The Affair (The Relationship Quo Series Book 5)

by Nicole Strycharz

  Not me, I was holding back an inappropriate giggle.

  “I mean…” she unzipped her Bible. “You know… it’s uh… cold.”

  The Reverend’s wife, unamused, pushed her glasses up her nose and continued reading out loud.

  “Have you gone through your collection of naughty underwear yet?” she asked me in a whisper. Sitting so close and on the complete opposite side as Hammond’s wife, she seemed quiet enough.

  “Um, Noah and I haven’t really been intimate since I got those things. I was sick and then…” I hesitated. “It’s top secret but… I’m pregnant.”

  She made a giant “O” with her mouth. “Congratulations!” She grabbed my knee and grinned at me. “Good for you!”

  I blushed, sitting back to listen to Mrs. Hammond.

  “By the way,” Sara whispered again. “If you like book two, wait until you read book three. Whatever you do, do not read McAdam books while multitasking.”

  “How did you know?” I slowly shut my book to hide it behind my Bible.

  “I’m only her biggest fan ever. She once answered my message on Facebook. I’m in her reader’s group. Southwind’s Coffee. I also won an eggplant from one of her giveaways.”

  “An eggplant?” I cocked a brow.

  “Yeah, an egg— you know, like… because…” she pointed her eyes at my groin. “It’s like a metaphor for a guy’s—"

  I sniggered, making Mrs. Hammond flick her disapproving gaze at us. We both quietly looked down at our Bibles.

  LORENZO

  “Ruby,” I called as I walked into our place. “Eh!” I took off my coat and set the mail I just collected on the counter. “Baby, did you call the tile guy?”

  When I heard no answer, I surmised that she was out. Our place is too small not to hear my bellowing and there was no steam on the hall mirror, meaning she wasn’t in the shower.

  I sifted through the mail I just brought in, hearing the chimes of her phone. I looked up in the direction of the hall and stayed still. “Ruby?”

  With no reply coming, I frowned, walking toward the bedroom.

  Her phone was on the floor near our bed skirt, and I realized it fell and she forgot it. It was chiming from the last message.

  It was from Noah, and it was his and Lydia’s address.

  My stomach hitched with a bad feeling. I tried entering her passcode to read the full conversation, but she changed it since our argument. I tried three other codes and the fourth one worked. I went back to their conversation where it started this morning.

  “Lydia has Woman’s Bible study, if you get here by one, we will have a full hour while I’m on break.” Noah’s text was hard to read at first, but my gut was outweighed by concern.

  “I can make it. I’m off today. What time does she get out of her study?” asked Ruby.

  “It begins at 1 and ends at 2:30, so we have plenty of time, just be safe.” Noah’s message made me swear out loud because I knew his wife’s schedule better than he did.

  Lydia’s Bible study was usually from one to two-thirty, but the Reverend’s wife is scheduled for two fillings at the dentist, and so she said she was cutting the Bible study short. It would end at one-thirty, only a half hour long so she could get to her appointment.

  “Shit!” I searched my pockets for my cell phone. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  LYDIA

  I smiled to myself as I walked up to my door. Being pregnant makes everything more exciting. Especially holidays. With Thanksgiving gone, it was time to plan the decorating of Christmas, but knowing there was a baby coming, made it more special.

  I shoved my key in the lock but then paused to look up at the roof. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I wondered if we should get one of those Santa in a sled fixtures and mount it up there. It would look cool.

  I unlocked the door and pushed my way in.

  Coming down the foyer, I screamed a little when I saw Noah slam the pantry door shut in our kitchen. Our hall is so short that I can see his jerky movements.

  “What are you doing here in the middle of the day?” I asked, holding my chest. The scream had my throat raw.

  He was out of breath and his shirt was half tucked in. “I decided to have lunch here,” he put his hands on his hips and tried to catch his breath discreetly. “I thought you would be here, but then I remembered you had Bible study. I was going to surprise you. I can’t believe I forgot. In fact,” he pushed his hand through his hair. “I thought… if you have study, how are you home? God, you scared me too.”

  I came further in, laying my Bible down and putting my coat up. “Well, Mrs. Hammond is getting fillings, and you know how she is about skipping anything ever,” I rolled my eyes. “But, the upside, is now I’m here, and you’re here,” I bounced on the balls of my feet. “And… I was thinking, maybe we should decorate for Christmas early. Usually, we wait until the second week of December, but I feel Christmasy now. Think about it,” I lifted one of my brows. “By this time next Christmas, we’ll have this little bitty nugget!” I held my stomach and he started to look more relaxed.

  “Yeah, you will,” he pressed his lips together and then looked around the room like he was waiting for something.

  “We will,” I said.

  He came back to me and focused. “That’s right,” he came and held me. The relief I found in his embrace was short-lived, as a familiar scent filled my nose. It was all over him.

  His shirt.

  I know he went to her on Thanksgiving. I wondered if it was a fluke. His dad put pressure on him, and before that he wasn’t meeting Ruby.

  This smell alerted me that I was wrong, it wasn’t a fluke. He was still seeing her.

  “Why don’t we go out for lunch,” he suggested, cutting our hug short.

  I felt dazed but tried to stay in the moment. “No need, I’ll make something. I have taco stuff in the pantry.” I went around him, but he stepped in my way.

  “I don’t want you to work. You’re pregnant, let other people make the food,” he massaged my shoulders, still out of breath.

  “I’m fine— why are you so winded?”

  “I’m not, I’m just hyper from too much coffee.”

  “Let me cook, I don’t mind,” I tried going around him again, but he blocked my way and took forever to explain. My cell rang in my purse where it was by my Bible.

  “Hold on,” I laughed at him and his high energy. I went to my purse and dug out my cell. Lorenzo was calling me. I ignored the call. “Just Sara from Church,” I lied. “Now, if you don’t want tacos, what about subs? I have the stuff to make them.” My eye caught on a shoe that was peeking out on the other side of the island. It was a sleek high-heel. I made myself not stare at it, but it took me no time at all to conclude that I own no heels and that this house suddenly feels like it has eyes and ears.

  My refrigerator seems to be pointing at Noah.

  My dining table is holding its mouth shut.

  My dishwasher is looking at the pantry, the way Noah keeps doing.

  My sink is staring at me, waiting to see if I get the punch line… that I am the joke.

  My phone rings again and it’s Lorenzo. The macho man of so few words is calling me twice in a row?

  “I…” I pick up my cell. “I better get this.”

  Noah smiles tersely, then waits, watching me as though I’m a walking grenade.

  “Hello?” I say pressing the phone close to my ear and carefully lowering the volume with my finger.

  “Lydia,” Lorenzo sounds gruff.

  “Yes, hi, Sara,” I forced myself to sound light and happy.

  “You’re home, then?”

  “I am.”

  “You need to leave.”

  My hand starts to shake, and I turn my back to Noah to hide it as my emotions begin overwhelming me. “Why is that?” I ask, but deep down, I already know, and I feel stupid. So horribly stupid.

  “Because Ruby is in the house,” Lorenzo added just above a whisper.

  I nod, as
though he can see me. “Oh,” I stood there, not sure what to do. I could feel her. Ruby’s essence was all over my house, seeping from the walls. My walls. “I’m not… sure… how to do that… what you said.” I made myself swallow so I wouldn’t drown myself.

  Lorenzo’s voice is ever steady, the unphased warrior of heartbreak. “Say that you left your notes for the study, go get your coat, and your purse, and just walk out.”

  I play with the necklace at my throat as I memorize his words. “Right.” I cleared my throat. “And then…”

  “Then get in your car and come to the restaurant.”

  I nod again. “Thank you so much, Sara, I can’t thank you enough for grabbing them. I’ll meet you where you said.”

  I hung up and took a deep breath, facing Noah, making a point not to look at the pantry where I know she is. “I left my study notes,” I laughed, and it was strained. “Sara has them, she wants me to meet her for lunch. Is that okay? Is it okay if I leave? I feel bad, since you… came here… just for me.”

  Noah looks instantly liberated. “No, not at all, don’t feel guilty. Please. I should have told you I was planning lunch at home. You go, I’ll eat and get back to work.”

  I smiled the fakest smile of my life, then grabbed my purse and coat. I looked at him. “We can… talk about Christmas maybe tonight.”

  He smiled back and winked. “Sounds like a plan.”

  I rushed out.

  I dropped my keys seven times trying to start my ignition and once I was on the road, the tears came.

  By the time I reached Lorenzo’s place, I had hidden the mess I was, in the car. Giada hugged me at the hostess stand; I don’t know if she knows, but I don’t care. It feels good. Then she led me to my table where a plate of pasta was sitting, steam still rising from it.

  I get the hint from Lorenzo.

  Food fixes everything.

  And once again, it sort of did, as my troubles clawed at the glass of that window, watching me eat but unable to enter and devour me whole.

  My phone buzzed with a text from Lorenzo that I read mid-meal.

  “Five things you can see. Four things you can touch. Three things you can hear. Two you can smell; one you can taste.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  LYDIA

  He didn’t say, “Would you like to take a walk?” Or “Have you ever explored Little Italy? No? Wanna go some time?”

  No.

  This is Lorenzo we are talking about.

  After our morning of coffee and silence, he took my cup and saucer and said. “Come.”

  “Come where?”

  “I’m going to show you Little Italy. Come on.”

  “Don’t you have to work?” I said, getting up.

  “Liam has it,” he helped me on with my coat.

  I know what he’s doing. I’ve been in a slump since I walked in on Noah and Ruby in our house. This is Lorenzo trying to console me, but I wonder, does he ever need to be consoled? He knows I’m a mess, but he never expresses in words, the torment that his wife inflicts on him. We never talk about the fact that this affair is going on ten months, and that it may be more serious than a fling.

  “Look,” he stopped us on our walk and pointed to an enormous white church. The stain glass windows and large double doors seem transported from another time and world, plopped right here, in the middle of Manhattan. “It’s the Church of the Most Precious Blood.”

  “I’ve never heard about it,” I detoured, going up the stairs and inside. Lorenzo followed, flicking away his newly lit cigarette.

  Upon entering, he paused in the doorway to cross himself with the Holy Water available. It was interesting to me, seeing him show a care for something sacred. We walked to a pew, every step, no matter how light, making a dense squeak or creaking sound.

  “This is the biggest church I’ve ever been in,” I whispered as we sat.

  He sat back, hands in his coat pockets still. “Italians are too extravagant to do anything in a small way.”

  I studied the front of the church, the altar, the crucifix, the candles, and flowers. “How old is this place?”

  “It was started in 1888 and was finished in 1904. They established it for the quickly growing population of Italian immigrants. Such as my family.”

  I turned my head up to see the ceiling. Even the ceiling was a work of art. “It lives up to the idea of a temple. I like the feeling here. I feel… small… pocket-size. I imagine we all are, compared to God. Maybe that’s why your people make his temples so big. To remind us of that.”

  Lorenzo watched my profile, then diverted his gaze to the altar.

  “Imagine how the immigrants felt, in such a foreign land,” I caressed my stomach, where my most precious cargo was. “Nothing familiar, not even their language. I bet this place made them feel like they were home. Like they weren’t so far away.”

  He nodded. “Possibly.”

  “You’ve been to Italy. Your mom said you were there quite a bit.”

  “Many, many times. I was born here, but I stayed with my grandparents often, and when I turned eighteen, I lived there for three years.”

  “Three years?” I crossed my legs. “Didn’t your parents miss you?”

  “They did, but culture, heritage, it’s all very important to me. To Ma, even though she tries so hard to be American. She wanted me to know my roots, and I was with my Nonna and Nonno, I couldn’t have been better looked after. I worked their vineyard in Tuscany.”

  I propped my elbow on the back of the pew and held my head, twisting to see him. “Nonna and Nonno?”

  “Grandmother, and Grandfather.”

  “Your family is from Tuscany?”

  “My mother’s side.”

  “And your father?”

  “Rome.”

  I thought about it. “I don’t think I could send my kid away for that long.”

  “Me either,” he admitted. “But then again, I was one of what would be eight.”

  “True,” I laughed a little. “What’s it like to be Catholic?”

  His slow smile was charming, especially how it pulled at his light scar and created thin lines around his dark eyes. “It is almost like being Christian, except there is more guilt involved.”

  I laughed.

  “Guilt for everything,” he went on. “Even if you didn’t do anything yet, you always feel guilty.”

  “What is the whole confessional thing, about?”

  “That’s where we go to feel less guilty. We tell the Priest what we did wrong and then the priest gives us our penance and we feel better so we can go do whatever it was again.”

  I sighed. “How does it start?”

  “We ask for a blessing and then say how long it’s been since we confessed.”

  “How long for you?” I ask.

  He narrowed one eye in thought. “Four years…”

  “Four! When was the last time you went to church?”

  “Last Christmas Eve… and I was drunk.”

  I hid my face in my scarf to laugh. He only smiled, not ashamed, nor proud.

  There were only a few other people in the church, and they were so far away. One was sitting, two were lighting candles, and a third was way in the back. It still felt private, like we were alone.

  He leaned forward and laid both forearms over the pew in front of us, doing idle things with his fingers. I fixated on his ring.

  “Why don’t you divorce her?” I asked before thinking.

  He looked at his ring, not even knowing it was where my eyes were too. “How big is your church?” he asked.

  “Don’t,” I frowned a little. “Please don’t change the subject.”

  “Not even my family knows why.”

  “But you and me…” I realized I needed to be careful about how I put this. “We’re kind of bonded through this mess. The two people we love most in the world are sleeping together. Maybe talking about us… sharing secrets,” I felt ill at the idea of it. “Aren’t we free to at least be hon
est about our circumstance?”

  “You haven’t divorced your husband,” he deflected.

  “I told you why. I’m pregnant. I don’t want our baby to have a split home. I have to try and make this work.” I rubbed my stomach. “And I admitted already, I’m afraid. I don’t want to lose Noah, no matter how awful this is.” I glanced around the church. “Sometimes since discovering all this, I feel like I’m getting further and further away from my faith. Our relationship was built on faith and now that it’s disintegrating, I sometimes fear that my faith will too.”

  He looked over at me. “You’ve changed. There’s no doubt about that. It’s a slow evolvement, but you are starting to explore the world you live in, starting to test limits, broadening your perspective. But this isn’t about your journey away from God. It’s about you discovering who the hell it is He loves so damn much.” He stared at the crucifix. “It’s about you figuring out who you are, and accepting that He might not be the one with expectations.”

  I let the wisdom in his statement settle on the air and it rattled me in my core. I’ve felt myself morphing lately, but I’ve been scared of it. Scared to be more like Sara from church, with her eccentric and secular appearance and ways, all the while she seems to have a firmer grasp of her faith than I do.

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “Now will you tell me why you won’t divorce?”

  He smiled, surprised that I hadn’t allowed him to steer us off the path. “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s okay, if I get confused, I’ll ask another question.”

  His smile fell away and he massaged one of his large hands as he spoke. “Ruby’s father owns most of the restaurant.”

  This threw me completely, and I sat straight up. “What?”

  “He owns eighty-percent.”

  “How did that happen?”

  He kept his mouth in a grim line and then said, “When Ruby and I married, we kept our finances separate. I wanted her father to trust me, that I was only with her out of love. I even signed a prenup. I was comfortable money-wise; I didn’t need her money. But then the restaurant hit a bad year, and then another. There was a fire that started in the kitchen and ruined half the building. It was going to need a remodel, and as good as I was at saving, with the bad years prior, I couldn’t pull it off…” he took off his ring and examined it. “Her father offered to buy a share, and have it repaired. I was hesitant, it’s been in our family for so long, but that is also why I agreed. I couldn’t bear to see it flounder or to lose it. Ruby convinced me I was being stubborn, but she never offered to help me with the damage, and I was too proud to ask. So, I sold eighty-percent to her father… one of the biggest land tycoons in New York.”