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22
WYATT
My cell was ringing in the distance, but I was too warm with my angel in my arms to move to answer it. I hoped it would stop ringing, but after several rings, I leaned over, snatched my cell from the table, and answered.
“Hello,” I rasped into the phone.
“Hey, babe. It’s me.”
One of my eyes opened when Allison’s voice filled the line. Confusion swept over me. How was she calling me if she was still in the bed beside me?
Before responding, I reached out, expecting to feel the bed empty beside me. But my fingers caressed warm flesh. I slid my palm along her hip, and a content sigh filled my bedroom.
If she was on the phone, who was in my bed?
I jumped up, taking in my sleeping wife on her side of the bed.
“Allison?” I asked the person on the other end of the line.
“Yeah?”
“You’re calling me,” I stated the obvious.
She laughed, a touch of aggravation in her voice. “Way to point out the obvious, Wyatt.”
“Where are you?” I asked, sure that I was losing my mind.
“I’m still in Paris. I’m heading home today, so I wanted to call to see if you could have a car pick me up from the airport.”
I didn’t respond.
I couldn’t.
Realization was slowly starting to seep in, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.
I had been duped.
“Hello?” she asked annoyed. “Are you even listening to me? I said I need a car.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah. I’ll have someone pick you up.”
Without waiting for her to respond, I hung up and set my phone back on the table.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman in my bed. Obviously, Addison was the twin in my bed. She had come to my house in the middle of the night, and we had made love. But that couldn’t be right because the woman I made love to the night before had been the same woman with me in Bora Bora. I was sure of it.
The way she felt. Her sounds. Her touches. It had all been the same. It was like reliving our moment in the bungalow all over again in my bed.
Standing there, I looked down at her as she slept. The curve of her cheek, her pouty lips. Her small nose and the way her light lashes lay against her cheeks. My eyes moved down, taking in her bare shoulders and breasts before landing on her tiny stomach, the little bit of bloat from the baby rounding out her navel a little more than usual.
My knees went weak.
It was definitely Addison in my bed. It had definitely been Addison in Bora Bora, as well.
How could I have missed such obvious signs?
Her sweetness and enjoyment of the island when I knew Allison would have hated missing Paris.
Her giving nature while we were in paradise when I had always known Allison was a self-centered bitch.
