Page 19 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

I turned away hastily before she could see my face, but the rejection stung.

It was just jarring to see Clementine like this. When we had been together, she had always looked at me with starry-eyed adoration. Always eager to hear about my day, eager to tell me about hers, and since obviously I couldn’t talk about my day at the imaginary accounting firm, I always encouraged her to talk.

And while she talked I was able to disassociate, forget about everything else besides her animated hazel eyes as she told me all about her design classes and the projects she was working on.

It was nice. Soothing.

Maybe that was what I had been missing in these recent years. Someone to talk to me, someone to look at me like that.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I could have had relationships if I wanted them. I had been in brief relationships before, and they always felt stifling, choking me with the pressure and intimacy.

So why was I thinking nostalgically about this, when it hadn’t even been real?

I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back as I threw myself into making dinner. She didn’t have any frozen garlic bread, so I whipped up a quick Irish loaf and made garlic butter from scratch.

As I chopped kale and butter lettuce for a salad, I glanced over at her again. She was still ignoring me totally.

Another spark of annoyed irritation sizzled up my spine.

This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

And how did you want it to go? my brain wondered before I clamped down on the question and shoved it relentlessly back in the recesses of my brain.

If I was hoping the painstakingly cooked dinner would soften Clementine, it did not.

She still refused to engage, only responding with brief, clipped answers to any question I asked her. She must be doing well with her costume designing if she was able to buy such a nice house and car, but it grated on me that she hated me so much that she wouldn’t share anything with me.

After supper, she changed and went outside to do yoga. I moved to the sink to do the dishes.

Why did I care so much what she thought of me? I wondered uneasily.

Had it just been too long since I’d had sex? I felt as fucking horned-up as a teenager.

This visit was supposed to be about making sure Clementine was protected and apologizing for any regrettable pain I had caused her in the course of doing my duty.

Nothing more.

So why did it hurt so badly that she refused to accept my apology?

I tried to reassemble the pillars of my righteousness.

The importance of the investigation.

The crimes that Harvey Adler had committed.

The absolute necessity for my deception to be able to get information on the subject.

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