras in the places you are most. I’ll put one in your kitchen, your bathroom, your office, even your bedroom. It
might be hard for me to watch footage from your bedroom but it’ll have to be the price I pay to get closer, to see all forms of your life.
I wait until you’re both gone and I slip in through the window. This is such a rookie mistake you’ve made. Haven’t you seen any of the serial killer documentaries? It’s okay, though, it makes things so much easier for me.
I start off in the most important room, just in case I have to make a quick exit. I search for the best place to hide a camera in your bathroom. I bought tiny cameras on Amazon, the marketing label says they’re smaller than a half dollar, and they don’t disappoint. You have a disgustingly huge shower head. It isn’t removable, which is perfect. I place the camera to the left side of the head, part of it is covered by the hardware but the eye is just barely visible. It’s like you walked right into this one, how perfect for me.
I don’t have time to look around. I’m worried you’ll return home soon and we can’t have that happening.
I head to your bedroom and install another tiny hidden camera above your mirror. It rests on the wall and there’s no way you’ll see this one. I’m even less worried about this one than the bathroom camera.
My cell phone rings in my pocket and I jump. I am incredibly on edge. I silence it and curse the caller.
Next, I make my way to your office and the kitchen and find the best possible spots to place the hardware. I’m pleased with how this went.
I desperately want to open your fridge, look in your laundry, and see your soaps and lotions. I have an endless list of the things I want to know about you, what I want to do to you. I know there will come a time that I will know and do these things but for now I have to get out of here.
I return to my house and finish setting up the software that came with the hidden cameras. Everything went according to plan. I can see you no matter where you are in each room. I have a fantastic view of the shower, toilet, and vanity. I’ll be able to see all steps of your routine. The camera is in the perfect location to catch any position you’re in on your bed. I am so ungodly happy right now. I’m almost as happy as you make me regularly. Some might call me sick and twisted, maybe a touch perverted. I’m well aware of any adjective that can be used to describe my lust for you. I don’t care, either.
Those We Trust Page 10
