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We’ll talk about it tomorrow.
That was the deal on Monday. But then, tomorrow comes and goes. Dean has been working so late most nights that he sleeps half the day away while I’m busy entertaining Abby during her summer break with trips to the library, the children’s museum, and playdates with my sister.
Before I know it, five full days have gone by since the day Dean and I had sex, and every passing moment starts to feel like hands tightening around my throat.
Caleb and I haven’t spoken about the incident at all. Our conversations mainly revolve around Abby and his father’s case. It feels wrong to talk about this whole thing without Dean, and I think some part of us is afraid to discuss it.
Each night, he crawls into bed next to me, and the truth of it all—he was intimate with a man,and I slept with someone else—hangs over us like a cloud.
On top of that, we’re smack-dab in the middle of the two-week wait, which means it’s almost time to test again. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the overwhelming weight of that on my shoulders. The situation with Dean has been a welcome distraction from the baby-making endeavors.
Grabbing my calendar to count the days, I notice an event scribbled under today’s date—Caleb’s mother’s charity auction.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
Quickly, I text Caleb.
Your mother’s charity function is tonight.
He answers back almost immediately.
Dammit. I forgot about that.
Can we skip it?
I think it would mean a lot to her to have us all there together. Can your sister watch Abby?
I’m sure she can.
Neither of us texts for a moment, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. He’s the one who says it first.
We should bring Dean.
I agree.
Will you talk to him?
Yeah.
Abby is playing out back with her dolls in the playhouse. Watching her through the window, I send a quick text to my sister, asking her to babysit tonight, and she immediately replies with a yes. After checking my hair in the reflection on the microwave, I head out back to knock on Dean’s door.
“Abby, I’m going to talk to Dean. Stay here, okay?” I say as I pass her in the yard.
“Can I come?” she replies enthusiastically.
“Not this time,” I say. “Stay here.”
With a pout, she settles back on the grass. Dolls in hand, she quickly distracts herself with whatever she is playing. My knuckles rap against his door, and I take a deep breath, realizing this is the first time I’ve really faced him since theincident.
He opens the door, looking freshly showered in nothing but a pair of tight black jeans. His buzz-cut hair is still wet, droplets cascading down his temples as he uses a towel to wipe them away.
“Hey,” he says with a hint of a smile.
“Hey,” I reply in a sort of dreamy, flirtatious way.
His eyes dance across the yard as he notices Abby playing outside, a clear sign that we won’t be doing anything inappropriate today.
“What’s up?” he asks, obviously wondering why I’m here.
