I should leave. Go back upstairs. Pretend I didn't see this.
Instead, I stay.
He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches me, his chest heaving, sweat trailing down his six-pack abs. His face gives me nothing—jaw set, eyes flat and dark, but his nostrils flare once.
I swallow hard. “I let the cat in.”
His brow furrows. "What?"
"Upstairs. A tabby. It followed me in." I gesture vaguely toward the stairs. “I saw you feeding it."
His shoulders drop half an inch. The tension doesn't leave his face, but his jaw unclenches. "It showed up last winter. Wouldn't leave."
"You adopted it."
"I kept it from starving. That's not the same thing."
"There's a bag of cat food in the pantry."
He exhales through his nose. "It's a stray."
I cross my arms watching this man who handed me a credit card and more money than I’ve ever seen in my life, who found a barista’s brother a job, and who fixed an old lady’s furnace, as he unwraps the tape from his hands with methodical precision, pulling each loop free without looking at me.
"You're not what I thought you were." I blurt out the words before I think better of it, then wince when I realize what I just said.
His hands still. He looks up, and the weight of his gaze pins me in place.
"What did you think I was?"
I shrug. A monster. I don’t want to say it aloud, but it’s the truth.
“I..um…I guess I didn’t really know.” The answer’s a cop-out, but it’s all I can manage at the moment.
He doesn't respond. Just stares at me, his brow furrowed. I’m aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the sheen of sweat on his sculpted muscles, and the faint scar near his ribs.
"You're staring," he says, voice low.
"You're half-naked."
"You came down here."
"I heard a noise."
"And you're still here."
I am. I'm still here, in a basement with a man I married to survive, a man I've been avoiding for days, a man whose body is doing things to my nervous system I don't have words for.
His eyes drop to my mouth and linger.
Then he drops his gaze.
"Go upstairs, Saoirse."
It's not a command. It's a warning. One I heed.
I turn and climb the stairs, my legs shaking, my pulse rioting in my ears.
At the top, I take a long breath.
