Page 76 of The Tenant
He isn’t—at all. On top of work, he religiously goes to the gym twice a week, and he’s closer to a six-pack than a gut. And also, when has he ever cared about that? Who does he need to impress? After all, I’m already in love with him.
Blake comes closer to give me a kiss, and I expect it to be one of our usual long, lingering kisses that often leads to the bedroom. But instead, it’s a peck on the lips. The sort you give your wife of forty years.
And when he pulls away, I notice something else:
His shirt is buttoned wrong.
I’m going to wager that there is no way Blake went through his entire sixteen-hour day with his shirt missing a button. At some point, he unbuttoned his shirt. And then hastily buttoned it again before coming home.
Also, I smell perfume.
But no, I’m being paranoid. Blake wouldn’t cheat on me. He is a good guy, unlike Jordan. He wants to spend his life with me. He wants to fill the bedrooms upstairs with children. He loves me.
And yet…
I run my fingers down his chest. “You know,” I say playfully. “I’m not very tired. Any chance you want to have a little fun?”
“Krista.” He looks at me in astonishment. “It’s one in the morning!”
That has never stopped him before. We have had sex at all hours of the night. He isalwaysin the mood if I am.
Except right now, apparently.
He leans in to peck my lips again. “Sorry, I’m just beat tonight. That Henderson campaign is kicking my ass. But tomorrow…” He manages a tiny smile. “I’m going to rock your world, okay? Rain check?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, crestfallen.
He looks at me for a moment, then surprises me by pulling me in tight for a hug. “I love you, Krista. So much. I can’t wait to marry you, babe.”
“I love you too,” I say back.
I do love him. So much.
But I don’t trust him.
48
Blake snores.
It’s not loud enough to be intolerable. It’s a soft sound, somewhere between heavy breathing and an outright snore. Occasionally, it’s annoying, but mostly I think it’s sort of cute. You know that you like a guy when you’re into his snoring.
But the important thing is that if he’s snoring, that means he is asleep.
I creep around the side of the bed, watching his face to make sure he doesn’t wake up. When I get to his nightstand, I pick up his phone where it’s charging. Blake has been talking about getting a new phone for a while, but he hasn’t gotten around to it because he’s been working nonstop. And now I’m glad, because his old phone still has fingerprint recognition.
As gently as I can, I take Blake’s thumb and press it into the pad of the phone. Right away, he notices something has disturbed him. He lets out a groan, then flips over in bed, mumbling something in his sleep. I hold my breath, expecting his eyes to fly open.
But they don’t. He’s still asleep. And a second later, he starts snoring again.
Blake’s phone is now unlocked. Which means I have access to his emails, his photographs, and his text messages. I can look at whatever I want.
Some people would say this is a violation of privacy. But if the two of us are going to be married, if we’re starting a whole new life together, there should be no secrets between us. What is mine is his and what’s his is mine. And since this phone is his, then it is actually mine. And I have every right to look at it.
I think it’s extremely unlikely that there are any incriminating emails or photographs, so I go straight for his text messages. It’s the expected mix of texts from his work colleagues and way too many from his boss. For the most part, it’s reassuringly uninteresting. There’s only one name that stands out to me.
Stacie.
Stacie is Blake’s boss’s assistant, and it’s my understanding that she also often serves as the assistant to the entire office. I met her at the Christmas party last year, and she was outright stunning in a low-cut dress that left very little to the imagination. Yet not the slightest bit out of Blake’s league.
