Page 23 of Unmatched

I set the phone down and turn to face her, hands clasped in front of me. “He doesn’t want to do it!”

She grunts.

I turn in a circle, feeling floaty, almost cheerful. Certainly better than I have since lunch. “I knew he couldn’t go through with it. This is...” I search for the right word. “This is great.”

Caprice looks from me to Heartthrob, who’s raised his head like he’s following the conversation, and folds her arms. “What about this is great?”

I check my screen again, holding it up so she can see his final message. “He isn’t going to cheat. He can’t. Because he loves me.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“He didn’t need to. If I don’t matter, what’s to stop him?”

She opens her mouth, closes it again, then drifts to her laptop at the counter, biting back whatever else was trying to fight past her lips. I set the phone down and start collecting my things. I pack up my computer and a stack of papers from The Pooch Park and finally grab Heartthrob’s leash. He stands and stretches, wagging his big arced tail.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say. “And putting up with us tonight.”

“You’re going home?” She raises her eyebrows, processing what I’m doing.

“Well, yeah.”

She slides off her stool. “Lydia, don’t take this the wrong way, but can I just point out that while you’ve been ‘working late’ tonight, he’s been home discussing butt play with another woman?”

I nearly drop my bag trying to get it over my shoulder. “He’s never touched anyone but me,” I say to the wall.

“If you believe that.”

“Look, you’ve never been married. Maybe you don’t get it,” I snap, wincing immediately at the flash of hurt in her eyes. Not so long ago, Caprice was engaged, but we try not to talk about that. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, taking in a shaky breath. “I just—I need to do this, Caprice. I need to go home and see if we can still make things right.”

She huffs, but when I open my eyes again, she shakes her head and wraps me in her arms, giving me a hug I didn’t realize I desperately needed. “Fine. I support you. I think your husband’s a jackass, but you do what you need to do.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“If you change your mind, you can always stay here. My door is open,” she says, pulling back and glancing at my dog. “Even for him.”

That’s a seriously generous offer, and I want her to know I’m grateful, so I manage a small smile. I place my hand on the doorknob but can’t quite figure out what comes next until Heartthrob nudges me with his nose, and somehow I pull it open.

“Maybe you guys should at least consider counseling?” Caprice suggests as I make my way into the hall.

“Probably,” I say, moving toward the elevators. Therapy would have to be better than divorce.

But as I exit her building into a sprinkle of spring rain, each step shakier than the last, my confidence plummets. Heartthrob jumps into the backseat when we reach my car, excited to be going home. But I sit for a long time staring through the raindrops on my windshield, wondering what will happen when we get there.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I stare at my blank phone screen, my fingers actually trembling. I can’t believe how far I let that go, how close I came to ruining everything. In some people’s eyes, I’m a cheater already. I broke my own rules, went looking for trouble—and dear God, did I find it. A girl with all of Lydia’s sexiest features, out there ready and willing to let me fuck her six ways to Sunday. Who I could message right now to say I’ve changed my mind.

It’s nearly nine p.m., and Lydia still isn’t home.

No one would have to know.

But when I imagine pulling my clothes off with LonelyGirl8, touching her skin instead of my wife’s, my insides burn.

I shove the phone deep into my pocket, afraid to unlock the screen again. I want nothing more than to wait up for Lydia, sweep her into my arms as she comes through the door, and carry her off to the bedroom.

Instead of climbing into bed together and politely avoiding her tits, her back, or—God forbid—brushing my dick against the globe of her ass. Everything would be different if I could act out the fantasies I just shared with a stranger, with her.

If she showed the remotest interest, I wouldn’t need the stupid app.

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