Page 34 of Say You Love Me

“You didn’t need to bring anything.” Finity stares at the bottle as she stands back from the doorway to let him inside.

“This is awkward, isn’t it? It’s strange.” He laughs as he talks. It’s plain to see he’s anxious. And by the look of it, a little drunk. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but I am.” He leans close to Finity. “I’m nervous to meet your husband.”

“Don’t be silly,” Finity says, walking toward the kitchen. “He’s the one who wanted to invite you over.”

He hasn’t noticed me watching from the other room and the way he’s looking at Finity makes my blood pulse heavily.He looks at her as though he wants to devour her. As though she’s Little Red Riding Hood and he’s the fucking wolf.

Finity told me he’s twenty-six, eight years younger than her and ten years younger than me, but he could pass for even younger. He has dark hair that hangs in messy curls in his eyes. He’s got a slight body, slender and lithe with youth, unlike mine which has been carved by years of working out. His face is dotted in freckles. And when he’s not smiling, he looks sad. Like a puppy.

She pours him a glass of wine. “Come on through to the living room and I’ll introduce you to Hudson.”

“Hudson,” he mutters under his breath as though he’s scared of forgetting my name.

I rush to the couch and lean back as though I’ve been there all along. I get to my feet when Finity introduces us and stretch out my hand. He dips his head in deference, almost as though he feels guilty about thoughts he has about my wife. I squeeze his hand hard and burn my glare into his.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

His eyes dart to mine and there’s a flash of fear. “All good, I hope.” He laughs.

“Of course. I appreciate how much you were there for Finity. It’s good she had someone to lean on while she was at the center.”

Rylee runs his hands down his jeans.

Finity hands me a glass of wine and I move it in the direction of the dining room. “Shall we?”

I never asked Finity what he was at the center for, but if it was for alcohol addiction, he’s sliding backward in a hurry. He drinks his glasses of wine quickly, and I re-fill them just as quickly. Finity shakes her head when I leave the table to collect another bottle, but I ignore her. I want his defenses lessened.

He chats easily, relaying stories of flatmates and the horrors of seven people living in a three-bedroom house. He only plays with his food, barely eating any of it. Finity’s eyes keep darting to mine. She’s nervous. She’s suspicious of why I insisted he come for dinner, but she doesn’t ask.

I reach across and push her hair over her shoulder. Rylee’s eyes snap to the movement, watching as I rest my hand on her flesh, rubbing my thumb back and forth over the exposed skin. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Finity is kidding herself if she doesn’t think this guy has feelings for her. He watches her every move, almost drooling when she looks at him. I ask him a question and he can’t even tear his gaze away from where my thumb rubs back and forth as he answers. He wants to be the one touching her. And strangely, I want to be the one watching him when he does.

I get to my feet abruptly and Rylee almost jumps, his eyes locking to mine apologetically.

“Why don’t you two head outside for a smoke while I clear these plates away,” I suggest.

Rylee laughs. “So you didn’t manage to give up, huh?”

Finity’s looking at me curiously. She has no idea I knew she was smoking. She’s done her best to hide it from me, but it’s hard to disguise the scent of nicotine.

“Away you go,” I encourage her.

“I’m all out,” she says to Rylee as she leads him outside. “You’re going to have to give me one.”

“Well, I suppose I’m still in your debt in that regard considering all the smokes I bummed off you at the center.”

Their voices fade as the door shuts behind them. After clearing the plates away, I leave them on the kitchen bench and walk into the living room. The curtains are open but the lights aren’t on so they can’t see me watching.

Rylee stands just behind Finity. I think it’s so he can stare at her. He has this wistful look in his eyes, it’s pure longing. He runs his gaze over her body but snaps it back to her face each time she talks. They laugh and streams of smoke float into the air. Finity looks happy. She looks happier than I’ve seen her in months. Rylee’s hand hovers in the air, just behind her. I know he wants to reach out and touch her. And I want him to as well. I want to whisper encouragement in his ear. I want to feel his excitement, his nerves, I want to see his fingers tremble as they trace over the skin of my wife.

I’m sure it must be the wine that gives him the courage, because he isn’t the bold type. His gaze flicks back to the window, and for a second I think he must see me, but then he casually rests his hand on the curve of her waist.

Finity freezes at his touch then moves away.

Rylee laughs and pleads for her forgiveness as she tosses the spent butt of her cigarette into the garden. He watches her as she walks, sucking on his cigarette hungrily, as though he wished it were her skin. She walks straight into the kitchen and pours herself another glass of wine.

“Why are you standing in the dark?” She asks as she comes into the living room, her hand reaching up to flick on the light switch.

I cover her hand with my own, stopping her. “Why did you move away?” I ask. My voice is already deep with lust.

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