I heard the soft slam of the car door, then the automatic hum of the garage shutting behind her. That sound alone—so familiar, so simple—sent a shiver through me. Not because I was afraid. Not because I was unsure.
But because I already knew.
She was home. From her date. With Ray.
I stayed on the couch, phone in hand but unread, screen dimming to black. I couldn’t focus. I hadn’t been able to all night. The image of her—curvy, radiant, confident—slipping into something short and tight before she left had burned itself into my mind like a brand.
She’d mentioned Ray weeks ago. A friend, she said. Handsome, she admitted. And when she confessed that she thought he was attractive, I nodded. Encouraged her even. Told her I trusted her. That I wanted her to have everything she deserved.
But nothing quite prepares you for this part. The part where she comes back, satisfied. Full. Radiant in a way that has nothing to do with you… and everything to do with you, too.…
