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Silence followed, and it was worse than the hints of voices. Lying back down in the dark, she hurt like she hadn’t hurt in a long time. Hurt in a way she’d never hurt before.
Like a woman whose man was being unfaithful to her.
She’d suspected once that Peter was having something on the side with a woman who was in medical school with him. She’d been bothered to the point of finally asking him about it. And when he told her that the woman had offered, but he hadn’t wanted to screw up his marriage, she’d been gratified. But never, in all of those moments combined, had she felt anything like the pain she was feeling right now, lying there alone in her bed.
She’d never been a jealous person, but for a few seconds there, she hated the woman in the other room, whoever she was.
She spent another few moments trying to figure out who it was. Someone from work? Had to be... Greg didn’t really do a lot outside of the hospital. Not that she knew.
She didn’t want to know who it was. Or what they were doing. It had been quiet for a while. Had they gone back to his room? Was he slowly undressing her? Telling her how beautiful each part of her body was to him? With that golden glint lighting up his eyes?
Were her hands running through the sandy curls on his head? Or the ones further down?
Tears pooled in her eyes and Elaina didn’t fight them. All those years she’d lived with Wood she’d hoped that he’d bring someone home, that there’d be a woman in his bed occasionally. She’d needed him to live his life—and to feel like their home was home to him.
She’d never thought about what the woman would be getting. And not getting. Until Cassie had come into the picture. She’d had moments of unease then. Maybe even some envy. But she’d been glad for Wood.
Why couldn’t she be glad for Greg?
There. There it was again. A higher lilt. They were still in the living ro
om.
After all that silence?
Tea. She needed tea.
Could make noise getting up, open her door loudly, slowly, so they’d have plenty of time to make themselves decent. She could apologize, head to the kitchen.
And knowing she was awake, they’d at least vacate the living room, wouldn’t they?
She had to be up for work in less than five hours. Even if Greg wasn’t in the living room with his lover, she should get some tea.
Getting off the bed, Elaina pulled on her longer silk robe over her nightie, as opposed to the shorter one she usually preferred, tied it around her waist, not trying to be quiet about moving around her room. Just for good measure, she moved the armchair under the window, adjusting it, making noise.
And then she went to the door.
She intended to avoid looking toward the couch as she walked through the back portion of the large living room, toward a light switch.
But the glow in her peripheral vision drew her attention.
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” In sweat shorts and a T-shirt, Greg had been lounged in a corner of the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed, but he sat up as he saw her.
Sat up alone, she could see by the soft glow of the accent lighting she’d just switched on—sconces along the wall.
She heard again the voice that had awoken her.
And saw the source.
Not a flesh-and-blood woman.
Not even a young woman.
The voice was coming from the flat screen mounted to the wall.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re watching television!” The surprise in Elaina’s voice wasn’t expected. Greg figured she’d come out because the television had woken her, though he always kept the volume as low as he could and still make out enough of the words to follow whatever meaningless show he had on.
