Slip of the Tongue (9 page)

My cheeks warm. I can barely form a thought that doesn’t involve me hurling curse words. I leave the pile where it is and charge to the foot of the bed. “Where were you tonight?”

He turns a page. “I told you. The hospital.”

The smell is trapped in my nostrils. I swipe my nose hard. “Where else?”

He glances up. “I went there from work, then I came home. I was watching TV for a while before you got here.” He cocks his head. “Why?”

I try to calm my breathing by inhaling deeply. He’s turning me into someone I don’t recognize—a suspicious wife. My friends and co-workers have their husbands on short leashes, and I’ve never understood why. Is this what happens if you don’t watch them closely? “I’ve had a weird day,” I say.

This is the part where he puts down his book and asks why. Then takes me in his arms and assures me I’m the only girl for him—now, and always.

“Well . . .” His eyes drift to the floor at my feet while he furrows his brows, as if he’s thinking much too hard about his next move. He hesitates so long, the silence between us becomes awkward. “This is a weird city,” he finally says and looks back at the page.

It must be an interesting book. I’m tempted to ask what it’s about that it’s worth more of his attention than his own wife. Or just skip the whole passive-aggressive route and accuse him of fucking around behind my back. What would he say to that?

This paranoia is new to me, just like his attitude. I don’t like it. I want things to go back to the way they were. “I already took the dry cleaning,” I say evenly.

“I know.”

“Your clothes from last night were pretty dirty. And now there’s more.”

“I get a few passes, don’t I? I’m always picking up your stuff.”

I narrow my eyes. It’s only half true. He likes things tidy. It’s not as though I leave a mess everywhere I go, though. I’d rather leave messes for the morning, but by morning, the messes are already gone. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say.

Somehow, he still seems to be reading.

“Nathan.”

He looks up again and makes a move like he’s going to put his book down. But he doesn’t. I see a flash of indecision, and then his expression clears. “What?”

My stomach fills with butterflies. We promised each other, I want to say. If you were tempted to act on something, you were supposed to tell me. And now, I’m the one who’s tempted. If Finn had just kissed me and not said it aloud—would I have stopped him? I don’t know. Which means I need to tell Nathan about it. That was our deal. It’s not so easy, though. How do I tell the person I love most in the world that he’s failing me? And that another man is making it better? Maybe Nathan tried to come to me and couldn’t. We’d made it sound so easy.

“What is it?” he asks. “There’s a ton of detail in this book. I need to concentrate.”

“Never mind.” I turn away and slam the bathroom door shut behind me. In the shower, my body shakes. Not because of what Nathan said, but because he said it at all. He doesn’t shut me out, snap at me, or leave the room when I enter.

I’m scared.

I wait for him to come in and apologize, but he doesn’t. When I get out, he’s already asleep, an hour earlier than usual. I climb into bed, but I might as well be somewhere else for all he notices.

Maybe even in the next apartment.

SEVEN

I’m calmer when I wake. Having gone to bed so early, Nathan left before I was even out of bed, which is uncommon. I take Ginger downstairs and find myself in a winter wonderland. Everything is freshly powdered. It’s the season’s first snowfall, and the air is alive. It used to excite me, but a couple years ago, I slipped and twisted my ankle on an ice patch. Now I wear rain boots to and from work. Carrying an extra pair of shoes annoys me. The snow only stays white for a day anyway. Then it turns putrid and asphalt-gray.

Ginger sniffs a shrub with extraordinary fascination. She stops, looks around the street, and then returns to investigating. I should hire her out to the police department.
Or have her trail Nathan
, I think, pulling my coat closer around me. It’s only the third time that morning I’ve thought of the lipstick stain and the smoky suit.

“Come on, girl,” I say. “Hurry up.”

She marks the bush, but that’s all. Nathan must’ve taken her out already.

I pull her back toward the building, where I spot a woman and young girl at the entrance. They both wear matching pink caps and have long, blond curls. With her free one, the woman is punching a number on the entry keypad over and over. “What the hell is wrong with this thing?”

“Hello?” I ask.

She turns around. Her smile is so big, I could count all of her teeth. “Hi,” she says. “Do you live here?”

The girl, in a huge puffy coat, looks at me. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Ginger.” Ginger, waiting patiently, hears her name and begins to wag her tail. “You can pet her.”

Her hand looks white and small in Ginger’s red fur.

“Would you mind letting us in?” the woman asks. “We live here, but they keypad doesn’t seem to work.”

“It probably froze last night.” I pull out my key and let them in. Warmth welcomes us like a hug. “At least the common spaces are heated.”

“It’s a beautiful building.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know why I said that. It’s not like I have any more claim over the place than she does. I pull Ginger to the elevator and when it arrives, I select the sixth floor. They get on a second after.

“Can I push the button?” the girl asks, and then frowns at the panel. “Never mind. She already did.”

“Just pick another one above six,” the woman says, winking at me. “Live outside the law, baby.”

“You live on six?” I ask. I’m not on a first-name basis with all my neighbors, but I don’t recognize them.

“Just moved in. I told my husband, if we’re moving to the city, you damn well better believe we’re getting a nice place. I could do the starving artist thing in my twenties, but I’m a thirty-two year old mother now. I refuse to wrestle rats for food.”

“
Mom
?” the girl asks, her voice high-pitched.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” she enthuses. “There are no rats.”

“Well—” I start.

The woman cuts a finger across her throat and shakes her head. She knows. Rats generally stick to the underground, but I’ve seen a mouse or two in my time at the apartment. Or three. We share a smile as the doors open.

The woman heads down the hallway with her child as I pull Ginger along. She stops at 6A. I look between the door and her. She’s knocking.

I draw my eyebrows in. She’s knocking? The hallway no longer feels warm. My fingers are like little icicles, so I stick one hand under an armpit, keeping Ginger close with the other. Should I keep walking or say something? How do I ask her if she’s confused about where she lives without offending her?

“Should we hide?” the girl asks.

“Yes, let’s.” They both move out of the way of the peephole, so it’s just me standing there, stuck to the spot.

Why we’re all here in front of Finn’s apartment, I can’t fathom. Before I make any decisions or come to a single conclusion, Finn opens the door. He’s sweating, and his hair is in complete disarray, but he smiles at me as if I’m holding an oversized check with his name on it. “Hey,” he says softly, affectionately. “You must be looking for—”

“Boo,” the girl screams, popping out from behind the wall.

He jumps, bracing himself against the doorframe. His entire body locks up. “Ma-Marissa?”

My blood runs as cold as my hands.
Marissa—
the name from one of the boxes in Finn’s apartment.

She leaps, and he lifts her up without a thought. The woman peeks out from the other side of the wall, grinning. “Surprise!”

Finn’s mouth drops open. “Kendra? What’re you doing here?”

The woman—Kendra—moves in front of the door and rolls her eyes at me. “We drive an hour from Connecticut to see this new apartment, and that’s the greeting I get. Men.”

If I look as horrified as I feel, she doesn’t seem to notice. My stomach cramps, as if it’s going to bottom right out. Just last night, Finn said he wanted to kiss me. And now I’m standing in the middle of his . . . family?

“Babe,” Kendra says, “you’re sweating like a whore in church. You still haven’t fixed the furnace thingie you told me about?”

“I—”

A familiar silhouette—
my
familiar silhouette—comes into view behind Finn. Nathan saunters into the doorway with a wrench in his hand. “Nathan Hunt, at your service.”

What’s going on? I give Nate an inquisitive look, but he’s smiling at Kendra. Finn and I exchange a glance. We haven’t done anything beyond walk, talk, and unpack. But our friendship suddenly feels like a dirty secret for which we’re about to get busted.

“Oh, my,” Kendra says to Nathan, dumbstruck. “
You’re
the landlord?”

It’s not an unusual response for Nathan to receive from women. In a suit, he looks as though he stepped out of a GQ spread—but this? He’s slick with sweat. His flannel is open to the neck. His chocolate-smooth brown hair is mussed. If possible, he’s even more fuckable.

Nathan wipes his hand on his jeans and holds out his hand. “Your neighbor, 6B. Sadie’s husband.”

Kendra takes his hand and blinks. “Who’s Sadie?”

“I am,” I say quietly, as if I’m ashamed by the name.

“Oh.” She smiles warmly at me. “So you’ve met my husband.”

I look from her to Finn, confused. Are they separated? Divorcing? I don’t like being in this position—dazed, and feeling weird about something I haven’t even done. It’s Finn’s fault I feel this way, so I look to him, a film of red creeping over my vision.

Finn rubs the back of his neck, appropriately sheepish. “We met the day I moved in,” he says, gesturing at Ginger, “the dog ran off after a squirrel, and I chased her down.”

“Then he came over for a beer,” Nathan says, grinning. “Or so the story goes. I wasn’t around.” He’s friendly by nature, and his smile is authentic, so I don’t think he means anything by it.

“Really?” Kendra asks. Her smile wavers a little, as if that concerns her. Then again, I’d be concerned too if my husband had moved out of my house to get his own place. Except she isn’t acting as though they are. “How nice to have a young couple next door,” she adds.

“I agree.” Nathan bends over to the girl. “And who’s this?”

She glances up at her mom before she says, “Marissa.”

“Nice to meet you, Marissa.” He smiles. “How old are you? Seventeen?”

She laughs. “I’m seven!”

“Oh yeah. I should’ve known.” Finally, Nate glances up at me. Under his bright, happy veneer, I recognize something darker. “I have a niece your age.”

My throat dries, and I swallow. I wonder what he’s trying to tell me with that look.
‘And a niece is all I’ll ever have’
?

“Does she live in the city?” Kendra asks. “Maybe we can get them together.”

“No,” I answer for him. I don’t want this to continue. To me, Bell is sacred, and she doesn’t belong in this conversation. “I thought you went to work,” I say to Nate.

“Not yet.” He straightens up and comes out of the apartment to stand by me. “You didn’t mention Finn had a family,” he says, looking dotingly on Marissa. “I would’ve tried to get to the heater sooner.”

Everyone turns to me. “I . . .” I pause. “I guess I didn’t think of it.”

“I figured. Anyway, I can’t fix the radiator right now. I need a part from the hardware store.” He looks at Finn. “If you can pick it up, I should be able to finish later. If that doesn’t work, though, it might need to be replaced.”

Kendra makes a face. “So it’s going to stay this hot? Can’t the landlord do something?”

“He’ll give you the runaround for weeks,” Nathan says. “I’d remove it, but you can bet your,” he glances at Marissa, “
you-know-what
the cold’s going to be worse.”

“It’s fine. She’s heard worse,” Finn says about Marissa. “Mom here’s got the mouth of a sailor.”

“And you fucking love it,” Kendra says, slipping her arm around his waist. Finn glances briefly at me and then away. In my experience, this isn’t how separated couples act. I swallow at the subtle display of affection, and ashamedly, feel the slightest tinge of jealousy. “At the altar,” Kendra continues, “when the priest asked if I took Finn to be my husband—”

“She said ‘Of course I fucking do,’” Finn rushes out, slurring the words together. “Not only have I lived the story, but I’ve heard it over and over.”

“They haven’t, honey.” She rises up to kiss his cheek, then runs her hand over the stubble on his chin. “This is new.”

His jaw tenses. “It’s Movember. Mustache November. I’m growing it out.”

“Great,” she says cheerily. “Maybe I’ll grow my hair out too.”

A stiff giggle escapes me before I can stop it. She isn’t talking about the hair on her head. When Nathan understands, he also laughs.

Finn doesn’t look amused. He moves away from her. “Let them go. They have to get to work.”

“I do,” Nathan agrees, “and I need a shower.”

The men shake hands. “Thanks again,” Finn says. “I owe you.”

“Not yet,” Nathan says. “But once I fix it, I expect a six-pack. And none of that generic bull. The expensive, craft beer.”

“Nathan,” I scold, shaking my head.

“What?”

Finn smiles. “You got it.”

Nathan flashes Kendra his panty-dropper smile. I know it well, but not from this angle. Does he smile like that often when I’m not around? “Nice to meet you ladies.” His eyes linger on Marissa. He started looking at babies that way last year. At least, that’s when I started noticing it. Is it wrong for me to be jealous of a little girl?

I follow Nathan inside our apartment, my mind spinning. I feel like a fool in a number of ways. I want to know what Nathan and Finn talked about. Why Finn didn’t mention a family.

As soon as the door closes, Nate’s smile is gone. He unbuttons his flannel as he walks away.

“You didn’t have to go over there,” I say. My tone is unintentionally accusatory.

He disappears into the bedroom.

My blouse sticks under my armpits. I’m hot one minute and cold the next—it’s starting to annoy me, and winter hasn’t even technically begun. I remain where I am. Finn claimed honesty was his reason for telling me he wanted to kiss me, but not mentioning a family was a lie. I don’t know why I care. It’s not my business. I don’t like being blindsided, though.