Page 70 of Playing With Fire
Greg’s eyes darken and his jaw clenches, but not wanting to air our dirty laundry, he wraps an arm around my waist and kisses the side of my head. “Nice guy. Hudson is the KPS driver that delivers to our neighborhood,” he explains, oversharing unnecessarily. “Brought flowers to Shan once after waking Serafina from a nap.” His fingers dig painfully in my hip as he talks. “Seems to have developed a little crush on my wife.”
“And not bad to look at,” Renee says, giggling into her champagne flute.
Needing the conversation to move away from Hudson, I direct my attention to Simon and ask how the firm is doing. Thankfully, neither Simon nor my husband can resist talking about themselves so I’m spared from having to answer more probing questions for about forty minutes.
But then they start talking about the upcoming retreat.
“Oh, it’s going to be so wonderful,” Renee sings. “Shannon, are you going to be able to make it? I remember you said your attendance was questionable due to your new job. Congratulations by the way."
“Oh, Shannon, I didn’t know you went back to work,” Simon says, his tone slightly disapproving.
“I did,” I reply curtly. “I’ll be driving down to the resort on Friday evening after I get off.” Then just to try and repair some of the damage Renee has done, I add, “I wouldn’t miss the partner banquet in Greg’s honor.”
I’m not sure if these two can pick up on the tension between Greg and I or if they’re just happy to go along with the script and ignore it, but they smile dutifully as Simon praises Greg for all his recent hard work.
“Yes, he’s more than earned his partnership. They took a little too long to offer it if you ask me. I feel good about what you’re going to do for the firm with the Ellington case you took over from Driscoll. Court date’s been set, right?”
Greg nods. “Starts right after we get back from the Outer Banks as a matter of fact. It’s important for all of us that he walks, eh?” Greg laughs and clinks his glass with Simon’s. The gesture makes me uneasy, like I’m missing something.
As our evening winds down, I say my goodbyes and head inside to clean up while Greg walks our guests to their car. I’m trying to brace myself for the shit I’m going to catch about my outing with Hudson as a thought occurs to me…I need to let Hudson know.
Shannon
Greg knows about the aquarium. I suspect he’ll be paying more attention so I can’t call or text for a while. Please don’t give up on me.
Once I hit send, I quickly delete the text, praying Hudson doesn’t text me back, and clear his number from my call log before slipping the phone back into the pocket of my slacks.
I had once told Hudson that I didn’t think Greg would physically hurt me, but I’ve never pushed him this far and the truth is, I just don’t know anymore.
When I hear the garage door lowering, signaling that our guests are gone, my hands grow clammy.
I avoid Greg’s eyes like the guilty party I am when he moves to the end of the island and just waits until I look up at him.
“That was lovely.” I smile, trying to keep my voice even.
Greg wastes no time. “Are you kidding me, Shannon? Thedeliveryguy? Are you fucking him?”
I know it’s splitting hairs, but in this moment, I’m thankful Hudson stopped us that night so that based on the literal definition offucking, I can honestly say no.
“Absolutely not, Greg.” I don’t go to him. I don’t make excuses or try to explain it further than that.
“I’m supposed to believe you just happened to run into Mr. Popping Muscles With The Flowers on a random Friday at the aquarium?”
Desperation. That’s the only reason I can think that I’ve gotten careless. I should never have agreed to meet Hudson in public, especially knowing Renee’s connection there, but I wanted to see him so badly, I’d convinced myself we wouldn’t get caught. Now, my main concern is protecting Hudson at all costs.
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t,” Greg replies.
There are so many things I want to say like,our ship has sailed. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention when I needed it,but I bite my tongue, knowing that won’t help the situation.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I reply honestly, keeping my hands busy with the remainder of the kitchen clean up. I pour the untouched olives back in their jar, scoop the remaining crackers back in their package and replace the clip, rinse the cookie sheets that held the jalapeño poppers, all while Greg stands there watching me.
While I’m at the sink, he moves behind me and brushes myhair off my neck.
I flinch.
“You’re acting guilty, Shannon.”
