Page 43 of The Bad Husband

She’s pointing to my skintight dress.

“He and five hundred other people. I don’t think he looked at me, though.”

I shift my focus to the burger.

Saved by another bite, I chew slowly and ponder what to do next.

“I was trying to get a date,” I say as the edge of her stare gives me blisters.

“Not with him, I hope,” she tosses at me, a little dark, a pinch humorous.

I dismiss her assumption with a faint gesture, gently suggesting how ridiculous she is.

“It’s a guy from Keira’s workplace. Where she used to work, actually.”

Although I’m telling her the truth, taking another sip of water way too quickly after finishing saying that makes me look guilty.

She leans onto the counter, her head propped on her hand, her elbow pressed against the surface.

“Tell me more.”

“It’s a guy.”

“I got that.”

“He’s not a good guy, and I’ve got a better choice.”

I try to distract with all that information.

“But I decided to go with my second choice, and only then, if things don’t work out, will I mess with the good guy.”

“Interesting. You have morals.”

Unlike you.

“Yes, I do have morals. I don’t want to mess with the good guy. I’m leaving in a few short weeks, and I don’t want to break his heart.”

I sound so sincere that her face glows with a smile. She lifts an eyebrow at me.

“My, my. So what happened to the bad guy?” she asks, more engrossed in my story than ever.

“He came down with the flu.” I tilt my shoulders. “I don’t know. He called in.”

She tilts her head to the side and looks at me through her eyelashes. Her attitude makes me think she knows a lot more about what happened tonight than she had led me to believe, and she’s just playing her part, trying to make me feel bad about it and snap. Confess everything, pack up my shit, and move out.

That idea keeps circling back.

If it’s real and it’s not only happening in my imagination, then this is the ploy I thought it was.

“Are we done here?” I ask, unfazed, before taking another bite. “I don’t enjoy your questioning in the slightest,” I go on, signaling to her that it’s time for her to back off.

I barely swallow my last bit of food and a car roars outside. Only one car engine that I know of has that deep, raspy sound, and it happens that I was in that car tonight.

I stay still, focused on the woman in front of me.

If she and her husband have been plotting all this, this might be the perfect time to find out.

She slides off her seat, ties the belt over her short robe, and heads to the lobby.