Huh. So apparently, without realizing it, I’ve been building this fence for Elle. As soon as I asked the question—Don’t you like it?—even before I found myself waiting eagerly for her answer, I knew.
I’ve been showing off for her.
Two-sided fence? For Elle. Horizontal pickets, with their fidgety fit into the posts? For Elle. Lattice, which has taken me freaking forever to construct one panel at a time? For Elle.
One reclaimed cedar fence, ten times fancier than the situation requires?
For Elle.
Basically, that fence is like a male peacock displaying its tail feathers.
I’m definitely going to have sex with her again.
I probably should have known I was going to go after round two when I got home from Maeve’s right after our alley encounter. I jogged up the stairs—Jonah was sleeping at his grandparents’ house—brushed my teeth, removed my belt, jeans, and shoes, and got into bed. I was expecting to pretty much pass out, what with the whiskey and how hard I’d come—standing up—a mere half hour ago, but that wasn’t what happened.
By all rights, sex should have been the last thing on my mind, except maybe a quick mental review—you know, storing the images up for future spank-bank material.
Instead, I was imagining how it would be if there were a next time.
What would it have been like if I fucked her from behind? Her hands up on the wall? Or bent her over the edge of a bed?
Or, what if we did it lying down? Slow. Face-to-face, so I could watch what her face did when she made those noises. When she pulsed and spasmed around me.
Spoiler: I ended up with my dick out, a palm full of lube, and a chest covered with cum. So in that sense, she was the first woman since Lucy died who got me off twice in one night.
Yes, that made me feel guilty as shit. Which is part of why I made myself put her out of my head for a while after that.
Until she showed up at my front door. Whereupon I got my second strong set of clues that I wasn’t done with her. That I still had designs aplenty on her.
And if that wasn’t information enough, there was the ordeal of hiking in the woods after seeing her with the spatula in her hand.
And watching her go toe-to-toe with McKibben.
Anyway, the point is, now I’ve quit denying what I should have known all along.
I don’t have time to act on my newfound knowledge, though, because just then a familiar car pulls up outside Elle’s house. Madden’s dad’s Camry.
Elle turns to look in the direction of my gaze and sighs heavily. “Wish me luck.”
I watch Mr. Yap step out of the driver’s seat. “Have you tried bacon treats? I hear they’re great for house training.”
She laughs, shoots me an appreciative look, and heads over to her front yard to greet Trevor. There’s someone else emerging from the car now, a tall, willowy, raven-haired woman.
Oh, shit. I have to assume she’s Trevor’s high school girlfriend and fiancée, and my heart picks up in sympathy for Elle.
Elle’s step hitches—she’s seen the other woman, and she hesitates a moment before continuing. She’s got to be feeling pretty miserable right now. Trevor on his own is bad enough, but having your kid picked up by the woman who stole your husband…?
No fun.
I watch through the lattice—stalker-neighbor-style—as the woman approaches Elle with a smile and extends her hand to shake. The other woman is wearing a short skirt and a white V-neck shirt that reveals epic quantities of cleavage. There’s no denying she’s a beautiful woman, but not my type—she looks wound too tight. I know, though, that she’s the kind of woman who makes other women crazy—makes them go home and pinch their invisible belly fat and schedule haircuts and makeovers. I know because that used to happen to Lucy sometimes. She’d come home from the gym or a PTO meeting and stand in front of the mirror and fidget with her hair and look completely defeated.
But you’re beautiful!
Not like so-and-so, though.
You’re better!
You’re just saying that because you’re my husband.
I’m saying it because it’s true.
I could usually make her believe it. She’d abandon her hairbrush or her eyeliner and come with me into the bedroom, and I’d finish convincing her.
I close my eyes against the pain, but when I open them again, Helen is tossing her hair and laughing.
Possessed by some impulse I can’t quite name, I set down my tools and head around the fence and into Elle’s yard.
Trevor, Helen, and Elle are standing in a small clump. Elle looks miserable, her shoulders slumped inward like she’s trying to disappear.
“Hey,” I call out.
Trevor looks up. An irritated expression crosses his face. Excellent. Ticking Trevor off is my new favorite sport.
“Hi, Simon,” Trevor says.
“Sawyer,” Elle bites out.
“Hi, Travis,” I reply cheerfully.
Elle doesn’t correct me, and Travis bristles. 2–0, me.
“This is Helen,” Elle tells me, indicating the other woman. “She and Trevor are getting married in a couple of weeks.”
“Which reminds me,” Helen says. Her voice is husky and rich. Her eyes are dark and rimmed with smoky makeup. She would definitely have made Lucy crazy. “We haven’t gotten an RSVP from you.”
She’s a sadist.
Elle opens her mouth, but Helen interrupts. “We understand if it’s too difficult,” she says sympathetically.
No, pityingly.
I can’t help it—I jump in. I tell myself I’m doing it for Lucy and all the other women in the world who feel intimidated by Helen, but the truth is, I can’t stand the smugness on Helen’s face, or the despair on Elle’s.
“That’s my fault. I’ve been trying to change some plans around. But we’re in. For sure. Right, babe?”
I put my arm around Elle’s slim waist and drop a casual kiss on her mouth.
Or, that’s my plan.
I forget, though, about the power of Elle.
I feel her breath on my lips. A slight shiver goes through her body, and I remember the way she responded to me that night in the alley. And even though the kiss lasts only a millisecond, I smell her skin and her flowery shampoo, and I taste her mouth.
I go from zero to sixty.
I want to tease her lips apart, find her tongue with mine, turn her into my arms, and take everything I want from her.
It’s Elle who keeps things from getting out of control. She gives a small, light laugh and slips her hand between us, pushing gently on my chest. “That’s right. We’re in,” she tells Trevor and Helen.
I have to give her kudos—it’s seamless. You can’t tell I caught her totally off guard.
“Hi, Daddy.”
Madden is suddenly at my elbow. Did he see me kiss his mom? He doesn’t seem unsettled or perturbed in the slightest. He hugs his dad, gives his stepmother-to-be a cool glance, and accepts her pat on the head.
“Well,” says Helen, “we’re delighted we’ll have you both there.”
She sounds disappointed, and I want to do a victory lap. Or maybe that’s because of the sensation that rushed through my body when my mouth touched Elle’s, like flame leaping from paper to tinder.
“Run and get your bag,” Elle tells Madden. “It’s in the living room.”
Madden runs. Trevor is staring at Elle like she’s grown a third arm. “I hope you’ll be careful of Madden’s feelings,” he says prissily.
When Elle said he was a small dog, I’d thought of him as a Yorkshire terrier, but right now I’m picturing him as a Maltese with its fluffy white hair in a bow on top of its head.
I have to work really hard not to laugh.
“I’m always careful with Madden’s feelings,” Elle says mildly.
“This could be confusing for him, I’d think,” Trevor says.
What a dick! So the rules are, he’s allowed to bust up his marriage and turn his kid’s life upside down, but she has to be celibate till the end of time? I almost get up in the guy’s face, but Elle beats me to it.
“Would that be more or less confusing than his father leaving his mother because he cheated on her with his high school girlfriend?” Elle inquires.
Trevor’s face goes blank. So does Helen’s.
I fail, completely, to keep a straight face.
Elle slips her small, warm hand into mine and leans back against me.
It feels way better than scoring a point against Trevor.
It’s more like when you level up in an arcade game and the numbers roll up, over and over, in celebration.