“She’d never go for it,” Christabelle said dismissively, tying her ponytail tighter.
“Your wife would never agree to hire me. Even though I’d be, like, perfect for the job. Women don’t like me. They never do. I’ve just always found it easier to get along with men.”
“Yeah, I remember girls were so mean to you in college,” I agreed, but my mind was racing.
Christabelle stay here for longer than her visit?That was a dangerous idea.
I should wrap this game up, go over and eat with Jillian. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, her legs tucked up neatly underneath her, the bright marigold of her skirt flared out on the picnic blanket. Her long soft brown hair was slipping out of its braid, whirling around her face in the sea breeze.
But my skin was buzzing with awareness, my ears ringing as Christabelle stood in front of me.
I still couldn’t believe that she was back.
For years I’d wondered what had happened to her. Kept trying to find her online, and when I finally unearthed her profile, checked up on her way too many times.
What was she doing? Who was she with?
I didn’t spendthatmuch time. Maybe that’s why I convinced myself it was fine.
Everyone looked up their ex-girlfriends, nothing weird about that. Just a quick little flick through her pictures, the nights out, vacations to Malibu, backpacking, the hikes, the wine tastings.
It didn’t mean I didn’t love my wife.
“People neverbelieveme that other women can be so jealous and cruel. No matter how nice I try to be.”
“Jillian’s not like that,” I protested. “She’s not the jealous type. She loves everybody.”
“Oh Frankie,youalways want to see the best in everyone. Did you actually tell Jillian about us?”
“Of course I did,” I said, starting to feel a fresh sweat break out on my neck, trying to keep it all casual, but my eyes darted around to make sure no one had heard her.
Jillian was still sitting on her little picnic blanket with her feet tucked under, looking out at the waves. Not at me.
Which was good. Because I felt naked, like my secret thoughts were exposed to the world.
Not that I was doing anything wrong. We were just talking.
“What did you tell her?”
“That we went out together, of course,” I said, hoping my laugh was casual, unscrewing my water bottle for something to do with my hands.
Something appropriate.
My throat felt parched, closing in on me. I needed a drink.
“Oh, Frankie.”
Christabelle was close enough to smell her same perfume, close enough to look right down her cleavage at her bouncing breasts, if I so chose.
But I didn’t choose. I wasn’t a cheater.
But it felt like I didn’t even have to look at her to feel desire crawl all over my skin.
So she was hot. One of the hottest women I’d ever seen in my life.
But I wasmarried.
Jillian had stuck with me through thick and thin. She was my ride or die. She deserved the same loyalty I gave her.
