Page 32 of The Tenant
I shrug. “I guess you got some lipstick on my collar. What? That’ll come off in the wash.”
Krista whips her head around to glare at me. “I donothave any lipstick this shade.”
My gaze darts between the bright red on the collar and Krista’s lips, which show no trace of whatever she had on them today. I look at her blankly, because how would I know what shades of lipstick she owns?
“I only wear pink,” she says pointedly. “Because of my complexion.”
That could be true. I can’t say I recall her ever wearing bright red lipstick in all the time we’ve been together.
So how the hell did red lipstick get on my collar?
I can’t even begin to imagine how it could have happened, but from the look on Krista’s face, she has a better imagination than I do.
“Krista.” I try to touch her shoulder, and she jerks away. “You don’t really think I’m cheating on you, do you?”
“If you weren’t cheating on me, how did you end up with lipstick on your collar?” Her eyes widen. “Is that why you didn’t want me doing your laundry?”
“No!” I tug the shirt away from her, examining the lipstick on the collar, racking my brain to try to figure out how it ended up there. “I really don’t know. Maybe I left my shirt lying around and some of Whitney’s lipstick got on it.”
“Whitney never wears lipstick.”
That is true. She never seems to wear any makeup. But my gut is telling me that Whitney had something to do with this.
“What if Whitney came into our bedroom while we were both out and rubbed lipstick on my shirts?” I suggest. “She was probablyhopingyou would see it. She wants me to get in trouble with you.”
“Is that seriously your answer?” Krista puts her hands on her hips as she glares at me. “Whitney came into our bedroom and rubbed lipstick on all your clothes? Seriously? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Yes, I absolutely do. But I can tell from the way Krista is saying it that the right answer is no. “Listen,” I say. “I genuinely don’t know how the lipstick ended up on my collar. But I promise you, I was not messing around on you. I would never do that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Krista.” I try to tamp down the feeling of panic rising in my chest. “You can’t possibly believe I’m cheating on you. Please tell me you don’t really think that.”
Krista sinks to the bed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know anymore. Honestly, Blake, you’ve been acting so strangely lately.”
“Acting strangely?”
“You must know what I mean,” she murmurs. “You barely sleep. You’re always ranting and raving about something, including noises during the night that nobody can hear but you. And you are so weirdly paranoid about Whitney. I mean, Whitney seems perfectly nice to me.”
Right. Of course she’s nice to Krista. Krista isn’t the one she has the inexplicable vendetta against.
“Krista.” I hold out my arms, still covered in that itchy, red rash. “Anyone would be acting strangely if they were dealing with this. It’s driving me out of my mind. Christ, do you really think I’m in any mindset to be having anaffairright now?” I bend down, trying to make eye contact. “Who would even want me? I look like I should be at a leper colony!”
That coaxes the tiniest smile out of her. I sit beside her on the bed, and she actually lets me hold her hand, although I don’t attempt to put my arm around her. A kiss would be out of the question.
“I’m sorry this rash is making me nuts,” I say. “I understand it looks bad that there was lipstick on my clothing, but I swear to you I don’t know where it came from. I swear on my life.” I chew on my lower lip. “Do you believe me?”
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
“I…I guess so,” she finally says. “I have to admit, it’s hard to imagine you having an affair when you can’t go five seconds without scratching yourself everywhere.”
I squeeze her hand. “Exactly. I don’t want to kiss any other women. All I want is some prescription cortisone cream.”
That gets a laugh out of her. “I know you’re suffering, and you’re trying your best. That’s why I wanted to do your laundry for you.”
“Okay,” I agree. “But only for a little while. I don’t want this to be a permanent arrangement.”
Only until we get Whitney the hell out of here.
