But only almost, because Evelyn had had an excuse. What excuse had Gary invented for letting himself get close enough to another woman to feel that? Evelyn would never have flirted, never have wanted, never have touched . . . if only Gary hadn’t cheated on her.
But now . . . now she had. And it filled her up with power. A different kind. A sweet, soulful power, nothing like the vengeance she’d been wreaking on Gary.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said as he stepped into the back room. “They’re just browsing, but I should—”
“It’s fine.” She reached behind her for the bag. “I didn’t mean to interfere with your work. I should go.”
“I . . .” The word died in his throat, and he just watched her, his hands raised a few inches, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
“It’s okay. I’ll go.” She slid the paintings into the bag and ran a hand down her skirt to be sure everything was in place.
“Can I text you tonight?” he asked as she swung around.
“Yes.”
“Evelyn . . .” He looked so helpless, his face creased with worry.
“Please don’t say you’re sorry again. Not unless you are.”
He closed his mouth. Shook his head. The worry didn’t clear from his face. “I’m not a guy who cheats on his wife.”
Good. She wouldn’t want him as much if he were. “All right,” she drawled. “Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”
His laugh was mostly a groan of exasperation.
“I’ll go,” she repeated, but as she moved to walk by him, she realized his mouth was pinker than it should be and reached up to swipe her thumb over the faint ghost of her lipstick. “But you’d better clean up, because you look like a man who cheats on his wife.”
As she walked through the gallery, she didn’t have to tell herself to put her shoulders back and keep her chin up. She might have come in the gallery faking the stride of a sexual, confident, dangerous woman, but on the way out, it was all real.
CHAPTER 14
BEFORE
“She came to me for the normal kind of thing,” he started, still trying to keep it vague.
“You’re a clinical psychiatrist,” Evelyn snapped. “You don’t deal in normal.”
Gary cleared his throat. “All right. The normal kind of abnormal that plagues most people in our society. Depression, but mostly anxiety. Everyday anxiety made worse by severe anxiety attacks. After the first few sessions, she seemed to think I was helping her. She . . . flirted with me.”
Evelyn sat back. “So this has been going on for a year?”
“No. I didn’t just succumb to her overtures. Do you know how many patients develop crushes on their doctors?”
“A lot. So how many have you slept with?”
His jaw clenched like he was already irritated with her questions. Poor baby. He was in for a long day. “She’s the only one.”
“How many women have you slept with who weren’t patients?”
“Evelyn, I swear I’ve never done this before. It was only her.”
“So she was special?”
He took a deep breath and seemed to give up some of the fight, sinking back into his chair as he exhaled. “I don’t know what happened. I just . . . I guess I was flattered by her attention. And maybe I developed a bit of a savior complex. I don’t know. She was so fragile, and I felt pulled in. It was a . . . connection.”
“And she’s pretty,” Evelyn pointed out.
He wisely kept his mouth shut.
“When did it turn sexual?”
“Six months ago.”
Evelyn closed her eyes. He’d been making love to another woman for six months. Had there been a change in him? She knew she would spend days and weeks turning over the question, but she couldn’t think of anything now.
Six months ago had been the start of winter. There’d been holiday preparation and awards dinners and plenty of his events Evelyn had said no to. She’d been too busy buying gifts and decorating and baking things for neighbors. There’d been homecoming, then winter fundraisers, then Thanksgiving and Christmas and . . .
“In your office?” she asked.
He shifted, his gaze drifting down to the desk. “The first time, yes.”
“And the others?”
“Evelyn—”
“Tell me.” She stared straight at him until he answered.
“Sometimes hotel rooms.”
“How? I pay your credit card bills.”
A flush climbed up his neck. She tried to imagine him frequenting some no-tell motel where he could pay with cash, but she couldn’t picture it. Not with Gary. He liked his high-thread-count sheets too much. He was picky about shower heads and cheap carpet. He’d never have sex on a stained polyester coverlet. Unless, of course, there were a thousand more ways she didn’t know him.
“I . . . I paid cash for debit cards that you fill up at the store.”
Her own face burned at that. The heat climbed up her throat to her cheeks and all the way to the top of her head. He hadn’t just had sex with this woman. He’d thought about her. Planned for her. Schemed and strategized. How many nights of his “work” distractions had actually been about this Juliette?
God, he must have loved it when Evelyn and her sister had driven to Iowa for their aunt’s funeral. Three nights of freedom in February. Had he spent all of them with her?
“Do you love her?”
“No. I told you, it was only physical.”
“But it wasn’t only physical. You said you felt a connection.”
“I thought so at first. It was exciting. Exhilarating. But I knew it was wrong. After a while, it became more of a complication than anything else. She was needy, of course. Her anxiety problems . . .” Whatever he’d been thinking, his words faded away.
“So why? Why did you do it? Why did you keep doing it if you weren’t even in love with her?”
He shrugged, shaking his head as if to loosen his thoughts. “I don’t know. Ego. And . . .”
“And?”
“Sex.”
Here was the part of the conversation she didn’t want to have. Her face grew so hot she wanted to press her palms against her cheeks to cool them. “Because you weren’t getting enough at home?”
He didn’t answer.
“Well?” she demanded.
“You’re not interested,” he said.
She wanted to scream at him that it wasn’t true, but the reality was she just didn’t care about sex anymore. She didn’t even want to be naked with him, because she knew he’d be quietly judging her for not working out more. She’d rather protect herself than be vulnerable to the weary judgment in his eyes. Not that they never had sex, but surely he could tell that she was doing it out of guilt.
She couldn’t even tell him about her self-consciousness, because he’d deny it. He’d say, “I’ve never once called you fat,” and that would be true. But he’d sneered at her snacks, raised eyebrows at her complaints that her knees hurt and she couldn’t work out. He’d been too smart to ever say a word, but he’d made it clear that he was superior.
She’d stopped feeling attractive, and eventually she’d also stopped being attracted. And hadn’t every woman heard those warnings her whole life? If he’s not getting it at home, he’ll get it somewhere else.
“And her?” Evelyn croaked. “Juliette. Was she just tired of her husband and kids? Looking for a little excitement?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You’re her fucking psychiatrist.” A moment passed, then she burst into harsh laughter. “Get it?” she gasped. “Her fucking psychiatrist. Literally!”
He didn’t seem to find it amusing. His face wrinkled in distaste, and she had the strangest urge to stand up and give him the finger. Both middle fingers, actually. She usually found cursing as vulgar as Gary did, but today it felt really, really good.
“Sorry,” she managed to choke out. “Should I call it making love?” But she�
�d taken it too far now, because an image suddenly sprang to mind of Gary naked with that woman. Both of them fit and beautiful, stretched out on fine white cotton in a high-end hotel room as they kissed and caressed each other.
He would’ve loved showing off his body. His stamina. His athleticism. He was a man. He didn’t need just sex; he needed ego stroking, and Evelyn had long been too self-conscious to give him that.
He was a doctor to her stay-at-home parenting. He earned a healthy six figures to her hourly wage. He had a six-pack, and her stomach looked like a bag of marshmallows. The silver peppered through his hair made him look distinguished, while she tried desperately to make her signs of aging disappear. Evelyn didn’t have enough ego for herself. She couldn’t share with him, so she’d left him to his own devices. Why was she so surprised that one of those devices had been a pretty blond girl who needed his help?
“How many times did you have sex with her?” she asked.
“Jesus Christ, Evelyn. I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not. Even if I were willing to, do you really think I counted?”
“So it was that many times? Too many times to count? Hundreds?”
“No,” he answered.
“Dozens?”
Gary sighed, blowing a long, weary breath through his flared nostrils.
“How many times did you rent a room?” she pressed.
“I don’t know. Five times, I think.”
“And how much sex each time? You’re nothing if not logical. You wouldn’t have wanted to waste a room once you’d rented it. Time with her must have been hard to come by, and you could have had sex at least a couple of times even if you didn’t stay the night. Did you spend whole nights with her?”
“No.”
“So a few hours in each hotel room. And you still had sex in your office, right? A whole hour together uninterrupted every week? Multiply that by six months. What does that add up to?”
“This isn’t going to help you—” he started, but she leaned forward and slapped both hands onto the surface of his desk. The sound cracked through the room and he jumped, eyes flying wide.
“You don’t get to decide what helps me,” she snarled. “You agreed to tell me everything not five minutes ago. In exchange I keep your sordid, awful, disgusting secret. Remember?”
Anger flooded her veins, and she became aware of her own strength again. Her visceral, undeniable force. If he wanted his career, then he had to give her what she asked for.
He stared at her. His cheeks weren’t flushed with anger or embarrassment now. They were pale as old ash.
Evelyn took a deep breath and sat back. “So . . . you met her in a hotel room five times. And then there was your office. Probably your car too? Isn’t that what cheaters do?” She interlocked her fingers and stared down at the weaving of her own flesh, wondering when she’d last held Gary’s hand. Last year when they’d taken that vacation to Mexico? She’d held his hand as they’d watched the sun set. He’d pulled away soon after. “So,” she said lightly, “how many times did you have sex with Juliette Whitman? Just an estimate.”
He held out for a few more seconds before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty times. Twenty-five.”
She looked up and aimed a hard look at him.
“I didn’t see her every week,” he said. “Her appointments were twice a month.”
“Was she in love with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she tell you she loved you?”
“Once.”
“And what did you say to that?” she asked, just the question causing enough of a wound that it felt as if her heart were swelling inside her chest like a ruined, useless limb. She needed to know everything, but why? What difference could it make? Whatever he’d said, it wouldn’t change what had happened. He’d still had sex with another woman dozens of times. He’d still wanted and needed her more than he had Evelyn.
“I . . . I told her I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.”
“So maybe you loved her?”
“Whatever it was, it was temporary.”
Oh boy, wasn’t everything?
Love was temporary. So was lust. And happiness, confidence, trust. And marriage. Especially that. Gary was probably ready to move on. Trade his old wife in for a newer model. Wasn’t that what successful men did?
But he couldn’t leave now. Hell, not only did he have to stay, but he couldn’t even be in charge anymore.
Evelyn suspected there was never true equality in marriage. Someone always had stronger feelings, or held the purse strings, or was more persuasive, powerful, and pushy. For all of these years, Gary had wielded all those advantages. He’d been the king of his castle. But not anymore.
She told herself that it could be better this way. She’d be stronger. Maybe, in the end, her marriage would be better off with a little more honesty and balance between them.
Or maybe not. Because every time that new power burned through her, it left scorched emptiness behind, and Evelyn suspected she might eventually disappear altogether.
CHAPTER 15
AFTER
I’ve been thinking about it, he wrote at ten thirty.
Evelyn had been in the guest room for hours, organizing the new supplies she’d picked up on the drive home from Noah’s gallery. Paints, brushes, easels, cleaners, canvases. A hopeful, satisfying haul . . . and the only thing in the world that could have distracted her from the afternoon with Noah. Still, she’d checked her phone obsessively, one minute sure that he’d send a titillating message, and the next convinced that he wouldn’t contact her at all.
He was a good man. He didn’t want to cheat on a woman he must assume had been faithful. But . . . he couldn’t resist thinking about it, at least.
She grinned at her phone as she read his message several times, looking for secret hints. What have you been thinking about? she finally texted back.
You. Today. Everything.
Evelyn almost melted onto the bed, her body pooling down to curl into the throw pillows. She’d been planning to move the bed out of here tomorrow to make space for all three easels, but now she wasn’t sure. Where would she curl up to talk to Noah?
And what did you think about me?
I can’t tell you that.
Her pulse sped up as if he’d touched her. Why?
Bcuz then this would turn into sexting, and I’d like to maintain some dignity.
She didn’t even try to muffle her laughter at that. There were so many kinds of happiness swirling through her right now. Amusement, lust, anticipation, delight, flattery, triumph. She didn’t care about dignity. She’d try sexting with him. Not tonight, though. She was already far too eager for this, and she couldn’t let him know.
And what did you think about what happened today? she typed instead of demanding to know every detail of his sexual fantasies.
I still don’t know. Could we talk? Is it safe for me to call you?
That was different from is it all right. Is it safe made clear that they had something to hide. Something dangerous. Evelyn wasn’t a safe woman anymore. Good.
She glanced at the locking doorknob she’d installed on the guest room door. That had been another stop on the way home. After all, she’d needed to waste time. Those committee meetings could go on for hours. She’d bought a new doorknob at a little hardware store, then walked four doors down to grab sushi, another food that Gary didn’t like and she loved.
She’d brought all of it to the small corner bedroom upstairs, aware that Gary was in his study but not bothering to check in with him. First, she’d eaten the sushi and washed it down with a glass of wine, then she’d installed the new lock, and finally she’d unpacked the boxes and bags of supplies. Gary had closed the door of the master bedroom twenty minutes earlier without even asking when she was coming to bed. Now it was time for real fun. Noah.
Is it safe for you to call?
She’s asle
ep.
“Ha.” Evelyn should have been disturbed by the hard, sharp sound that sprang from her mouth, but she wasn’t. Juliette was asleep and her husband wanted Evelyn.
I can talk, she typed.
It took a few minutes for her phone to buzz. She tried to picture what he might be doing. Checking to see if Juliette was still sleeping, getting a beer, locking the door of his basement office. Maybe she was wrong about all of it, but she liked imagining him.
When it finally buzzed, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself before she answered the phone. “Hi,” she said softly, dropping any polite deception. She knew exactly who it was and what she wanted.
“Hi. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m good, actually. What about you?”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“About what?”
“You know what.” There was warmth in his words, as if he were remembering.
“I doubt anyone would care,” she said honestly. If Gary caught her cheating he’d probably be thrilled. It’d be something for him to use against her. Leverage against the great weight of his crime.
“That bad?” Noah asked softly.
“It’s complicated. You must know that. You love your wife, but you kissed me today.”
He blew out a long sigh. “I did.”
“And did you decide if you’re sorry or not?”
“Jesus, Evelyn. How am I supposed to answer that? I loved every second of it, but I don’t want to cheat on my wife.”
“You never have?”
“No,” he said immediately, but the silence that followed that decisive answer eroded the edges of it.
“Are you sure?”
“I . . . God, I’ve never told anyone this.”
“What?” she pressed, half afraid that this was no longer special and half excited to hear his secrets.
“Before we got married . . . a month before the wedding . . . I think I got jitters. I don’t know.”
“You slept with another woman?”
“It was a one-night stand.” She felt inexplicably aroused. Maybe because it was something that could hurt Juliette. Or maybe just that it was scandalous and titillating, and the woman was already no competition for Evelyn. A nameless, faceless woman he’d chosen never to see again. Noah had taken Evelyn out for dinner. Shared his coffee. Begged to see her paintings. She was already more than a one-night stand.
Evelyn, After: A Novel Page 11