It’s exactly what she said it would be. Work. Grading, art projects. A picture of a hamster cage with googly eyes glued on crooked, followed by him saying:Dylan told me Friday it needed “more personality.” I think it’s judging me now.
I shrug despite myself, still not liking it.
“Well?” she asks.
I hand the phone back. “Okay, yeah, it’s nothing.”
“I told you that.”
“I know.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “I just—”
“Mason,” she says quietly, “I’m not interested in him. At all.”
I look at her.
“I’m in love with you,” she continues. “I marriedyou. I come home toyou. I promise there’s nothing there beyond work.”
“I know,” I say.
“But I guess I also get why it bothered you,” she adds. “Because if the roles were reversed, if you were laughing at your phone and said it was some woman from work, I wouldn’t love that either.”
Relief hits and she scoots closer. “Not because I’d think you were cheating. But because we don’t get a ton of time together.”
“Yeah.”
She pauses, then adds, “I’ll always keep it professional. And I’ll be more mindful when we’re home. But I also need you to trust me.”
I nod. “I do. I promise.”
She studies my face. “I need you to promise that you’ll say something sooner from now on too.”
“I know,” I admit. “I’m sorry. I will.” I squeeze her hand.
She leans into me then, her head resting against my shoulder. I wrap my other arm around her and hold her close, the tension fading.
“I don’t want anyone else’s attention,” she murmurs. “I want yours.”
My chest tightens.
“You have it,” I say. “You always have it.”
We sit like that for a while, the TV still playing. Her fingers trace slow, absent circles against my leg.
The house is quiet by the time we crawl into bed. TV off, lights dimmed, the ceiling fan ticking.
Megan rolls onto her side, facing me, her head resting on my chest. One arm drapes across my stomach. She smells good, like she always does. I stare up at the ceiling for a minute, my thoughts still circling, slower now and calmer.
Her fingers trace against my bare skin.
She tilts her head back to look at me, eyes soft in the low light. “So, we’re okay, right?”
“We’re great.”
She smiles and settles back in, tucking herself closer. Silence stretches again. Comfortable. Easy.
After a minute, her breathing evens out, the weight of her sinking heavier against me as sleep takes over. I stay awake longer than she does, listening to it.
I think about how fast jealousy crept in tonight. How easily fear slipped into a place that should’ve been solid.
