Page 110 of Frosting and Flames

She doesn’t answer, and I poke my head around the door frame. She’s staring at something on the bed, the comforter on the floor. “Rachel?”

She looks at me, distress all over her face. “What is this?” she asks in a shaky voice.

“What’s what?” I cross the room, finding what she’s pointing at. It’s a pair of sexy red underwear, stark against the white sheets. My first thought is that she was going to dress up as a surprise for me, but based on her expression, I don’t think that’s right. “It’s underwear.”

Her brows lift, as if she can’t believe my response. “And?”

I stare at them, not sure what she’s asking me. “Aren’t they yours?”

She huffs, the sound full of disbelief. “No, they’re not mine.”

“Oh. Then I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” There’s a beat of silence, and when I don’t respond, she repeats, “You don’t know how this lingerie got in your bed?”

The skepticism in her voice is clear, along with a touch of anger, but I’m not sure what else to say, confused as she is. What the hell is going on?

“You took off the covers and they were there?”

“Yes,” she says, as if I’m simple. “Whose are they?”

“I don’t know,” I repeat.

When she just stares at me, waiting for me to say more, I pause. “Wait. Do you think I had another girl over here or something?” I laugh, but she doesn’t join in, her expression stony. I quickly stop, clearing my throat. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Then how did they get here?”

My teeth grit, this bizarre situation spiraling out of control. “I don’t know. How many times can I say that?”

Her stoic face gives way, and it punches me straight in the gut. There’s anger and disappointment and devastation, each one cutting me. She turns and moves to the dresser, opening the bag she brought with her and pulling out clothes.

I approach her, reaching a hand out, but don’t touch her, afraid she might shake it off. “You believe me, right?”

She slides a new pair of underwear on, then a bra.

“Rachel,” I say, firmer. “You believe me.” I don’t make it a question. She has to believe me. This whole thing is ludicrous.

Tugging a shirt over her head, she says, “There’s lingerie in your bed. I don’t know what to believe.”

I quickly open my dresser drawer and grab a pair of boxers to put on, very conscious now that I’m naked and she’s not. “There’s no other woman. I wouldn’t even think about someone else. You know that.”

Her head lowers and I move to her side, turning her to face me. There are unshed tears in her eyes and she quickly turns, wiping them away.

“I’ve told you before. I missed all the signs with Kyle. I…” Her voice catches, and she pauses for a moment until she’s under control. “Of course I want to believe you. But I can’t trust my instincts when it comes to stuff like this. Especially when there’s stuff like that.” She gestures to the panties, still on the bed.

Panic touches me for the first time. She doesn’t believe me. And what is there to believe, exactly? There’s damning evidenceof… something right in front of her and I don’t have an explanation.

What the fuck is going on?

“Rachel.” Her name comes out rough, like my throat is full of gravel, and I don’t mean for it to sound like a plea, but desperation is closing in. “What are you saying?”

Now it’s her turn to say, “I don’t know.” She doesn’t meet my eye, only grabs a pair of jeans from her bag and puts them on. Her hands are shaking, movements rigid. “I need to think.”

“Think about what?” My voice cracks and I take a step toward her, then stop myself. I don’t want her to bolt. “There’s no possible way I could cheat on you. You’re it for me.”

Her eyes squeeze shut, shoulders taut, as if braced for a blow.

My heart is in my throat, pounding roughly, choking me with its intensity. I swallow past it, pushing out the words before I lose the nerve. I need to lay it all out on the line. “I love you.”

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