Covet

  “Hi,” I say. “Are you on your dinner break?”

  “Yep,” he says. “What are you doing?”

  “Skip just picked up Josh. He’s going to the races with him and Travis. Jordan is at a slumber party.”

  Daniel processes this information quickly, and mere seconds pass before he asks, “Is he still out of town?”

  “Yes, he’s not flying home this weekend at all.”

  “Can you come over later?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “I’ll try to get off early. You might have to wait a little while.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll watch TV or read until you get home.” I’ve known since I received Elisa’s call that I would say yes when he asked.

  I finish a few things around the house and by eight fifteen I’m pulling into Daniel’s driveway. There’s a light on, in the kitchen I think, but maybe he forgot to turn it off before he left for work. I punch the code into the garage keypad and wait for the door to go up.

  I open the door leading into the house and walk down the hallway, freezing in place when a man saunters out of the kitchen. He looks like a slightly younger version of Daniel, but a bit scruffier, and if I wasn’t so sure of who it was, I’d be turning on my heel to bolt. His hair is longer, his jeans are ripped, and the well-worn leather jacket he’s wearing gives him the opposite appearance of his clean-cut sibling. He holds a bottle of beer in his hand and he raises it to his mouth and takes a drink.

  We study each other. “You must be Dylan,” I finally say.

  “I am.” He takes a step forward, scrutinizing me. “Who are you?”

  “Claire. I’m a friend of Daniel’s.”

  His face transforms, and I see firsthand what Daniel meant when he said Dylan was a charmer; his eyes all but twinkle. “Daniel never mentioned you,” he says, coming closer. “I wonder why that is. Want a beer?”

  “No thanks.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” I leave the kitchen and sit down on the couch in the living room, thumbing through the magazine that I left on Daniel’s coffee table a week ago. Dylan follows and makes himself at home, sitting in the leather chair that’s angled toward the couch.

  “I didn’t see a car,” I say.

  “A friend dropped me off.”

  “Did Daniel know you were coming?” I’d love to whip out my phone and send Daniel a text, but I’m pretty sure the message and recipient would be painfully obvious to Dylan.

  “Maybe,” he says vaguely, placing his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. I glance discreetly at my watch. It’s only eight thirty. Hopefully Daniel won’t be much longer.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Claire.”

  I shake my head. “Not much to tell.”

  I’m saved from any further questioning when headlights sweep into the driveway. The garage door goes up, and a minute later, Daniel walks into the house. He doesn’t miss a beat when he sees his brother. From what Daniel has told me, Dylan’s appearances are sporadic and rarely planned.

  “When did you show up?” he asks.

  “Right before your girl.”

  Daniel shakes his head and mutters, “I don’t know why I ever thought giving you the garage code was a good idea.”

  “Thanks for the warm welcome,” Dylan says sarcastically, but his self-satisfied expression tells me he enjoys getting under Daniel’s skin.

  “Are you staying here tonight?” Daniel asks.

  “Nope. Just dropped by to say hey.”

  Daniel catches my eye and smiles. He cocks his head in the direction of the bedroom and motions for me to come with him. I follow him down the hall and he closes the door once we’re both inside.

  “I’m glad you came,” he says.

  We haven’t had an evening together since the night we dined at Bella Cucina, when I fell asleep on Daniel’s lap. I vow there will be no repeat of that tonight, but I’m happy to be here with him.

  I sit down on the bed as Daniel takes his gun out of the holster and opens the closet door. Crouching down, he opens the door of a small safe and places the gun inside. He unclips his radio and flashlight and connects them to the chargers that sit on the dresser. He takes off his belt and hangs it up in the closet.

  “I’m not really in the mood for Dylan tonight.” Daniel unbuttons the shirt of his uniform and takes it off. His T-shirt and body armor follow, leaving him in just his pants. Daniel’s physical attributes rarely capture my attention, but occasionally, like right now, they’re hard to ignore. “I have no idea how long he’ll be here,” he says.

  “That’s okay,” I say.

  Daniel pauses with his hand on his zipper. “I don’t mind at all if you stay, but I’m going to take off my pants.”

  I stand up immediately and he chuckles. “Thanks for the warning,” I say, smiling. “I’ll be in the living room.”

  Dylan has helped himself to another beer and he’s slouched in the chair where we left him, looking bored. Daniel, now wearing jeans and a T-shirt, grabs his own beer from the kitchen and joins me on the couch.

  “So,” Dylan says. “You and Claire. Is it serious? Mom and Dad didn’t mention her.”

  I can’t believe he asked that right in front of me. It’s as if he’s ignoring the fact that I’m sitting right here. Ignoring it or he just doesn’t care.

  “You’ve seen them?” Daniel asks.

  “I stopped by earlier.”

  “Wow, you really are making the rounds,” Daniel says, taking a drink of his beer. He sets down the bottle. “Mom and Dad have never met Claire.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Dylan says. He turns toward me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll introduce you at some point. He’s very proper that way.”

  His patronizing tone irks me. “I’m not worried,” I say.

  “It’s doubtful that I’ll be introducing Claire,” Daniel says.

  “Oh come on, give it time. You’ll get there eventually.”

  I can’t be sure if Dylan’s condescending attitude is genuine or just an affectation. It’s like watching someone play the part of the wronged and bitter sibling in a live stage play. Like it’s a game for Dylan. Look what a big asshole I can be.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure we won’t, because Claire is married,” Daniel says.

  “You’re kidding,” Dylan says. His eyes flick from Daniel and then back to me.

  Though it probably shouldn’t, it pleases me a bit that Dylan didn’t see that coming.

  He lets out a long, low whistle. “Wow, you’ve got some balls.” Dylan starts laughing, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What a fascinating juxtaposition. My brother, whose sole mission in life is to catch the wrongdoers, is messing with another man’s wife.”

  “Sorry to ruin all your fun, but we’re just friends,” Daniel says, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “Then those balls must be blue as hell because I can tell from all the way over here how much you want her.”

  He did not just say that.

  In a commanding tone, the kind he must reserve for the most hardened and serious offenders, Daniel says, “Get out.”

  “Oh come on, Dan. Surely we can have this conversation. I mean, if there’s really nothing going on between the two of you.”

  “Claire?” Daniel says. He doesn’t want me present for the epic argument they’re about to have, and I know by the tone of his voice what he’s asking. Looking over at him, I nod and walk down the hallway to his bedroom. I barely get the door shut and sit down cross-legged on Daniel’s bed before the fighting starts.

  Their voices carry, but I can’t make out every word. Either they’re cognizant of the fact that I can still hear them or they’re trying hard to keep it civil. It really doesn’t matter because they abandon this censoring almost immediately, and it doesn’t ta
ke long before Daniel really lets loose. I will not be surprised if one of them throws a punch.

  “You waltz into town, show up uninvited, and make a statement like that in front of a woman you met less than an hour ago? I know you don’t give a shit about anything or anyone, but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Touched a nerve, did I?”

  “I don’t need you to offer your commentary on a situation you know nothing about.”

  “Well, you sure seem to want to give me your opinion on how I should live my life. You judge me constantly,” Dylan yells.

  “That’s because you make fucking horrible choices!”

  “How sanctimonious of you, especially considering the circumstances of your current relationship,” Dylan retaliates. “Call it whatever you want, but a married woman doesn’t let herself in on a Saturday night to wait for you if you’re just friends. And by the way, this shit never ends well.”

  “Yes, you’re such an expert. You come and go whenever you feel like it and you’re gone again before anyone can get too comfortable. Don’t talk to me about my relationships, or how I spend my time. I’ve got this.”

  “Really? You gonna build a life with her like you had with Jessie? Is she going to leave her husband for you?”

  “I didn’t ask her to leave her husband,” Daniel says.

  “Well, if she doesn’t, she’s just playing you, man.”

  There’s more than a bit of truth to this statement, and hearing it out loud stings a bit. I’m not playing Daniel, but the truth is I have no intention of ripping my family apart. I never have.

  “You know what, Dylan? We’re done here. I’m sure you’ve got someplace you need to be.” Daniel sounds more resigned than angry, like the fight’s been drained right out of him.

  A door slams and the house goes silent. Moments later, Daniel walks into the bedroom. I swing my legs around so that I’m sitting on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. Before I can stand up, Daniel crosses the room and kneels down in front of me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” I smile sympathetically, knowing he’s probably worn out. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel leans in a bit so that his upper body is between my legs. He places his hands flat on the bed, alongside my hips. Not quite touching them, but close. “I’m used to it. Dylan and I are never going to see eye to eye on anything. We just won’t.”

  It’s so quiet and he’s so near. I fight the urge to run my fingers through his hair. “He’s right,” I say. “I don’t think anyone would understand if they knew how much time we spent together. Our phone calls. The texts . . .” It’s our thing, mine and Daniel’s. I don’t know any other way to explain it.

  “Do you want me to stop calling you? Stop texting?” Daniel places his hands on my hips, pressing firmly, pulling me a few inches closer. The feel of his hands on me sends delicate shivers over my skin. My heart pounds and I feel the pressure, the ache, start to build between my legs. My body ignores the panicked signals my conscience is sending in favor of the more pleasurable sensations. Even more alarming, I think Daniel can sense how turned on I am. It’s the way he’s staring at me, observing my breathing and the flush I can feel heating my skin. I’m in way over my head, but I’m momentarily paralyzed and can’t seem to make myself swim to safer waters.

  I answer his question with one of my own. “What he said? Is it true?” I already know the answer; I have for months. Just because we’ve never acted on it doesn’t mean I don’t hear the desire in his voice. See it in his eyes. But I want him to say it out loud.

  “Of course it’s true,” he says. “But it’s so much more than that.”

  When Daniel changed my flat tire he told me that friendship was all he was interested in, but I’m not entirely certain that he was telling the truth that night. Or maybe he was, because he thought he could handle it. Just like me.

  My suspicions are confirmed a moment later when he stands and pulls me to my feet. Holding me close, his arms wrapped around me, he looks me in the eye and says, “I have no right to say this, and I’d never ask you to leave him.” Daniel’s voice is barely a whisper, but in the dead-silent room I have no trouble hearing what he says next. “But I wish you were mine.”

  49

  daniel

  I watch Claire drive away after I walk her to her car. I shouldn’t have said that to her. I could blame it on Dylan, but I won’t. Telling Claire the truth about how I feel was the one thing I told myself I could never do if I wanted her to keep coming back. And I do want her to come back.

  Once I’m back inside the house I gather up the empty beer bottles and throw them in the bin in the garage, then sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. I click aimlessly through the channels and finally shut it off.

  I wanted Claire so much. I wanted to kiss her and take her clothes off and lay her down on my bed. I know she wanted me, too. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her breathing. Not capitalizing on it was the right thing to do, but unfortunately I don’t feel noble at all and I sure as hell don’t feel satisfied.

  I don’t know what I was thinking taking things so far with Claire.

  And maybe it’s better that I don’t keep dragging things out with a woman who belongs to someone else.

  50

  claire

  The doorbell rings in the afternoon two days later. I open the door and find Bridget standing on my porch, tears running down her face. “What is it?” I ask.

  “We’re going to lose our home.”

  I pull her inside, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Sam lost it all. Our savings, the boys’ college funds, our retirement account. Everything. He got fired six months ago.”

  I think back to the day when I saw the man who looked like Sam walking into the credit union.

  “He thought he could hide it from me, make gambling his full-time job.” She drags the sleeve of her sweatshirt across her red-rimmed eyes. “The bank will take possession of the house on Friday.”

  Bridget loves her home. Her style is more ornate than any of ours, even with all those boys running around. She won’t spend a cent more than she needs to on her wardrobe, and jewelry isn’t her thing, but she’ll hunt down a bargain on cashmere throws and plush rugs. The perfect crystal sculpture or one-of-a-kind painting. Her state-of-the-art kitchen, complete with a fireplace and a small nook where she can drink a cup of coffee and read the newspaper, is her favorite room in the whole house, and she spends hours there making Sam and the boys their favorite meals.

  “Oh, Bridget,” I say, pulling her into my arms. She sobs and I rub her back until she calms down. When she pulls away she sighs and tucks her short hair behind her ears. “I told him the gambling stops right now. He gets help and changes his ways, or we’re done.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “Yes. He’s at a Gamblers Anonymous meeting right now.”

  I take her by the hand and lead her into the kitchen. “Sit down. Do you want some tea?”

  She shakes her head. “No thanks. I just wanted to talk to somebody.”

  “Do the other girls know?”

  “Not yet. Can you tell them? I’m just so ashamed and embarrassed. My poor boys, Claire. They’re old enough to understand. I can’t hide this from them.”

  “They’ll be okay. Not right this second, maybe, but eventually.” I hand Bridget a box of Kleenex and she wipes her eyes. “You’ll get through it as a family.”

  “I should have paid attention. I should have taken more of an interest in our finances instead of letting Sam take care of everything. It might not have gotten so bad and I wouldn’t have been blindsided. I feel so foolish.”

  “Where will you go?” I ask. At that moment I’m furious with Sam. How dare he take his whole family down with him?

  “We’ll stay with my parents for a while, bu
t I think it’s safe to say that their condo is not remotely large enough to hold all of us. If I can get back on at the hospital, I’ll rent something.”

  I put my arm around Bridget’s shoulders as the sound of her sobbing fills my kitchen, and we stay like that until she’s all cried out. “I’ll do anything I can to help,” I say.

  “Thanks, Claire.”

  I walk her to the door and watch as she disappears into the house that’s no longer going to be hers.

  Daniel is on duty, but he calls shortly before I have to go meet the school bus. What happened the night of Dylan’s visit was a big wake-up call and we’re both trying hard to pretend that what he said didn’t change anything.

  “How’s your day been?” he asks.

  “Good. How about you?”

  “Great. I’m just taking a quick break.”

  We’re overly cautious on the phone. Gone is the flirting tone I hadn’t even realized I’d been using until I stopped using it and noticed how different I sounded. Daniel pauses before he speaks, as if he’s weighing each word, choosing the ones that won’t send me fleeing. The ones that aren’t so brutally honest. So heavy.

  “Are you off on Thursday?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll come by.”

  “That would be great,” he says.

  I can hear the relief in his voice. “I need to go meet the kids. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  When he walked me to my car last Saturday night he asked me point-blank if I’d be back. “I’ll understand if you say no.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could. Realizing how close I’d come to crossing a line that would cause serious repercussions in my marriage had shaken me. Brought to light just how naïve I’d been. Because if Daniel hadn’t remained a gentleman, hadn’t been the one to end the embrace and take a literal step backward like he did, I’m not sure what would have happened.