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Brant glances at me, and there’s a moment of hesitation where he turns something over in his mind. "Hank, if I do call, or if someone else calls pretending to be me, don't listen to my directives unless I verify my identity with a code word. I don't care if I'm standing in front of you, don't do what I say unless I verify it with the word."
“What's the code?" If the request seems odd, Hank doesn’t show it.
"Sheila."
"Got it."
"Also, take instructions from Layana Fairmont, should I be incapacitated for any reason."
"I don't really feel comfortable taking orders from someone who is not a BSX employee, Mr. Sharp."
"This is a unique situation. Just until we get this sorted out."
The man sighs, and the sound is thick with his feelings on the subject. "Does she have a code word also?"
I spoke up so my voice will be caught by the microphone. "I'll use the same word, just to keep things simple."
"Okay. Anything else, Mr. Sharp?" The emphasis on the Sharp name makes his wariness of me clear. I grin at the snub and reach over, running a hand over the back of Brant's neck.
"That's it. Thanks, Hank." He ends the call and leans into my hand. He says nothing as he accelerates down the 280.
* * *
That night, we lay in bed, his body curled around mine, the heat of his skin keeping me warm against the sateen sheets. The television’s volume is barely audible, and this is the fourth episode ofBig Bang Theorythat has played. I can feel his worry, it’s in the rapid thump of his heartbeat and the rigid muscles of his forearms, cupping me tight to his chest. His brain is working overtime, ticking through all of the possibilities of what might have happened without his knowledge.
"Have I cheated on you?" His voice is soft against my neck, and there is a thread of hope in it that I'm asleep.
I roll in his arms and look up into his face. "Never."
"But as Lee… I never—”
I lean forward and kiss him. "You did, but it wasn't cheating."
"Don't justify it. If I kissed, touched other women, then I was unfaithful to you."
"I did some pretty despicable things to win you over," I say. "Things I'm not proud of."
An interesting mix of jealousy and regret darkens his face. "With other men?"
I glare at him. “I would never,” I swore.
Relief sweeps over his face and it’s his turn to steal a kiss, this one deeper, his hands pulling me atop him as he rolls us over. “You know," he says hoarsely and slides his hands down my back and cups the meat of my ass, squeezing hard. "There were so many nights I watched you sleep and wondered if you were cheating. I kept trying to figure out what you were keeping from me."
I pull back and sit up, studying his face in the flickering light from the television. "What? You never said anything to me."
He let out a wry chuckle. "What would I have said? Accused you of cheating?"
“Yes.” I nod. “That's exactly what you should have done. I can't believe you didn't confront me." I cross my arms over my chest, a little hurt over the omission. We’ve always been so forthright and honest. Well … my arms sag a little. I did kind of hide an entire side of my life—and his mental health—to myself for years. I had no right to be mad about him keeping his concerns to himself.
“And what would you have said to me, if I had confronted you?”
I wince. “Okay, so maybe it was good that you didn’t. I mean, not that I would have lied to you but—”
“You would have lied to me.”
“I—I wouldn't have lost you over it. It would have just forced the issue to the forefront sooner.”
"I didn't bring it up because I didn’t want to lose you." He reaches up and gently brushes a bit of hair away from my cheek. His brow furrows as he pulls me down to his chest, and his need is hard against me. "I was worried," he whispers, "that you might—"
