Page 45 of The Bad Husband

“You’re welcome,” he says, cold. “I hope you feel better.”

“I certainly do. The food helped,” I add.

My mouth would fall open if I afforded to look like a silly clown.

Has she just told him my story? Is she that dumb?

She was all territorial and suspicious with me, and now he seems to be aware of what has gone on between her and me.

He turns to her, with the same glacier floating on an ocean of indifference look on his face while she peers at him like a lost puppy.

“Something happened at the club?” she asks quietly, trying too hard to create a moment of intimacy and make herself into a confidant.

Weird moment.

He looks at her as if weighing an answer.

“No, everything’s fine.”

His voice is dry, his presence lackluster.

Why is he here?

“Do you want to eat something?” she asks him, and that would be something worth watching, but I realize it’s time for me to leave.

I push off my seat, and his eyes slide to me.

“I’m good,” he says to her. “Put on some clothes and come with me,” he murmurs, and her face lights up. “There’s a party at the club.”

She forgets about me in a second, spins around, and off she goes.

He watches her walk away before he turns to me, a hand concealed in his pocket.

His eyes keep me in place as he walks straight to me, when her voice rings outside again.

She shows up at the door.

“Do you want me to wear that red dress you like?”

A pinch of jealousy feels like chalk on my lips.

It’s a normal dialogue between two married people. And yet it feels like a fork in my eye.

He pivots quickly as if he intends to go to the refrigerator, and I watch him powerlessly as he studies her.

“Sure,” he says dismissively.

Just as she pulls away for the second time, he changes his direction, retrieves his hand from his pocket, and slides something small and shiny across the counter.

“Put this back on,” he orders me quietly, and I catch the little object and immediately bring my hand to my ear.

Oh, crap. My earring. I didn’t realize it was missing. Did she? I never saw her stare at my ear.

Which side of my face was visible to her?

What if she did notice that I was missing an earring?

Before I have the chance to make a slideshow with all the scenarios spinning in my head, he lowers his hand under the counter, brushes my thigh in the process, sweeps something off the frame, and drops his hand into his pocket again.