Page 3 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane
Bill nods, scratching at the stubble on his chin. When they were together, Bill shaved every morning, but Libby finds that the roguish look suits him.
“It’s important,” Libby continues, shaking away the thought, “that we present a united front on this. I’m sure he’s going to apply the pressure to you this weekend.”
“Yes, boss,” Bill replies with a mock salute, a smile breaking across his face that threatens to crack open Libby’s chest.
She hates how much power he still has over her, how much she still loves him, even after everything he’s put her through over the past eight months of their separation.
“I just need some space.” Bill had said it so casually, as if it weren’t a grenade tossed haphazardly onto everything they’d built together. “It’ll be good for us, Lib,” he’d assured her as she gaped at him, struggling to find her voice.
“But what about Lucas?” Libby could barely conceal the humiliating desperation that weaved its way through her words. She’d never thought she’d be the type of woman who would beg her husband to stay when he so clearly wanted to go. But yet, there she was,clinging to his hand while his eyes were already cast out the open door.
“We’ll figure something out,” he promised her, his voice calm and smooth, no trace of the panic that swept over her like a tidal wave. They’d been together since they were nineteen. Bill was the only man Libby had ever loved. How could she possibly imagine a future without him?
She looks at him now, popping a pod into her coffee maker, the dog they’d adopted together as a puppy lying at his feet, and reminds herself that this is only temporary. They’re just separated, not divorced. It’s probably just some sort of midlife crisis. Bill just needs to feel like he has some freedom before he sees how good he had it here. He’ll come around eventually, Libby is sure of it, and when he does, they can start to heal. Because as hurt as Libby is, when she said “Forever” in their wedding vows, she’d meant it. They’re just going to have to put in the work. Maybe he’ll even agree to see that marriage counselor Libby had suggested.
“Well, now that that’s settled, I’m going to head to work,” Libby says, sliding the strap of her purse onto her shoulder.
“Have a good day.” Bill leans over and kisses her tenderly on the cheek, before turning back to his coffee and adding a splash of his favorite hazelnut creamer that Libby hasn’t had the heart to remove from her weekly shopping list.
“Thanks,” she squeaks, her voice unsure and girlish to her ears. What wasthat?
She walks outside as if in a daze, the tingling imprint of Bill’s lips lingering on her skin. It’s a gorgeous sunny day and she breathes in the laden smells of summer—citrus and fresh-cut grass, mossy wood and rich earth—savoring the feeling of sunshine warming her face as she tilts it skyward.
Libby slides into her car and makes the conscious choice to ignore the check-oil light as she turns the key in the ignition and starts driving. She tries not to overthink the kiss. It’s something Bill has done thousands of times over the course of their eighteen years together. It could have just been force of habit, but Libby can’t help but feel like it was something more. A rekindling of an old flame.Maybe it’s still there, the spark they’d ignited so long ago. Maybe it wasn’t extinguished after all; maybe it has just been buried under years of marriage and mortgage payments.
Libby is so lost in her thoughts that she nearly doesn’t see the pretty blond woman stepping around the side of the moving van. She jams on the brakes; her tires squeal against the asphalt as she skids to a stop.That’soneway to meet my new neighbor…
3
Audrey
Hawthorne Lane
Audrey Warrington hears her phone buzz on her nightstand, and she gropes for it with a groan. On the screen is a new post in the Hawthorne Lane community forum about the fall festival.Halloween is three months away! Why the hell are we talking about it now?She tosses her phone aside without giving it a second thought. Her prim and proper neighbor Georgina, with her buttoned-up cardigans and her strands of pearls, is the last thing Audrey wants to be thinking about right now as she sinks back down into bed, savors the feeling of her bare skin against her new sheets. They’re mulberry silk and cost more than she’d be entirely honest with Seth about should he ever ask, but she knows that he never will because he never even noticed that she’d swapped out the old ones. In this moment, Audrey is certain they were worth every damn penny.
She hears the shower turn on in the en suite bathroom and pictures the hard lines of his body, the way the water will be running over his taut stomach, his muscular arms. The thought sends another wave of pleasure cascading through her body, curling at her toes. To say the sex was good would be an understatement. The sex wastranscendent.Which, Audrey is fully aware, sounds dramatic but in this case also happens to be true. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, looking down on herself moving, speaking, moaning in a way she hasn’t in years. Whowasthat person? God, she’d almost forgotten that her body was capable of feeling this way. How could she have forgotten?
The sudden sound of squealing tires grabs Audrey’s attention. Curious, she gets out of bed, covering her bare breasts with her thick, white duvet, and pads to her open window, where her gauzy curtains billow in the gentle summer breeze. She parts them slightly and looks down into the cul-de-sac below just in time to see Libby jump out of her car and race toward the frightened woman standing, hand to her chest, inches from the hood. She can’t hear what the two women are saying, but she watches as Libby gesticulates wildly, appearing to apologize profusely, while the other woman extends her hand, introducing herself. Audrey wonders whether the pretty young blonde is the new neighbor she’d read about on the community board. She’s glad that a property developer had the good sense to buy the old house that stood at 5 Hawthorne Lane and flip it. It had been an eyesore when it was owned by Ms.McGreely, the bitter octogenarian who didn’t believe in landscaping. But now it’s a lovely modernized colonial that blends neatly with the rest of the block.Well, no matter.Audrey turns away from the window. It seems that everyone is just fine, and if all her neighbors are finished interrupting her postcoital glow, Audrey would prefer to return to bed and enjoy it for a little bit longer.
It’s been hard, with Seth traveling so much, to keep the spark in their marriage alive. Audrey remembers now that it was like this in the early days. It’s coming back to her like muscle memory. The passion, the hot, driving need that pulled them together. But once Seth’s writing career took off, she felt like he was always gone—book tours, writers’ conferences, speaking engagements. Audrey lost her husband to the fictional world of the Detective Marlow series. After a while, even when he was home, he felt far away. There was a time when Audrey had been bitter about it. Angry, resentful, that Seth neglected their marriage so heavily in favor of his career, but eventually she became…indifferent. Which was probably worse, she’s beginning to realize. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel wanted, alive, her nerve endings fizzing with desire. And now, as though a switch has been flipped, she remembers. Holy hell does she remember.
Audrey hears the shower turn off, and in moments he’s leaning inthe doorway, a towel wrapped low on his hips, hot steam billowing out behind him. She has the sudden urge to go to him and lick the water droplets that cling to his broad, soap-scented shoulders, but she refrains. It’s been so long since she’s had torefrain.Instead, she props herself on her elbows, the duvet barely covering her breasts, and turns to him with a salacious smile, letting a shock of hair fall tantalizingly over one eye. She’s aware of her body, of how it looks to him as she lies here. Audrey knows she’s beautiful with her thick, dark hair, her olive skin, the fullness of her breasts, and the toned muscles in her long legs. Men have looked at her all her life; it’s something she’s become accustomed to, the heat of the male gaze on her skin. And at some point along the way, she learned how to use that power to her advantage.
“You coming back to bed?” she asks, her voice a seductive purr.
“I wish I could, but I have a meeting I can’t miss.”
She nods, masking her disappointment.
He begins to pull on his clothes—a crisply pressed blazer, an Armani tie. “Perhaps we could go out for a late dinner tonight, though.”
Audrey perks up at the idea of a repeat performance and then deflates just as quickly. “I have a drinks thing,” she laments with a dramatic groan. “For work.” Spending an evening sipping cosmos with her coworkers fromTop Cast,the magazine where she works as an executive editor, suddenly feels like the last thing in the world she wants to do tonight.
“Well,” he says as he draws closer and playfully bites her shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to reschedule.” His lips edge near her breast now, and she feels her heart pounding in her chest.How bad would it be for me to skip one work event?
“That is, if you really can’t miss it…” His warm mouth closes around her nipple, and her body quivers with want.Maybe I could feign a migraine?She feels herself coming undone, giving herself over to his mouth, his tongue, his roaming fingers…
And then her phone buzzes on the nightstand yet again and shatters the moment. His hands leave her body as abruptly as if a spell had been broken, and he resumes knotting his tie. Audrey sighs in frustration as she reaches for the offending phone, ready to toss itout the nearest window if it’s another asinine post from Georgina. But it isn’t.
