Hubby Cheats Across The Hall

It was five in the morning, and the living room lights were still off.

I sat on the couch with a blanket draped over my knees, never pulled up, never tucked in. From two o'clock until now, I'd shifted position seven times, counting the seconds off the wall clock.

The lock clicked.

Alan pushed the door open. When he saw me, he stopped for a beat.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I asked, "Where were you?"

He bent down to change out of his shoes, his voice carrying across half the living room, flat as if he were reporting on a case file. "Lyndis's ex-husband contacted her. She was scared he might show up at her door, so I went over to keep an eye on things."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"You were asleep."

I smiled, my mouth pulling a little sour at the corners. "I was up all night."

He paused mid-motion, then kept walking in anyway.

My eyes landed on the shoes he'd left by the entryway. I couldn't even make out their color on the soles anymore. From our door to the elevator, and the elevator to hers, the distance was under seventeen feet. However many times he'd walked back and forth, the soles had picked up just as much hallway dust.

"Can you not be so sensitive about this?" He walked over to the coffee table and picked up my glass to take a sip of water.

"You were the one who told me to take her case in the first place. She's your best friend, and she's my client. I'm her lawyer. Looking out for her falls within my job description."

He said it smoothly, like he'd rehearsed it a hundred times.

I looked at his hair, still half damp, the ends clinging faintly to the back of his neck.

Why would he need to shower at her place?

The words stuck in my throat and never came out.

He seemed to sense something and raked a hand through his hair before I could ask, speaking first. "Water splashed on me by accident."

That lie was so friggin bad.

He used to catch on to what I was thinking just as fast.

Once, before I'd even said what I wanted to eat, he'd already had his phone out. "They've got a table free tonight. Wasn't that the place you wanted to try the other day?"

On a rainy day when I'd forgotten my umbrella, his call had come through the second I reached the door. "Don't come out yet. You'll get wet. I'm almost there."

The predawn air seeped in through the gap in the balcony door, thin and cold. It filled my chest until I could barely catch my breath.

His tone suddenly softened. "I've got a hearing today, so let me shower first. It's still early, go lie down since you're up. Don't think too much."

He said it and turned toward the bathroom.

He passed by me, and I caught a gust of something in his wake.

Lemongrass, mixed with a trace of soap.

The same scent as the body wash we kept at home.

I hadn't set foot in the unit across the hall since I'd rented it to Lyndis Lamberg. Even when I saw that post of hers, "This house is missing a man," I'd caught myself scrambling for excuses.

Alan had to go over there often to talk through her case. Maybe she'd bought the same brand of slippers just for his convenience.

But the body wash?

By the time Alan came back out, he'd changed into a suit, his hair blown dry, his tie knotted straight. He hesitated, seeing me still sitting in the living room.

"Mom's coming over today. If you don't feel like cooking, we can take her out instead. Just pick somewhere and let me know."

The door clicked shut behind him.

My mother didn't live far from us. She'd come by a few days every month to cook for me.

She'd called the night before to let me and Alan know, and he'd nodded along. "Sure, Mom. I'll try to get home early tomorrow."

On my way back from grocery shopping after work, I spotted her from a distance, sitting on a bench in the courtyard garden with Mrs. Larsen from upstairs.

Mrs. Larsen had a voice sharp enough to carry through several trees.

"Your son-in-law really has it made, doesn't he? A cozy setup with his wife, and he's keeping another one right across the hall. Like some rich man out of an old story, two wives living under the same roof."

My mother's face went pale. "What are you talking about? That's just the tenant across the hall."

"Tenant? A woman who wanders over in her nightgown every day and doesn't come out until midnight, and you call that a tenant?"

My mother swatted at the air near her twice, making a show of clicking her tongue. "Don't say such things, don't say such things. I should get back; the food's probably ready."

She hurried off, stumbling a couple of times, nearly losing her footing.

I wanted to go after her. Instead, I stood frozen where I was.