Page 31 of Unforgivable
She pushes a strand of hair off her face. Her very pretty face. Not beautiful, but youthful kind of pretty.
“Maybe you could do it,” I blurt.
She was dipping a piece of flatbread in some kind of dip. She brought it to her mouth, bit the corner of it with her perfect white teeth. “Do what?”
“Have an affair with Jack.” I moved forward, my heart racing. “Not literally, obviously, but if you could flirt with him, in front of her, do the whole thing—”
“The whole thing?”
“You know, go all out! A big seduction number! It’s just for show. Bronwyn is really insecure. If she thinks Jack’s eye is roving, she’ll bail. I know she will.”
She laughs. “You’re so funny, Laura! So, when would I do this grand seduction number? Do I come to your house? Jump out of a cake? Do I get to wear suspenders?”
“They’re coming to the opening. Jack, Charlie and Bronwyn. You could give Bronwyn a show!”
“You want me to flirt with Jack at the opening.”
“In front of Bronwyn.”
“Give her a show.”
“Yes, please.”
She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! Please! Do it! Tell me you’ll do it!”
“It’s a little weird, I won’t lie, but okay, look you gave me the job and I’m super grateful so…why not? If that’s what you want, boss…”
I rub my hands over my face. “Thank you. Thank you. No, wait, won’t Dexter mind?”
She shrugs. “Dexter won’t mind. He’s used to me flirting. He says flirting is just non-verbal communication for me. Like morse code. Do you want another round?” She holds up her empty glass. “I’ll get this one.”
FOURTEEN
“Shit.”
I was trying to be quiet, but I’ve stubbed my toe. I hop on one foot and pull off my shoe. The house is dark except for the light on the porch and a lamp upstairs on the landing. I drop the keys twice before I manage to get the door open. I take my shoes off and lurch up the stairs, holding onto the banister for balance. As I pass the archway I see the remnants of dinner still on the dining room table, and it dawns on me that Bronwyn is doing it on purpose. That she is reclaiming her previous rightful place and putting me firmly in mine. She is the mistress of his house, and I am the spinster friend who hangs around because they’ve adopted me, and I’m to be grateful for that, and also understand I need to work for it.
You’re in the wrong bed.
The words pop into my mind. I don’t want them there, but I know why they’re there. They are whispering to me what I’ve always known, deep down. That I am the usurper, and who did I think I was? Bronwyn is back. Thank you for your help. You can go now.
Do you love me like you loved her?
I still remember the first time Jack and I kissed. I was walking out of Charlie’s room, having just put her to sleep, and he had been watching me from the doorway. When I reached him, he pulled me away from the door and pressed me against the wall with his body. His mouth tasted of Scotch and salt. I woke up next to him the next morning and I was so happy I was dizzy. And that was it. We were together after that.
The first time we went out together, as couple, was to a barbecue at his friend Mike’s house. It was summer, I was wearing a white wrap dress with a pattern of small flowers all over, and white sandals with a thin leather strap that wrapped twice around my ankles. It was a complete change from my usual attire, but it felt great. I felt grown up, with Charlie holding onto the hem of my dress and Jack bringing me a fresh ice-tea whenever he caught my empty glass. This was my family. It was my life now.
I was bringing some empty beer bottles from the backyard into the kitchen when I saw Jack and Mike talking on the porch. Instinctively, I made my movements quiet, put the bottles down from my arm so they wouldn’t make a sound.
“You’re sure about this?” Mike said.
Jack was smoking a cigarette, one that he’d rolled himself. He’d picked up the habit after Bronwyn left, although he gave it up again after a few months. I watched him pick off a strand of tobacco from the tip of his tongue, pondering his reply, and I waited for it with my heart beating too fast.
“It feels good not to be alone anymore, what can I say? And Charlie loves her.”
“Of course Charlie loves her. She’s her babysitter. She’s nice enough, but she’s not Bronwyn, Jack.”