Page 195

He steps back and lets me in.

The living room is offensively clean, all white tile and black furniture and art that looks chosen by someone afraid of feelings. His suitcase sits open on the sofa, neatly packed except for the tiny straw hats balanced on top.

“I’m leaving in two hours,” he says. “So if this is a crisis, it needs to respect my departure time.”

I try to smile, but nothing moves correctly.

Don closes the door behind me. “What’s got you so rattled, babe?”

I walk to the chair by the window and sit.

“He knows.”

Don goes very still. “Knows what?”

“That I’ve been lying to him for months.” I look out the window, because I can’t see Don’s face when this hits. “Ever since the celebration of life. That website you told me about? The cam site.”

Don takes the seat across from me. “Paul, you didn’t.”

The room tilts slightly. I look at the floor. There’s a scuff near the baseboard. One imperfection in the whole sterile place, and my eyes cling to it like it might save me.

“I was just curious about him.”

Silence. Long enough that I hear a bus or truck grind up the hill outside.

“You… watched him?” he asks.

I nod. “Not just once.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I know.” I close my eyes. “And I chatted with him.”

Don sits back and sighs. “And Clint never knew it was you.”

“He does now.”

Another silent pause.

“You told him last night?”

Heat moves up my neck. I laugh once, badly. “That’s something a mature adult would do.”

“Then how?”

“He caught me. Red-handed, so to speak.”

Don inhales through his nose. It is not a calm inhale. “Paul.”

“I know!”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“He opened the door.” My voice drops, because if I say it normally, it becomes real in a different way. “He was naked. He knew. Or knew enough. And then—”

I stop. Don doesn’t rescue me. I make myself finish. “It turned sexual.”

Don’s eyes close.