On Second Thought
Page 67

“Think he’s home? Maybe he sold the car. Maybe he’s asleep upstairs, right now,” I whispered. This made us laugh uncontrollably for some reason.
“Let’s put his hand in a bowl of water and see if he wets the bed,” Ainsley suggested, and I laughed so hard I had to go to the bathroom. Went into the little powder room and peed. Opted not to flush. Let him wonder.
When I came out, Ainsley was standing there. “He’s not home,” she said. “I checked. Come on, let’s get some of my stuff.” She looked around, the light from the bathroom illuminating the rooms. “I loved this house,” she said, her voice a little forlorn.
“It always felt so happy here,” I said, meaning it.
“When he kicked me out, I never thought he meant it.” Her mouth wobbled.
This was the first time she’d really talked about her breakup, and I didn’t know what to tell her. I was hardly a relationship expert, was I?
“Take that pillow,” I said, pointing to the couch. The pillow said love you in pink letters, such an Ainsley kind of thing. “And this little flower vase. It’s very pretty.”
“I don’t want them. But here. For you,” she said, grabbing them. “He can’t prove I didn’t buy them. At least, I don’t think he can. I handled all the finances when we were together. He probably has his mommy doing it now.”
We went upstairs, Ainsley grabbing a little statue of a dachshund off a table. “He hasn’t even been to see Ollie,” she said. “The bastard.”
“The sign of a sociopath,” I said. “Can I have this?” I asked, pointing to an antique clock.
“No, that was his grandmother’s. Sorry. Here. Take this instead.” She gave me a wooden giraffe.
We went into the master bedroom. The covers were askew, a pillow on the floor. Ainsley paused, then went into the master bathroom, turned on the light and began scooping up moisturizer, mascara, lipsticks out of a drawer, and shoving them in her purse.
“This is in addition to the stuff you have at my house?” I asked.
“I know, I know, I’m an addict. But it costs a fortune. I’m not leaving it here.”
Eric’s toothbrush and razor were on the counter, which had blotches of toothpaste and stubble staining the sink. “Men are disgusting,” I said.
“No kidding. We’re better off without them. Oh, shit, sorry. I’m better off without mine. You, of course, are much worse.”
I snorted. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
I put down my loot, took Eric’s toothbrush, pulled up my shirt and leisurely rubbed the brush in my armpit. Ainsley shrieked, then laughed so hard she bent over.
My reflection showed a happy, flushed person. Nice to see a smile on my face. For once, the thought didn’t make me immediately revert to sadness. “Shall I spit on his pillow?” I offered, and Ainsley went off again into gales of silent laughter.
Then we heard the door open downstairs. We froze.
The door closed. There were footsteps.
“Oh, God! He’s back,” Ainsley hissed. “Hide!”
I grabbed my stuff and obeyed, trying not to snort with laughter. We tiptoed down the hall, and Ainsley opened the door to the guest bedroom, dragged me to the far side of the bed and pulled me down onto the floor with her. She was laughing, too, her eyes streaming with tears.
Then we heard his voice...and a woman’s voice answering.
Our laughter died a quick death.
“I love your place,” the woman said. They seemed to be right under us, in what I thought was the living room, and the insulation must’ve sucked in this house, because we could hear them clear as day.
“Thanks. It’s a little soulless, but I’ll deal with that when I get back. Probably, I’ll sell the place and donate the money to my charity.”
His charity. Because there weren’t enough charities for cancer research. The putz had to have one with his name on it, of course.
Ainsley had grown very still next to me. I slid my arm around her. “He’s a prick,” I whispered. “You deserve better.”
“So how is a guy like you still single?” the woman asked, her voice playful.
“Oh, I was with someone for a long time,” he answered. “I don’t think she could handle my illness. She said the right things, but she never honored my journey, you know what I mean?”
Ainsley sucked in a breath, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“You’re kidding!” the woman said. “That’s horrible!”
“Well, it happens. Not everyone is open to tackling the hardships of life. Enough about her. Come here, you.”
There was quiet then.
“They’re kissing,” Ainsley whispered. “That’s his come-on line. ‘Come here, you.’ Worked every time.”
“It’s a really stupid line,” I whispered back.
“They’re gonna do it. Here. In my house. In our bed.”
“No, they’re not,” I whispered.
“Yes, they are. In two minutes, he’s going to bring her upstairs, take a shower, because that’s his idea of foreplay, and then he’s going to have sex with her in our bed.” She was shaking.
“Give me your bag,” I whispered. I clicked on my phone light and grabbed some mascara. Rubbed it under my eyes.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Just be ready to get out of here when I distract them. We don’t want you to be seen.” For legal purposes, I didn’t add. Hey. I was a grieving widow. Time to get a little mileage out of that.
I took out her lipstick—super red—and put it on, making sure to smear it with a heavy hand. “How do I look?”
“Insane.”
“Good.”
We sat there in the dark, holding hands. “Make sure you bring my loot,” I said, and we started to laugh again, silent, wheezing, unable to look at each other. She grabbed a pillow off the guest bed, took off the pillowcase and loaded it up with my goodies. Added the cute bedside clock, too, which made us laugh even more.
Sure enough, Eric and his friend came upstairs. We could hear little bursts of laughter and murmuring.
“I’ll just take a quick shower,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Why don’t I join you?” she said in a sultry tone.
“Excellent idea.”
I thought so, too. We heard the shower start. More laughter from the frisky couple. “Time for you to go, Ains,” I whispered, standing up.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
We tiptoed down the hall toward Eric’s room. Ainsley stationed herself outside the doorway like a cop expecting gunfire.
I went in.
Screwing another woman in the bed he’d shared with my sister? Not on my watch.
The bathroom door was closed. Since they’d left the lights on, I could see myself in the bureau mirror. Yep. I looked crazy. I messed up my hair for that added asylum look, took a deep breath and threw open the bathroom door.
“Eric!” I bellowed.
He screamed. She screamed. She also flailed, her elbow jerking back and catching Eric in the face. He screamed again, the wuss, one hand going to his nose, the other to cover his junk.
I jammed my hands on my hips. “Where’s my sister, Eric? What did you do to her?”
“What are you talking about? How did you get in? God! I’m naked here!”