Page 72 of The Bad Husband

Frankie witnesses the exchange before inviting me to his car. It’s a nice vintage ride.

This must’ve cost a pretty penny, and I glance at him twice. He’s casual about sliding in.

No boasting about it.

No trying to impress me, although the car may contribute to his success with the ladies.

I suddenly feel like an impostor.

It was easier when I didn’t know stuff about him. I get less and less enthusiastic about the idea as I learn more about him.

I’m sure he wouldn’t be heartbroken if I took a rain check. Frankly, I’m sure he owed Keira a favor, and that’s why he said yes to the idea of me.

He sets his car in motion, and we slide past Damon’s ride like it’s nothing to us.

It might be nothing to him, but a kernel of discomfort grows in my chest.

I owe nothing to Damon. And there’s nothing he can do to me. He left the house with the woman who happens to be his wife.

Until we get rid of the generic answers and he helps me understand what’s going on between him and that woman, I have no reason to manage his sensibilities when it comes to other men.

Hooking up with Frankie would make Henrietta stop harassing me. It would probably stir her husband up, but that’s his problem, not mine.

Frankie and I are making small talk.

I learn that he owned a bar at some point, yet he closed it since it was too much work and responsibility.

Before that, he dropped out of college. He thought it was a waste of time.

I also learned he’s older than I thought. I was under the impression that he’s close to my age. Early twenties.

He’s twenty-eight.

All right. That explains a lot. The car. His work experience. His experience with pleasing women.

As the conversation steers away from dating, and in no way becomes flirtatious, it dawns on me we both know that nothing will happen between us tonight.

Perhaps never.

There isn’t the slightest hint that he might be attracted to me. And while I find him attractive, I can’t say I’m interested in sleeping with him.

We’re two people set up by a friend, and things will probably never evolve beyond this point.

“You live at Damon West’s house,” he says as he follows my directions and the gate to Damon’s estate looms in the distance.

“Uh… Yes. I thought you knew that.”

He rolls the car to a stop a few yards away from the gate and turns the engine off, not willing to move any closer.

“No, I did not.”

“Do you know him?” I ask, shifting in my seat to face him.

Smiling, he looks away.

I don’t know what that knowing smile means.

“No, not really. I know of him. Everybody knows of him in this town. He’s sort of a legend.”