Slip of the Tongue Read online

  “Because I like you.” He absentmindedly caresses the nape of my neck with his fingertip. “So I want to be honest.”

  I put my hand over his wrist, and he stops. Now, and for the last hour, it’s as if we’re the only two people on the planet. The Bad Wife and the Stranger. If I let him kiss me, nobody would ever know. He doesn’t wear lipstick. Neither do I.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he asks.

  I nod. I don’t have to pull his hand away. He takes it back willingly.

  “It’s probably best.” He hands me my sweater and the speaker. We forgot to turn the music on. “I can finish up here.”

  Already, before I can get a word out, he’s walking me through the apartment.

  I say the only thing left to say. “Goodnight.”

  “See you around.” He pulls the door open, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Talk to him. If you want to know what’s wrong, just ask him.”

  I pull my sweater around me, even though hair sticks to the back of my neck. My feet sweat in my boots. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He lets me out.

  I walk across the hall, unlock the door to my apartment, and find the lights on. I set my keys down as Ginger comes in, wagging her tail. “Nate?”

  “In here,” he calls from the living room.

  I remove my shoes and socks, put them on the rack in the entryway, and find him on the couch in his sweats. “Why didn’t you come get me?” I ask.

  He pauses whatever sports channel he’s watching. “I didn’t know where you were.”

  “I left you a note.”

  “You did?” He hits play on the remote and returns his attention to the TV.

  I go into the kitchen. The Post-It is still on the fridge, but it’s been moved a few inches to the left. He just lied to me. I pull it off and go back to the living room. “You didn’t see this?” I ask.

  He shuts off the TV, stands, and stretches. He’s so tall, his fingertips graze the ceiling. “I figured you were out shopping or something.”

  “You should’ve called me. What about dinner?”

  “I made a grilled cheese.”

  I don’t know what to say. If he’s home, I make him dinner. Period. I want to tell him that. To tell him I know he moved the Post-It. I’m fairly positive he did. Though, I could be mistaken. Do I really remember where I stuck it? I’d sound hysterical if I were wrong.

  “Where were you tonight?” I ask.

  “I went to see my dad.”

  “Without me?” I ask. “I would’ve met you at the hospital.”

  “I wasn’t planning to. I just decided to stop by on my way home from work.”

  I crumple the Post-It in one hand. Nathan’s dad’s health has declined quickly since they discovered his lung cancer. When we found out he’d been sick a while, Nathan blamed himself for not making his stubborn dad see a doctor sooner.

  “He’s better, by the way.” He sniffs. “Radiation just hit him a little harder than usual. They’re keeping him there.”

  “Did you call your mom?”

  “Yeah. She’s sending ‘healing energy from California.’” He tosses the remote on the couch. “I’m done with the TV if you want it.”

  “Maybe we can watch something together?”

  There are shows Nathan and I watch together, and there are ones we watch when we’re apart. I can’t stand medical primetime drama. He’ll leave the room if he sees Tim Gunn. But when we find a show we both love, we always watch it the same way—gasping simultaneously. Laughing at the same things, even those that aren’t meant to be funny. Yelling at idiot characters.

  “I’m going to read,” he says. “I’m finally starting that Erik Larson book I ordered forever ago.”

  Historical nonfiction. Not my thing. I know he’s been looking forward to it, though. “All right.”

  He turns to walk away.

  “I was at the neighbor’s,” I say. “That’s what the Post-It said. He asked me to help him unpack the kitchen.”

  “That was nice of you,” he says. “Moving on your own is a bitch.”

  “I think you’d like him.” I hesitate. Maybe if they knew each other, the temptation of Finn would disappear. The funny thing is, I think they’d get along. “You should go over and say hello sometime. I don’t think he has a lot of friends.”

  Nathan turns his head halfway over his shoulder. “His heater still busted?”

  “Yes.” I run my hand over the back of my clammy neck and remember Finn’s fingers there. “I’m sweating like a pig.”

  Nathan takes a long look at me and opens his mouth like he’s going to speak. After a brief pause, he asks, “What’s his name?”

  “Finn.” I wait. “He worked in banking or something.”

  Nathan shifts on his feet, watching me. “I’ll try to get over there to take a look, but no promises.”

  He goes into the bedroom. I make myself something to eat and watch TV, but I’m not paying attention. Nothing has really happened today, and yet, my mind is spinning—from Nathan’s lipstick stain and his dismissal just now. From Finn’s strong hands and his confession. What is a kiss, really? Two body parts touching, like one hand to another. The thought of Finn’s unsolicited, forbidden kiss shouldn’t stir something deep inside me.

  I’m still sticky, so I leave the dishes for the morning and decide to take a shower. Nathan doesn’t look up from his book. I undress in the closet and slip on my robe. As I’m taking my birth control, I notice the dry cleaning bag has new things in it. I drop to my knees and rifle through until I find his tie. I pull it out quickly, straightening and smoothing it over the carpet. It’s crumpled, but clean. I sigh, a mix of relief and embarrassment, as I hunch over the bag. Then, I smell it. Cigarette smoke.

  I set my jaw. Nathan quit years ago and hasn’t slipped up once. This isn’t his stink stuck to his suit. It’s someone else’s. Or it’s from a bar. Either way, it is not from a hospital. How desperate must he be to lie about seeing his sick father?

  My cheeks warm. I can barely form a thought that doesn’t involve me hurling curse words. I leave the pile where it is and charge to the foot of the bed. “Where were you tonight?”

  He turns a page. “I told you. The hospital.”

  The smell is trapped in my nostrils. I swipe my nose hard. “Where else?”

  He glances up. “I went there from work, then I came home. I was watching TV for a while before you got here.” He cocks his head. “Why?”

  I try to calm my breathing by inhaling deeply. He’s turning me into someone I don’t recognize—a suspicious wife. My friends and co-workers have their husbands on short leashes, and I’ve never understood why. Is this what happens if you don’t watch them closely? “I’ve had a weird day,” I say.

  This is the part where he puts down his book and asks why. Then takes me in his arms and assures me I’m the only girl for him—now, and always.

  “Well . . .” His eyes drift to the floor at my feet while he furrows his brows, as if he’s thinking much too hard about his next move. He hesitates so long, the silence between us becomes awkward. “This is a weird city,” he finally says and looks back at the page.

  It must be an interesting book. I’m tempted to ask what it’s about that it’s worth more of his attention than his own wife. Or just skip the whole passive-aggressive route and accuse him of fucking around behind my back. What would he say to that?

  This paranoia is new to me, just like his attitude. I don’t like it. I want things to go back to the way they were. “I already took the dry cleaning,” I say evenly.

  “I know.”

  “Your clothes from last night were pretty dirty. And now there’s more.”

  “I get a few passes, don’t I? I’m always picking up your stuff.”

  I narrow my eyes. It’s only half true. He likes things tidy. It’s not as though I leave a mess everywhere I go, though. I’d rather leave messes for the morning, but by morning, the messes are already gone. “I didn’t mean
it like that,” I say.

  Somehow, he still seems to be reading.

  “Nathan.”

  He looks up again and makes a move like he’s going to put his book down. But he doesn’t. I see a flash of indecision, and then his expression clears. “What?”

  My stomach fills with butterflies. We promised each other, I want to say. If you were tempted to act on something, you were supposed to tell me. And now, I’m the one who’s tempted. If Finn had just kissed me and not said it aloud—would I have stopped him? I don’t know. Which means I need to tell Nathan about it. That was our deal. It’s not so easy, though. How do I tell the person I love most in the world that he’s failing me? And that another man is making it better? Maybe Nathan tried to come to me and couldn’t. We’d made it sound so easy.

  “What is it?” he asks. “There’s a ton of detail in this book. I need to concentrate.”

  “Never mind.” I turn away and slam the bathroom door shut behind me. In the shower, my body shakes. Not because of what Nathan said, but because he said it at all. He doesn’t shut me out, snap at me, or leave the room when I enter.

  I’m scared.

  I wait for him to come in and apologize, but he doesn’t. When I get out, he’s already asleep, an hour earlier than usual. I climb into bed, but I might as well be somewhere else for all he notices.

  Maybe even in the next apartment.

  SEVEN

  I’m calmer when I wake. Having gone to bed so early, Nathan left before I was even out of bed, which is uncommon. I take Ginger downstairs and find myself in a winter wonderland. Everything is freshly powdered. It’s the season’s first snowfall, and the air is alive. It used to excite me, but a couple years ago, I slipped and twisted my ankle on an ice patch. Now I wear rain boots to and from work. Carrying an extra pair of shoes annoys me. The snow only stays white for a day anyway. Then it turns putrid and asphalt-gray.

  Ginger sniffs a shrub with extraordinary fascination. She stops, looks around the street, and then returns to investigating. I should hire her out to the police department. Or have her trail Nathan, I think, pulling my coat closer around me. It’s only the third time that morning I’ve thought of the lipstick stain and the smoky suit.

  “Come on, girl,” I say. “Hurry up.”

  She marks the bush, but that’s all. Nathan must’ve taken her out already.

  I pull her back toward the building, where I spot a woman and young girl at the entrance. They both wear matching pink caps and have long, blond curls. With her free one, the woman is punching a number on the entry keypad over and over. “What the hell is wrong with this thing?”

  “Hello?” I ask.

  She turns around. Her smile is so big, I could count all of her teeth. “Hi,” she says. “Do you live here?”

  The girl, in a huge puffy coat, looks at me. “What’s your dog’s name?”

  “Ginger.” Ginger, waiting patiently, hears her name and begins to wag her tail. “You can pet her.”

  Her hand looks white and small in Ginger’s red fur.

  “Would you mind letting us in?” the woman asks. “We live here, but they keypad doesn’t seem to work.”

  “It probably froze last night.” I pull out my key and let them in. Warmth welcomes us like a hug. “At least the common spaces are heated.”

  “It’s a beautiful building.”

  “Thank you.” I don’t know why I said that. It’s not like I have any more claim over the place than she does. I pull Ginger to the elevator and when it arrives, I select the sixth floor. They get on a second after.

  “Can I push the button?” the girl asks, and then frowns at the panel. “Never mind. She already did.”

  “Just pick another one above six,” the woman says, winking at me. “Live outside the law, baby.”

  “You live on six?” I ask. I’m not on a first-name basis with all my neighbors, but I don’t recognize them.

  “Just moved in. I told my husband, if we’re moving to the city, you damn well better believe we’re getting a nice place. I could do the starving artist thing in my twenties, but I’m a thirty-two year old mother now. I refuse to wrestle rats for food.”

  “Mom?” the girl asks, her voice high-pitched.

  “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” she enthuses. “There are no rats.”

  “Well—” I start.

  The woman cuts a finger across her throat and shakes her head. She knows. Rats generally stick to the underground, but I’ve seen a mouse or two in my time at the apartment. Or three. We share a smile as the doors open.

  The woman heads down the hallway with her child as I pull Ginger along. She stops at 6A. I look between the door and her. She’s knocking.

  I draw my eyebrows in. She’s knocking? The hallway no longer feels warm. My fingers are like little icicles, so I stick one hand under an armpit, keeping Ginger close with the other. Should I keep walking or say something? How do I ask her if she’s confused about where she lives without offending her?

  “Should we hide?” the girl asks.

  “Yes, let’s.” They both move out of the way of the peephole, so it’s just me standing there, stuck to the spot.

  Why we’re all here in front of Finn’s apartment, I can’t fathom. Before I make any decisions or come to a single conclusion, Finn opens the door. He’s sweating, and his hair is in complete disarray, but he smiles at me as if I’m holding an oversized check with his name on it. “Hey,” he says softly, affectionately. “You must be looking for—”

  “Boo,” the girl screams, popping out from behind the wall.

  He jumps, bracing himself against the doorframe. His entire body locks up. “Ma-Marissa?”

  My blood runs as cold as my hands. Marissa—the name from one of the boxes in Finn’s apartment.

  She leaps, and he lifts her up without a thought. The woman peeks out from the other side of the wall, grinning. “Surprise!”

  Finn’s mouth drops open. “Kendra? What’re you doing here?”

  The woman—Kendra—moves in front of the door and rolls her eyes at me. “We drive an hour from Connecticut to see this new apartment, and that’s the greeting I get. Men.”

  If I look as horrified as I feel, she doesn’t seem to notice. My stomach cramps, as if it’s going to bottom right out. Just last night, Finn said he wanted to kiss me. And now I’m standing in the middle of his . . . family?

  “Babe,” Kendra says, “you’re sweating like a whore in church. You still haven’t fixed the furnace thingie you told me about?”

  “I—”

  A familiar silhouette—my familiar silhouette—comes into view behind Finn. Nathan saunters into the doorway with a wrench in his hand. “Nathan Hunt, at your service.”

  What’s going on? I give Nate an inquisitive look, but he’s smiling at Kendra. Finn and I exchange a glance. We haven’t done anything beyond walk, talk, and unpack. But our friendship suddenly feels like a dirty secret for which we’re about to get busted.

  “Oh, my,” Kendra says to Nathan, dumbstruck. “You’re the landlord?”

  It’s not an unusual response for Nathan to receive from women. In a suit, he looks as though he stepped out of a GQ spread—but this? He’s slick with sweat. His flannel is open to the neck. His chocolate-smooth brown hair is mussed. If possible, he’s even more fuckable.

  Nathan wipes his hand on his jeans and holds out his hand. “Your neighbor, 6B. Sadie’s husband.”

  Kendra takes his hand and blinks. “Who’s Sadie?”

  “I am,” I say quietly, as if I’m ashamed by the name.

  “Oh.” She smiles warmly at me. “So you’ve met my husband.”

  I look from her to Finn, confused. Are they separated? Divorcing? I don’t like being in this position—dazed, and feeling weird about something I haven’t even done. It’s Finn’s fault I feel this way, so I look to him, a film of red creeping over my vision.

  Finn rubs the back of his neck, appropriately sheepish. “We met the day I moved in,” he
says, gesturing at Ginger, “the dog ran off after a squirrel, and I chased her down.”

  “Then he came over for a beer,” Nathan says, grinning. “Or so the story goes. I wasn’t around.” He’s friendly by nature, and his smile is authentic, so I don’t think he means anything by it.

  “Really?” Kendra asks. Her smile wavers a little, as if that concerns her. Then again, I’d be concerned too if my husband had moved out of my house to get his own place. Except she isn’t acting as though they are. “How nice to have a young couple next door,” she adds.

  “I agree.” Nathan bends over to the girl. “And who’s this?”

  She glances up at her mom before she says, “Marissa.”

  “Nice to meet you, Marissa.” He smiles. “How old are you? Seventeen?”

  She laughs. “I’m seven!”

  “Oh yeah. I should’ve known.” Finally, Nate glances up at me. Under his bright, happy veneer, I recognize something darker. “I have a niece your age.”

  My throat dries, and I swallow. I wonder what he’s trying to tell me with that look. ‘And a niece is all I’ll ever have’?

  “Does she live in the city?” Kendra asks. “Maybe we can get them together.”

  “No,” I answer for him. I don’t want this to continue. To me, Bell is sacred, and she doesn’t belong in this conversation. “I thought you went to work,” I say to Nate.

  “Not yet.” He straightens up and comes out of the apartment to stand by me. “You didn’t mention Finn had a family,” he says, looking dotingly on Marissa. “I would’ve tried to get to the heater sooner.”

  Everyone turns to me. “I . . .” I pause. “I guess I didn’t think of it.”

  “I figured. Anyway, I can’t fix the radiator right now. I need a part from the hardware store.” He looks at Finn. “If you can pick it up, I should be able to finish later. If that doesn’t work, though, it might need to be replaced.”

  Kendra makes a face. “So it’s going to stay this hot? Can’t the landlord do something?”

  “He’ll give you the runaround for weeks,” Nathan says. “I’d remove it, but you can bet your,” he glances at Marissa, “you-know-what the cold’s going to be worse.”