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movie.
I was cozy and comfortable and actually ended up enjoying the movie (go figure), but I still couldn't quite
relax. Things were happening out there in the real world, but it all seemed to be off camera. Just outside
my peripheral vision. If only I could somehow turn my head and see the bigger picture
"Hey." Stuart's voice was soft as he smoothed my hair. "Where are you tonight?"
"Sorry. Just distracted. Allie. High school. My baby growing up." Another lie. That made how many? I'd
lost track, and I couldn't help but wonder how many more would follow.
My worlds were colliding, and I wanted to keep the world with Stuart safe and secure. Tucked away in
a little box like a treasured Christmas ornament. But my old life kept peeking in, and I was so afraid that
Stuart would look at me one morning and catch a glimpse of my secret. Or, worse, that one morning he'd
wake up and catch a glimpse of a demon.
I twisted in his arms and kissed him, hard at first, and then softer, until I felt him relax under me and open
his mouth to mine. His hands tightened around me, and he pulled me close. I wanted to be even closer. I
wanted to curl up, lost inside this man. I wanted him to take care of me. At the very least, I wanted to
forget my responsibilities and my promises and my past.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he was amenable to more of the
same.
"Can't I seduce my husband?"
"Any time, any place."
"Here," I said. "And now."
A familiar spark flashed in his eyes, the kind every man gets when he realizes he's going to get lucky. And
then he pulled me close, Patton all but forgotten.
I'm not stupid. I knew this wouldn't solve my problem, wouldn't make my worries or the boogeyman go
away. Wouldn't even erase my thoughts of Eric.
I wanted it, though. Wanted Stuart. This husband. This life.
I needed to feel my present tight around me, soft and warm like a blanket. Because bits and pieces of my
past kept picking at the loose threads, and I was so afraid that, if I wasn't careful, the perfect life Stuart
and I had built together would unravel in an instant.
And then, I had to wonder, where would I be?
For that matter, who would I be?
Chapter Nine
Good sex warps a woman's mind. I realize that now. But when Stuart asked me if I could throw
together another quick cocktail party, I was still lost in that sated morning-after glow. Apparently, one of
the paralegals was supposed to host the thing that evening, but she'd come down with something. I
murmured yes and then buried my head back under the covers, happy, content, and full of
orgasm-induced confidence.
It wasn't until my alarm went off five minutes later that I realized my mistake.
By that time Stuart was already pulling out of the drive, probably practicing his cocktail party banter as
he drove to the gym for an early-morning workout. I toyed briefly with dialing his cell phone and backing
out, but then abandoned the idea. It wasn't a huge shindig. Only five couples. And this was what I was
supposed to be doing helping my husband, stepping in during a crisis, being a good wife and mom.
Yes, he may have cheated a bit by asking when my body still tingled, but I'd said yes, and now I was
stuck. And considering I had to get two kids up and dressed and then drive Allie and three other kids
to school before the 7:45 warning bell I really didn't have time to sit around regretting my decision.
I tossed on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then pulled my hair back into a ponytail without bothering to
brush it. Allie's a bear to wake up before seven, so I headed for her room first, pounding on the door and
calling, "Up, up, up."
Her muffled response filtered through the door, and although I couldn't understand the words, the tone
was loud and clear Go away, Mom, you're bothering me.
"First day of school, Allie, remember? Come on. We're running late." A lie, but I figured that might get
her moving faster.
Next, I headed for Timmy's room. This was about the time he usually woke up six-fifteen and I could
hear him whispering to himself. I pushed the door open with a cheery, "Good morning, Mr. Tim."
"MOMMA, MOMMA, MOMMA.'"
(Now there's a proper morning greeting.) I headed over to his crib and soaked up the light from his
toothy grin. He held up Boo Bear. "He sleepy," he said.
"Me, too." I took the bear, gave it a big kiss, and then very seriously spoke to his little bear face. "Boo
Bear, we need to get Timmy up. What do you think? Time for a fresh diaper?"
I didn't give the bear (or the boy) time to answer. Just schlepped them both the short distance to the
changing table. Less than two minutes later (I've been doing this for a few years) Timmy had on a fresh
diaper and clean clothes and we were heading into the living room. I plunked him on the couch, turned
on Jo Jo's Circus, and continued toward the kitchen to heat up a sippy cup of milk.
Forty-five seconds later Timmy was holding the cup in his chubby little hands, I had my cordless phone
cradled at my ear, and I was heading back up the stairs to pound at Allie's door once again.
"Dupont mental institution," Laura said, obviously having checked her caller ID.
"How are things at your end?"
"The inmates are restless," she said.
"At least yours is up and moving." I pounded on Allie's door again. "'Now, Allie. If you're not dressed at
7:20, I'm leaving without you." The first day of car pool is always a challenge, and Karen and Emily were
unknown commodities. If they were the kind who ran late where you ended up sitting on the street,
engine running, laying on the horn I wanted a little padding in the schedule.
I switched my attention back to the phone. "What have you got going this morning?"
"Laundry," she said, sounding about as excited as if she were having a root canal. "Carla refuses to step
up to the plate." Carla came in twice a month to do Laura's heavy cleaning. This is a point of great envy
on my part. One day I'm hoping Carla can be cloned. "And bills. I could be talked into procrastinating,"
she added. "If you've got a better offer, I mean."
"Not exactly," I said as I headed back downstairs. "I was hoping to bum a favor."
"Oh, dear."
"Now that Mindy's a teenager, don't you miss the pitter-patter of little feet?"
"You're killing me here," she said, but I could hear amusement in her voice, and said a silent thank-you.
"Just spit it out."
"I need a babysitter."
"Oh, really?" Her voice rose with interest. "And what fabulous dalliance have you got scheduled?"
"Nothing as fabulous as all that." I gave her the short-but-incomplete truth that I was going to be doing
some work at the church.
She made curious noises, but didn't ask and I didn't volunteer. As soon as she agreed to watch the
munchkin, I swore to do her bidding for the rest of eternity. "You can probably just treat me to dessert at
the Cheesecake Factory," she said, "and we'll call it even." A pause. "Or is this more than a one-day
crisis?"
"Hopefully just one or two," I said, making one of those I'm-guilty-but-please-help-anyway faces even
though she couldn't see me through the phone line. "I'm hoping I can find a day care."
"Really?" Her surprise made sense. I'd told her over and over that I love doing the stay-at-home-mom
thing (I do). "Two days, two desserts," she said, playing babysitting hardball.
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