I use that time to have Scarlett collect her overnight bag and whatever belongings she left on the bottom floor while I toss the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and left-out food in the trash. I’ll take it out the back once I get Scarlett out of here, but Beth never looks in there anyway, so I’m not too worried.
“Do you have everything?” I ask, glancing between her and the door.
“I think so. But you never gave me my panties! I don’t know where they are!” she hisses, looking all over the kitchen and hallway. I don’t have time to wonder where I put them. I’ll figure that out once I get her as far away from Beth as possible.
Dragging her out the back, I rush her onto her bike and give her verbal instructions on how to get back on the road through the woods. She nods like she understands, but I see her eyes struggling to keep up with my directions.
“Don’t worry. I have a map on my phone,” she reassures me, ready to pedal off. But, before she can get far, I risk pulling her back.
“Not without a kiss,” I demand, stealing another before pointing her in the right direction. I stand out there as long as I can, watching her form fade away from me until I hear the sound of Beth’s car locking.
Bracing myself, I storm back inside, giving the room another quick look around before she stumbles through the front door.
“Hey! You’re home so soon. What happened?” I ask, out of breath, easily reverting back into my old self whenever she’s around.
Throwing her keys on the center island, she sends me a scathing look. “Why the fuck do you sound like that? Actually, I don’t care. The conference was a fucking disaster, so Dad sent me home. Said only a man could handle the issues. What the fuck is that? Am I that much of a fucking idiot that I can’t handle a bunch of old ass men with inflated egos? Bullshit.”
“What were the issues?”
“Why are you asking me? It’s not like you would fucking understand. You’re a teacher. What do you know about banking shit?”
It hasn’t even been five fucking minutes.
“Just trying to take an interest in my wife's life,” I mutter, pulling the trash out of the bin.
“Well, don’t,” she bites out, sliding down from the stool. “I’m going to take a shower and then sleep. Don’t come into the room until I wake up.”
Shit.
“Okay. Let me just go change the sheets. I spilled some coffee on them this morning,” I lie, dropping the tied trash bag on the floor. Beth calls me an idiot on my way up the stairs, screaming that that’s what happens when I eat like a fucking pig in the bed.
She fails to remember that it isn’t me who makes most of the mess in the house, but I keep my lips shut about that. Arguing with her isn’t a priority when the sheets I fucked Scarlett on still remain on the mattress.
Crumpled and smelling of sex, I rip them from the corners, hastily balling them under my arm while I open the window to let in some air.
I’m making sure nothing of Scarlett’s is visible or left behind, when Beth comes into the room. Her eyes instantly go to the naked bed and the sheets in my hold. There’s no suspicion in her gaze, just the usual disgust and contempt she has for me.
“Fix this. I want it done when I get out,” she orders, smacking me on the back of the skull before retreating into the bathroom.
She shakes the walls with the force behind the slamming door. Almost immediately, the shower sprays on. Sprinting into action, I quickly make up the bed. Spending less than three minutes on the sheets and pillows, I use the remainder of her bathing to search for the panties Scarlett said she left behind.
They aren’t under the bed, nor are they shoved in the crack between the mattress and frame. I’m losing time. My pulse quickens, sweat beading on my forehead as I neatly tear the room apart.
Where the fuck are they?!
The shower shuts off, and the countdown begins. I have only minutes to find Scarlett’s fucking thong before Beth comes in here and furiously whips me for not being out.
I threw them, I remember. Rapidly, I reenact my movements, visualizing them flying over my shoulder. I trip on my feet as I spin around, racing toward the dirty hamper. They would have been on top had I thrown them there, but once again, I’m at a loss.
“Shit!” I hiss, listening to Beth hum as she finishes. I’m about ready to overturn the basket when I hear the doorknob jiggle.
I can’t let Beth be the one to find those panties. She’ll fucking ruin everything if she does.
Just as the door creaks open, I see them. Gasping, I race toward the nightstand, plucking them from behind the shade and shoving them in my pocket before Beth steps out.
She spots me by the bed, hands tucked in my pockets while I control the rapid pace of my heart. Her eyes travel across my face, pinching tightly at the corners as she takes in the rise and fall of my chest.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
