Page 45 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane
Audrey never planned on having an affair. In fact, all she’d planned to do the night it all began was work. She’d been in a martini bar in Manhattan wearing her favorite fitted sheath dress, a notepad on the table in front of her, waiting to meet with an artist, a flighty musician who’d given her junior staff the slip, for an interview. When her phone buzzed with a text, she knew, without even looking at the screen, that he was standing her up. Audrey was gathering her things to leave, already calculating when she might be able to reschedule, when the waiter brought her a drink, courtesy of thegentleman at the bar. She looked up to see Colin, her undeniably attractive neighbor, his own glass raised to her in a toast. Audrey slipped her notebook into her bag, pulled up a stool beside Colin. It was only polite, after all.
Several martinis later, they’d stumbled out onto the city street, the sidewalk lit by streetlights and jewel-toned neon signs. Colin raised one hand in the air in an attempt to hail a cab, but none stopped.
“I usually have better luck than this,” he’d joked as the fourth taxi whizzed by them.
Audrey smiled and shivered in her sleeveless dress, the night air prickling her skin. “It’s fine.”
“You’re freezing.” Colin immediately took off his suit jacket and draped it gently over Audrey’s shoulders. “Better?”
She looked up at him, surrounded by the smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body enveloping her. They stood so close that she could feel the electric charge running between them, and she saw something in his eyes: a burning desire she hadn’t seen from her own husband in so very long.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, one hand running the length of her hair.
Audrey felt a warm glow pulsing inside her, pieces of herself that had long lain dormant waking. When was the last time Seth had wanted her this way? When was the last time he’d really seen her?
Colin’s hand grazed her cheek and came to rest under her chin. He tilted her face up toward his.
She knew he was going to kiss her then and that once he did, there would be no turning back. But Audrey didn’t pull away; she allowed herself to be carried away in the rush of it, in the feeling of being wanted, desired, as Colin’s warm lips closed over hers. It was the beginning of the end.
The elevator doors slide open, and Audrey steps out. She glides through the airy lobby ofTop Cast,pushes open the heavy glass doors, and steps out onto the city sidewalk.
Suddenly, a figure dressed in all black jumps out and knocks her backward. Audrey gasps in alarm, her body going rigid with fear. Ittakes her a moment to realize what it is: a teenage boy in a Ghostface mask, the eyes wells of black, the mouth pulled into a demented, elongated scream. The boy laughs and tears down the street, his black robes twisting in the breeze behind him. Audrey swallows hard before she starts walking again, willing her heart to stop jackhammering against her ribs.
She forgot that it’s nearly Halloween. Soon her street will be overrun with families, children skittering through the cul-de-sac, sugary treats plunking in their orange plastic buckets. She reminds herself to pick up more candy. They ran out early last year, which was considered a cardinal sin on Hawthorne Lane.
Audrey turns around the corner of her building, picking up her pace as she heads toward Forty-Second Street and Grand Central Station.
That’s when she sees him, leaning against the building,herbuilding, as if he belongs here. Colin, in a charcoal-gray suit, his shoulder resting comfortably against the glass facade, his arms folded, his legs crossed casually at the ankles. He smiles at her, that dazzling smile that had once lured her in like a mariner following a Siren’s song to a watery grave.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says as he saunters toward her.
“I work here,” she grumbles. “As I’m sure you know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a train to catch.”
She breezes past him, her chin held high, though inside she’s trembling.
Colin matches her pace, easily striding beside her on his long legs. “Can’t even spare a moment then for anold friend?”
He sounds so smug, so tauntingly infuriating, that Audrey’s hands curl into fists at her side. She feels her nails digging into the soft pads of her palms.
“We’re notfriends,” she spits. “We were neverfriends.And whatever this is that you think you’re doing, it needs to stop. Now. You have no right to show up here and—”
He grabs her arm before she even realizes what’s happening and yanks her into a narrow alleyway between two buildings. Audrey feels her feet go out from under her, smells the heavy-sweet stenchof the nearby dumpsters, sees the butts of discarded cigarettes littering the pavement, and something snaps inside her. Suddenly she’s thrashing, desperate to get away, but Colin’s grip only tightens as he digs deeper into the muscles of her upper arm. She knows it’s going to bruise, leaving her with a branding in the shape of his fingers that she won’t be able to scrub away.
“That’s enough,” he says, a booming command.
Audrey stops, her breath a rapid staccato. She feels like an animal in a snare, desperate to run but aware that struggling will only make it worse.
She’s never seen this side of Colin before. She’d caught a passing glimpse of it at her front door, but not like this. It’s like she’s finally seeing him, the real him, standing before her, exposed for the first time. She can’t believe she’d ever been taken in by it, that the shine of his handsome appearance had been enough to hide the dark rot beneath it.
“That’s my girl,” he says as one hand slides up her body and cups her face. He trails his thumb along Audrey’s lower lip, and she feels her stomach turn over.
She should fight, she thinks. She should be doing something, anything except standing here and letting this happen. But her body isn’t moving. Why isn’t she moving?
He runs the back of his hand along the length of her hair now, slowly, as if memorizing the feel of it against his skin. “Isn’t it much easier when you do as you’re told?”
Audrey opens her mouth, her lips trembling, but no sound comes out. She feels as though she’s paralyzed.
Colin’s hand comes to rest beneath her chin; he tips her face up toward his, forcing her to look at him. “I asked you a question,” he says, gently now, almost tenderly, unfazed in the face of her terror. “Aren’t things easier when you do as you’re told?”
