Page 131 of Sin

20

Sin

“Where in the hell have you been?”

I close the door behind me and look up at Jenna, who’s standing on the stairs. She has every right to be angry with me. I’ve been gone for two days taking care of Laurel. Two days on her couch, then in her bed, then back on the couch when her fever spiked again. Two days making soup, forcing medicine into her hand, checking her temperature, and pretending I wasn’t memorizing the soft, vulnerable sounds she made in her sleep.

The only reason I came home was because I needed a change of clothes.

And maybe because some cowardly part of me thought if I stepped into this house again, I could still pretend I belonged here. But I don’t. Not anymore.

“I don’t want to do this right now,” I say.

Jenna laughs once. It’s sharp enough to cut.

“Oh, really? You don’t want to tell your wife why you haven’t been home in two days?” Her voice gets louder with each word. “Mason, this is so messed up. You’re the one who said you wanted to work on things. You’re the one who said we needed to try, and now you disappear for two days without even a believable lie?”

I drag a hand down my face. “Jenna.”

“No. Don’t Jenna me like I’m being unreasonable.”

“You’re not.”

That stops her for half a second. She deserves the truth of that, at least.

“You’re not being unreasonable,” I say again. “You’re angry. You should be.”

Her eyes flash. “Then where were you?”

The answer is right there.

Laurel.

With Laurel.

Taking care of Laurel.

Loving Laurel.

My throat tightens around the words.

I’ve lied so many times by now I should be better at it. But standing in my foyer, looking at my wife on the staircase with hurt written across her face, I suddenly can’t find another one.

“I can’t do this,” I say.

Her expression crumples with disbelief. “You can’t do this?”

“I can’t keep pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

I look around the house. The polished floors. The expensive art. The staircase Jenna chose because she said it made the entryway feel dramatic. Everything in this house is beautiful.

Everything is cold.

“Pretending this marriage is something it hasn’t been in a long time.”

She goes still. The words hang between us, ugly and overdue.