Harrison went silent. That was answer enough.
"Get out," Sarah hissed. The air in the room felt toxic. "Both of you. Get out of my house."
Emily stood up then, wrapping the blanket tighter like a toga. She stepped over the broken glass of Sarah’s wedding day.
"Actually, Sarah," Emily said, her voice eerily calm, bordering on boredom. "I'm not going anywhere. Mom and Dad left this house to both of us. It's half mine. You can't kick me out."
Sarah looked at her sister. Really looked at her. She sawthe jealousy that had festered for decades, the entitlement, the rot.
"Is that right?" Sarah walked to the front door and flung it wide open to the cold night air. She turned back to them, her eyes dead. "You can argue about the deed with the lawyers. But right now, if you two aren't out of here in thirty seconds, I am calling the police and telling them there are intruders. And considering Harrison is naked and I have a shattered frame on the floor, who do you think they'll believe?"
She turned her gaze to Harrison. "Do you want the neighbors to see you being dragged out in handcuffs, Harrison? Or do you want to leave?"
Harrison looked at Emily, then at the open door. Shame finally seemed to catch up with him. He grabbed his pants from the floor, hopping on one leg to put them on.
"Emily, let's go," Harrison muttered.
"Seriously?" Emily scoffed. "You're going to let her boss us around?"
"Go!" Sarah screamed, the sound ripping through the neighborhood silence.
Harrison grabbed his keys and wallet from the coffee table and bolted out the door without looking back. Emily glared at Sarah, snatched her pile of clothes, and sauntered past her sister.
"You were always such a prude, Sarah," Emily whispered as she passed. "He needed something real."
Sarah slammed the door in her face, locking the deadbolt.
She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She could hear Harrison’s car starting in the driveway. She slid down to the floor, her expensive dress pooling around her, gasping for air as the silence of the empty house rushed back in to crush her.
She was alone. But the silence was better than the sound of them together.
Chapter Two
Harrison
Harrison’s hands were shaking so hard he couldn't get the key into the ignition. He jammed it in on the third try, the metal screeching, mirroring the noise in his head.
"Drive," Emily snapped from the passenger seat. She was pulling her shirt on over her head, her hair a chaotic mess of static and sweat. "Just drive, Harrison. She’s probably calling the cops right now. She’s dramatic like that."
Harrison didn't look at her. He couldn't. He stared through the windshield at the front door of his house. The door Sarah had just slammed. The door to the life he had built, the life he wanted.
He slammed the car into reverse, tires squealing on the asphalt as he backed out of the driveway. He drove two blocks down and pulled over under the shadow of an oak tree, killing the engine. Darkness swallowed the cabin.
He slammed his palms against the steering wheel. "Fuck!"
"God, relax," Emily said, adjusting the rearview mirror to look at herself. She wiped a smudge of mascara from her cheek. "Ideally, this isn't how I wanted to tell her, but at least it’s out now. No more sneaking around."
Harrison whipped his head toward her. The sight of her—the woman he had just been inside of, the woman whose skin he had been desperate to touch ten minutes ago—suddenly made bile rise in his throat.
"Tell her?" Harrison’s voice was ragged. "There was nothing to tell her, Emily. This wasn't a 'we' thing. This isn't a relationship."
Emily froze, her hand pausing near her face. She turned slowly to look at him. "Excuse me? You just told me I was the best you ever had. You said—"
"I was having sex!" Harrison shouted, the confines of the sedan amplifying his voice. "It was just sex! It’s dopamine. It’s... it’s a release."
He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the roots. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Sarah didn't understand. She had looked at him with such absolute horror, as if he had murdered someone.
She’s confusing things, he thought, his mind racing to rationalize the catastrophe. She saw the physical act and thought it erased the emotional truth. She thinks because I fuck Emily, I don't love her. But that’s not true.
