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I knew I had figured it out, and I also knew we were in the same boat. Neither of us had planned on falling in love with each other, yet we had.
Man, I’d been a dick. My sweet wife was walking around with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and all I could think about was our marriage and myself. It made sense that she wanted to get away. I just wished she wanted to get away with me instead of by herself. I wanted her to trust me and need me, so much so that I had given her access to my accounts, but I would have to understand.
The anger roaring through me this morning slowly began to fade away, and guilt and sadness filled its space. If only she had come to me. I would have made sure everything was taken care of. I would have made sure she had nothing to worry about. She was my wife, and I wanted to take care of her.
Grabbing my phone from the counter, I texted her even though I was sure she wouldn’t get it until she got off the plane.
Me: I get it, Angel. I’m here for you. Come home when you’re ready. I’ll be here.
Then I got my keys and took the paperwork before I locked up and headed toward the Banks’ residence.
If my wife needed time away, she was going to get it, but when she got back, I was going to make sure everything was taken care of for her.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up at the Banks’ house. It was still early, yet I saw a figure curled up on the front porch swing.
When I got out of my car, the figure sat up and looked back at me.
It was my wife.
No.
Not my Allison. It was her sister, Addison.
She was different from Allison even though they looked identical. She was quiet, always hiding her glasses behind a book. She wore her hair swept to the side in a long braid, and dressed in what should have been a very unattractive pair of tights and a long, baggy top.
Except nothing was unattractive about her clothing to me. I looked her up and down, and slowly, my cock began to rise. Shocked, I used the paperwork to cover my stiffy as I made my way up the few steps to the front porch.
I was on a fucked-up streak. I couldn’t get it up and keep it hard for my wife anymore, but I could for this woman—who, of course, looked exactly like my wife.
She was rounder than Allison but not by much. Her hips looked fuller, and her breasts, though hidden behind her baggy shirt, seemed fuller. She wasn’t wearing a bra; I could tell by the obvious points sticking out against her shirt.
She looked so innocent, kind of like my angel after we married, but she wasn’t my wife. My wife was on her way to Paris to get away.
“Hey, Addison,” I said as I stepped up onto the porch.
Her eyes were wide as if she was surprised to see me, and the closer I got to her, the stiffer her shoulders grew. Her eyes crawled across my suit, dipping from my neck and over my chest as she took me in. A dreamy look touched her face before her eyes clashed with mine yet again.
She looked sad.
Her dad.
Obviously, she was sad over her father and his prognosis.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded but didn’t speak.
“Allison asked me to bring you this paperwork. It’s about your dad. It’s a few insurance documents and such.”
Again, she nodded, reaching out for the papers with a delicate hand.
“Where’s Allison?” Her voice was small and soft, sending another strange wave of want over me.
I didn’t understand it, but I found myself attracted to Addison. It was beyond wrong.
Then her question sank in, and my jaw tightened.
Without answering her question, I asked one of my own. “Can I ask you something?”
