Hello, he signed.
Hello,G, I signed back. This was one way around the library’s no-talking policy.
He raised his hands again to say,How are you?
I shrugged. It hadn’t escaped his notice that I’d been sulking around ever since the huge fight with my dad and Stefan. Despite my mood, though, I’d spent even more time at group study sessions with Gavin and my best girlfriends Lila, Diane, and Audrey. Anything to keep me from having to go back home. Gavin especially had been a balm to my frayed nerves, grabbing coffee with me between classes and talking with me for ages in the commons.
Evening meal now, he told me. It was dinner time.
Glancing at my watch, I realized he was right. It was almost seven, and I hadn’t eaten for hours. I nodded and began packing up my things, but as I stood he gently took my arm and signed,Go with me?His warm brown eyes were hopeful.
To evening meal?I gestured.
He nodded, flashing that contagious, dimpled grin that my friends couldn’t seem to get enough of. I might have been married, but I had to admit it was a nice smile. Boyish. Charming.
With friends?I asked.
Me and you, he answered, pointing first at himself and then at me.
I hesitated. We’d hung out alone at school plenty of times before, but when it came to going somewhere off campus, it had always been a group activity with at least one other friend. Was this like…a date? But no. Gavin knew I was married. Knew we were just friends.
I nodded and flashed him a thumbs-up, using my left hand to make sure he got a good look at my wedding rings. Just in case.
Why should I worry, anyway? It wasn’t as if anyone would be waiting up for me at home, besides maybe Gretna…and by now our personal chef was used to packing up our meals when neither Stefan nor I could make it home in time for dinner—which had been frequently as of late, since school had turned into my place of exile.
Plus, Gavin was born and raised in Chicago, so he knew all the best spots to hang out in the city. I was sure I’d be in for a treat.
Wordlessly, I hooked my arm through Gavin’s and let him lead me out of the library.
“So where are we going?” I asked as we walked across campus.
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “You cool taking the L? My car’s at home today.”
“I suppose I could endure a bit of public transportation,” I teased. “But this restaurant better be worth it.”
“Don’t worry, princess,” he said, using the nickname all my friends threw at me whenever I wore designer heels to class or got picked up by a private car. “It will be.”
Everything with Gavin felt easy and fun. Why couldn’t it be this way with Stefan?
We took the subway downtown, which (despite my joking) really was a novelty for me, since I mostly traveled via Stefan’s private car or one of my ride-sharing apps. I hoped Gavin was taking us somewhere exciting and energetic, because my eyelids felt heavy as I stared at the Chicago skyline out the train windows and allowed my thoughts to wander.
Despite the nightmare my life had become, and how difficult it was to fall asleep by myself in the big, lonely guest room, Stefan and I seemed to have reached an uneasy truce. One where we mostly avoided each other. I spent my days in class, studying at Harper, or hanging out with my school friends. Then I’d return to the condo as late as possible each night, knowing he could track me through my cell phone at any time if he wanted to know where I was. Though I doubted my husband cared enough to bother.
I was certain he was cheating. His days seemed to go longer and longer, half the time he didn’t even come home at all, and the other half he’d get in after midnight. I told myself I didn’t care, that it didn’t matter who he was slept with. I didn’t want him anyway. Not really.
When he was home, we didn’t speak unless it was to say there was fresh coffee, or that Gretna had the day off. We were basically just roommates, and for all Stefan’s posturing about how I was still expected to obey him when he “required” me to behave as his wife, he hadn’t tried to put a hand on me.
Those first few nights, I’d tossed and turned for hours, waiting for him to slip into bed after midnight the way he had always done. I kept stirring at every small noise, thinking that it might be him, coming to claim my body, pound into me with that punishing cock until I came.
I was ashamed that I had such thoughts. That I got hot and wet thinking about it. That I still wore my same silky, lacy lingerie, just begging to be torn off of me. That part of me was even entertaining the possibility that things could go back to normal—that I could forget the reality of our situation. Of my situation. But old habits die hard.
My life seemed to float by in a haze. It was almost a dance, the two of us orbiting each other in the same space, but on two separate continents emotionally. It stung, even though I knew I should be happy the monster was staying away from me. I was just lonely, that was all.
Sure, I missed kissing him and touching him and fucking him, letting him fuck me and own me and make my toes curl—but that was because I’d only recently come to realize how good sex could be, and I’d become accustomed to his touch. Plus, I’d never slept with anyone else. Who else would I even fantasize about when I touched myself in the shower? Gavin Chase?
I glanced over at him, feeling myself blush, hoping there was no way he could read my thoughts.
“Next stop’s ours,” he said, as the train slowed.
