Every Last Secret(11)

“Off?” Matt sat on the toilet, his pants around his ankles, and peered at me through the open door. “She seems nice.”

I snorted. “Nice? Matt, you can’t take everyone at face value. You don’t know women like that. They have nothing to do all day but cause trouble.” Which was one of the reasons I had always worked. Some women enjoyed sitting at home, but I didn’t. I needed interaction. Friendships. Relationships. My own identity. Otherwise, there was no security blanket. No fallback plan. I refused to be held hostage in a marriage without knowing and exploring my other options. My mother had taught me that. She’d realized that a better life existed for her, and she’d put a plan into place and then taken it, leaving her alcoholic husband and daughter behind and driving three states over to live in a McMansion with an attorney she’d met through a classified ad. I would have liked her to bring me, but she did a full upgrade and now posts photos on Facebook under her new name, with her stepdaughter, Aspen vacations, and quotes about Jesus. I friended her under a fake account and now follow the entire family. I’ve considered seducing her husband but haven’t had the energy or enough ill motivation. I’ve kept the possibility as a delicious late-night snack I might one day consume.

“Well, I like them.” Matt nudged the door closed with his toe, not waiting for a response.

Of course he did. He liked everyone, which was one of the reasons he needed me in his life—to point out shortcomings where they existed. Not that the Winthorpes had many. I put toothpaste on my brush and started on my teeth, thinking over the evening. I’d spent most of it looking for flaws in Cat, which had been an annoyingly arduous task. Quite frankly, she was prettier than I was. Younger. More delicate. But my body was better than hers. She had almost no muscle tone and probably skipped weight training altogether.

I ran my toothbrush under the water and remembered the beautiful moment this week when I’d bent over to grab my purse on the way out of William’s office. I’d glanced up, catching his gaze on my butt, and his mouth had curved into a smile, his cheeks pinking as he had glanced away. Tonight, I’d given him multiple opportunities to look, but he’d remained focused on Cat.

The toilet flushed, and I pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth and leaned forward, spitting into the sink.

Five minutes later, I lay next to Matt and stared up at the coffered ceilings, the light from the television dancing across their details. A late-night comedian delivered a punch line about the royal family, and Matt laughed.

Moving into this neighborhood could be monumental. The women who lived inside these gates all partied together, shopped together, vacationed together. And already, things were clicking into place. I had a job with one of the most promising tech companies in Silicon Valley. An office adjacent to William Winthorpe’s. Thanks to the power outage, we’d just spent two hours bonding with them. We’d made dinner plans for next week. The proximity that our houses would grant and the potential social introductions from Cat could be the keys to the kingdom I deserved to live in.

Except that now, sinking into our soft bed, I was overwhelmed by the discrepancies between us. Cat and me. William and Matt. Their gorgeous showcase mansion and our ugly foreclosure.

Matt coughed, and I reminded myself of all his good traits. He bought me this house. He made me look less risky to a wife like Cat, who might otherwise see me as a threat. And if he managed to build a friendship with William Winthorpe, there would be many additional possibilities.

I turned toward Matt and moved closer, fitting my body into the side of his, my arm stealing around his chest. He patted my hand, his eyes already beginning to sag with sleep, and I felt a wave of deep affection for the man who loved me so much.

I’d upgrade from him at some point, but not yet.





CHAPTER 5

CAT

The neighbors had left, and William’s legs were tangled with mine, my head in the crook of his shoulder. I ran my hand along his stomach, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “What did you think of them?”

“They were fine,” he said, the words elongated by a yawn. “Better than the Bakers.”

Better than the Bakers. I flicked back through the events of the night. My distrust of Neena had mellowed as the night had gone on, the transition heavily aided by alcohol. She’d been entertaining to watch and had a crass humor that was funny, if not a little bitchy at times. She’d gotten sharper with her husband as the night had progressed, growing more bossy with each drink. But that was how some couples communicated. Not everyone was like us. I was reminded of that each time I visited my parents, their forty-year marriage no weaker despite their constant fights.

“Is that what she’s like at work? Coy and snarky?” I ran my hand over his upper abs and mimicked the pursed-lip pout that Neena had adopted at several moments during the night.

He chuckled and ran his hand over the top of my head, smoothing his fingers through my hair. “More like a stiff and efficient cheerleader. Rah, rah, rah, fill out this questionnaire about your feelings, rah, rah, rah.”

I snorted and scooted farther up his chest until our faces were aligned. “If I recall correctly, you have a thing for cheerleaders.” I brushed my lips teasingly over his. “Should I be worried?”

His hands tightened on my waist, and a thrill of pleasure lit through me at the glow of arousal that hit his eyes. “Still got that uniform from high school?”