The whole page wasn’t open to the public, but Evelyn could see enough. More than enough. Juliette wasn’t only a beautiful wife and mother; she was also a beloved second-grade teacher. There were pictures of her with adorable children gathered around, all of them beaming and earnest. She was crouched next to them or pointing out a word on a whiteboard or helping them dress as tiny animals.
This whore. This home-wrecker. This killer. Every molecule of her was a lie, and no one could see it.
Evelyn recognized the name of the elementary school where Juliette taught. It was in the next suburb, separated from Evelyn’s town by undeveloped farmland. Old Highway 23 led right to it.
She wanted to call the school. Leave a message. An anonymous tip that adorable Mrs. Whitman was an adulteress and a murderer, and someone should look into it. Her hand itched to grab the phone.
But she couldn’t. Partly because she’d promised Gary she wouldn’t. Mostly because she had no idea what was traceable these days. They’d call her back. Or maybe the police would come by. Evelyn couldn’t risk it.
She tried to click on a picture of Juliette, but Facebook wouldn’t allow her to do that without signing in. Another traceable action Evelyn wanted to avoid. If she signed in to her account, Facebook would see what she was doing at least, and for all she knew there were apps to let Juliette know who’d visited her page.
So Evelyn went back to the public view of Juliette’s life and zoomed in. The picture went too blurry, so she shrank it again, trying to get a sense of just how pretty Juliette was. Just how thin and young.
Her teeth were an impossibly white row of perfection. Her green eyes twinkled and didn’t crease into lines when she smiled. Her small breasts seemed to levitate somewhere near her collarbone. Were they real or subtle implants? Was she waxed and tanned and tweaked to perfection?
Evelyn stared at her, wondering if her voice was high and breathy and sweet when she begged someone else’s husband to take her. When she tore off those schoolteacher blouses, was she wearing sheer lace beneath? Did her flat, tan stomach lead down to a smooth, polished sex? Had Gary begged her for it? Had he loved her? Did he love her still?
She slammed the laptop shut with a cry.
Knowing more hadn’t helped. Nothing would ever help. Evelyn would be in pain forever.
CHAPTER 17
AFTER
Gary always woke earlier than she did, so Evelyn’s body had grown used to ignoring his alarm and the noise he made as he got ready, but today was different. Today her eyes popped open as soon as his alarm trilled. Facing away from him, she smiled into the dark, then deliberately shut her eyes again until he’d left the room.
She didn’t get up. It was still early, and the promise of the day was too delicious. Evelyn bundled the warm covers around her and opened her phone. She had reread his texts over and over last night, but she was ready to read them again this morning. She wished there were more. She wished she could replay their entire phone conversation on a loop.
She’d have to ask when it was okay to text him. Or maybe they could email each other sometimes. An email at 6:00 a.m. wouldn’t be nearly as curious to others as a text.
But for now, she couldn’t reach out to him. She’d have to show up and hope he hadn’t changed his mind. Take a leap of faith. A funny way to think of an affair.
She stroked her hands down the silky material of her nightgown, amazed to think that he might touch her just this way in a couple of hours. She’d had a few lovers before Gary, but she could barely remember their names now, much less what it had felt like to make love with them. She only knew Gary now. The techniques, the turn-ons, the routines. She knew his likes in bed and he knew hers. Whatever years of exciting exploration they’d had together had been over long ago.
She’d never wanted more than that. Not really. Not until now.
When Gary finally left, she leaped from bed and headed straight to the shower to shampoo and soap and shave and exfoliate until she glowed like a welcome sign.
She dried her hair and put on makeup, complete with eyeliner and mascara again, but she went with a neutral lipstick this time. Best to leave no incriminating evidence behind.
She’d already made a mental inventory of her underwear, and she had a black lace pair that would be perfect. She’d bought them on impulse last year, wondering if she’d exaggerated the comfort of cotton panties in her own mind, but no. Definitely not. There was nothing comfortable about lace, and the size “XL” on the tag had been an outright lie.
Evelyn dug them out of her drawer and put them on. They fit perfectly now, and comfort was the least of her concerns today. She topped it off with her least practical bra, a low-cut number she’d bought to wear with a specific cocktail dress. It didn’t do much to stop her breasts from bouncing when she walked, but she imagined Noah wouldn’t give a damn about that.
Actual clothes were another matter. She wanted to wear a skirt. Wanted him to shove it high on her legs again so he could get closer. Jeans would be far too much of a hindrance.
It would have to be the black skirt again, but at least she had the new green top to wear it with. As she fastened the small buttons of the blouse, she pictured Noah’s hands opening them back up, exposing her.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, suddenly light-headed. This was mad. Wonderful. Terrifying. Maybe it was all a fantasy. Maybe she’d finally broken from reality and was sedated in a hospital, creating this imaginary life for herself. It was a comforting thought, actually. Freeing.
Luckily, a glance at her phone put a stop to her worrying. She hadn’t wanted to be too early, but now she was anxious about losing time. The gallery opened at ten. If she got there at nine, they’d have an hour of privacy. He’d said early, but had he meant that early?
Unwilling to slide into an ocean of worry about it, she slipped on her black heels, checked her makeup one more time, then headed downstairs.
“Hey, Mom,” Cameron said from the kitchen. Evelyn tripped over her own feet and nearly fell.
“Cameron!” she gasped. “You’re still here!” Her hands shook. Her heart trembled.
“There’s a late start today. I’m leaving now. Are you okay?”
“Just startled. Sorry. I forgot about the assembly.”
“You seem different,” he said, frowning as he looked her up and down.
“Do I?” Her voice squeaked in fear, but his teenage maleness worked in her favor. He just shrugged and stuffed half an English muffin into his mouth before waving good-bye. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door.
The rumble of the garage door opening drowned out her hyperventilating gasps as she collapsed into a kitchen chair. How had she forgotten her own son? What the hell was wrong with her? She’d almost been caught.
But that was silly. So she’d dressed up and put on a little extra makeup. The most her family would suspect her of was trying too hard to look younger. No one would think she was off to have an affair, for godssake. That wasn’t something that Evelyn Tester did. It wasn’t something she was capable of.
Gary obviously hadn’t been thinking about Cameron when he’d set about screwing Juliette for six months. And that woman clearly hadn’t been prioritizing her children. Her kids were still small. They still needed all her time. She’d cheated them out of more than a couple of home-cooked meals.
Cameron was practically self-sufficient. Evelyn wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him all the time. That was unhealthy. He’d be out of the house in six months. He’d take girls back to his dorm room, and he wouldn’t once think about Evelyn and her life. No one would. She was the only one looking out for herself.
This wasn’t about her family. The past twenty years had been about her husband and son, but today was about her. One day. One week. One month to take what she wanted. That couldn’t possibly be too much to ask of the world.
Once the strength returned to her knees, Evelyn grabbed her purse—the smaller, sexy clutch now tucked inside—and headed out.
The drive there was over in a flash. Too fast. The only thing left to do was walk down the street and knock on his door. But now she wished it weren’t morning. She wished she’d come in the afternoon. They could have a glass of wine. Two glasses. It would be less like an appointment and more like a date.
Then she saw Noah. He was only a few feet inside the door of the gallery, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. When he spotted her, he waved and moved quickly to open the lock. She would never have waited that way, but he seemed unconcerned that she’d know he was eager to see her again. He wasn’t nurturing some fragile ego, too worried about pride to show his hand.
His face bloomed into a smile as he opened the door. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” She was happy to see him too, but her smile was all nervousness as she eased beneath his arm and heard him lock the door behind her. “I wasn’t sure what time to come,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
He winked. “Long enough. Want some coffee?”
“Sure,” she answered automatically, but as she followed him toward the back, she reconsidered. Were they going to sit around and sip coffee and wait awkwardly for a moment to kiss? Would she have coffee breath? She wanted to taste him again, not what he was drinking.
But she was too quick to worry, apparently. As soon as they crossed the threshold into the back room, Noah turned and stopped her. He put one finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could press a lingering kiss to her mouth. “Is that okay?” he whispered, his breath flowing into her when she inhaled.
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I feel like I’m losing my mind. You’re all I could think about last night.” He kissed her again. “And this morning.”
“Me too.”
He walked her slowly backward to the table. “Wanna make out?” he asked, and she laughed as he lifted her up and set her on the table exactly where she’d been before. It was just what she wanted. Just what she’d imagined. Her laughter died when his mouth touched her neck. She couldn’t stop a quiet moan.
“You like being kissed there,” he whispered against her skin.
“Yes.”
“Good. I like kissing you there.”
She twisted her fingers into the wild waves of his hair and held him to her neck as he sucked her skin. She had a vague idea that she should be concerned about any marks he might leave, but it felt so good she didn’t care. She’d wear turtlenecks all summer if he’d just keep sucking at that spot.
It felt as if time had ended with their embrace yesterday and had only now resumed. He was between her legs again, his erection pressed against her as she arched her neck for more. In fact, she breathed that very word, “More,” and Noah moaned and pushed closer, her legs spreading around his hips as he ducked his head to lick the hollow of her neck.
She might die from this, she realized then. It was so sweet and wild and terrifying that her thundering heart might just give out. How had she lived for so many years without feeling this way? She tugged him up, bringing his mouth to hers, and she kissed him too hard, too deep, trying to devour him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kissed her just as roughly, his tongue sweeping along hers over and over as she curled her fingers too tightly into his hair.
He cupped one of her breasts. His other hand gripped her hip and pulled her to the edge of the table. She could feel him through his jeans, thick and hard and pushing into her.
She let go of his hair and reached for the top button of his shirt. Her knuckles grazed soft chest hair as she worked his shirt open, then tugged it free of his jeans.
She ducked her head and kissed his neck, his collarbone. “Evelyn,” he groaned, her name a sweet, secret intimacy on his tongue.
His body smelled so different, so new. A spice unlike Gary’s skin, with no discreet touch of expensive aftershave to distract her. She curved her arms around his chest, spread her fingers over the heat of his back. She wanted all of her skin pressed to his, so she sighed in relief when he eased away to unbutton her shirt.
He opened it quickly. She had a brief moment to remember she was supposed to be self-conscious when he pushed the blouse off her arms and reached to unfasten her bra. But then her bra was off, and his breath was ragged with lust as he caught her nipple between his fingers.
She hissed at the shock of pleasure. Any self-consciousness fell away as he laid her back on the table and bent over to take her nipple into his mouth. Sensation swelled inside her, pushing her soul out. She didn’t have the space to imagine what she looked like; all she could do was feel.
His mouth sucked at her, drawing pleasure through her body as he reached beneath her hiked skirt and slid her panties down. They both grunted in shock when he touched her. Her hips tilted up to invite his fingers deeper.
“I bought condoms,” he whispered. “I didn’t know. I haven’t . . .”
Evelyn shook her head. “I have an IUD.”
Nodding, he stood straight and unbuckled his belt.
This was somebody else, not her. Somebody else watching as he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed down his briefs and lined up his body with hers. Somebody feeling the touch of him against the most vulnerable part of her. And then he was pushing in, the tightness of it widening her eyes. He was thicker than Gary, and she was glad for that, because she could close her eyes and know it was Noah, not her husband.
“Jesus,” he rasped. “You’re so hot.”
And she was. She was hot and wild and guiltless. An animal, spreading for him, taking him in, taking her due. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deep, her breath catching with the pressure. But she was so aroused that the pressure quickly eased, and then it was all liquid indulgence. All slipping and sliding while their sounds of pleasure wound around each other.
His hands slid up her belly and cupped her breasts as he sank himself into her again and again. She arched up and stretched her arms high above her head. She didn’t need to hold on to anything. He could do what he wanted, use her any way he pleased.
He took her harder, faster, and she urged him on, whimpering, “Yes, yes, yes,” until he finally climaxed with a desperate cry. Then her body was filled with him. A man she barely knew. A man she should never have met.
His loud panting grew softer. His hands slid from her breasts to her waist. She thought he’d withdraw then, but he surprised her by curling over her and resting his forehead on her breastbone. He pressed a gentle kiss to one breast and sighed. “Wow.”
Her laughter surprised her, bouncing from her throat in relief. “Yes.” She giggled, wrapping her arms around him, cradling him. “Wow.”
“That was insane.”
“Yes!”
Over her own laughter, she felt his chuckle rumble through her ribs. “Hold on one second,” he said, and slipped free of her.
Closing her eyes, she heard the clink of his belt as he pulled up his pants. She slid her knees together, but other than that, she didn’t move. She couldn’t. When she heard him return, she peeked through her lashes to see that he held some sort of padded shipping blanket.
“Here.” He eased it beneath her head, then lay down beside her on the table, legs bent, feet hanging down just like hers. He nudged her foot with his, and she realized she was still wearing her heels. She’d just had extramarital sex on a storage room table while wearing black heels.
“I’m sorry about the accommodations.”
“I guess it worked just fine,” she said, and they both laughed again, wheezing with stupid amusement until tears leaked from her eyes.
When they quieted, he cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to think I thought . . . I bought the condoms just in case. Because I didn’t want to be an idiot. Not because I thought we’d . . .”
“I know. Was it strange?”
He turned toward her, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Buying condoms,” she said. “Not . . .”
She waved a hand down their bodies. “This.”
“Oh! Yes. Like being seventeen again. I was sure everyone was watching. I took off my wedding ring.” He raised his hand to show a pale indentation on his ring finger. “Which was stupid in a number of ways, I guess. As if married people never use condoms.”
She wondered then if Gary had used protection with Juliette. But it was an idle thought. Evelyn didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care about anything but this.
She rubbed her thumb over her own ring. It hadn’t even occurred to her to take off her wedding band for this. Why bother? “I’m glad you thought of the condoms. That was nice. This was nice.”
His forehead creased. “I didn’t even take care of you,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“Next time,” she said, and he smiled with the joy of a little boy offered a treat.
“Next time?”
She smiled back. “Definitely.” Funny, but she didn’t care that she hadn’t had an orgasm. Even without, it was the hottest sex she’d ever had. If he thought she wasn’t coming back for more, he was a fool. An adorable fool. “But maybe you could put a couch back here or something.”
“That might be a good idea. We have one in the basement we never use. I could bring it in.” He swept a stray lock of hair off her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“You didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He blushed, his cheeks turning the sweetest shade of pink. “No, not that. I meant . . . emotionally.”
“Honestly?” When he nodded, she shrugged. “I’m fine. In fact, I kind of feel like that was one of the best things I’ve ever done.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m having a similar thought. But I feel guilty as hell too.”
“About your wife?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to reassure him. Tell him why Juliette didn’t matter. But she could never tell him that. He thought Evelyn had just wandered into his gallery, and if he learned the truth, he’d think she was some sort of crazed stalker. But it wasn’t like that with him, not anymore.
Evelyn, After: A Novel Page 13