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Chapter no 27

The Wife Upstairs

I wake up the next morning in Adam’s bed.

The master bedroom has its own bathroom, and I can hear him showering. He’s singing. I try to identify the song. I think it’s something by Bruno Mars. He sounds very happy. At least, I’ve never heard him singing before, so I would think it means he’s happy.

He comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a big grin on his face. Yes, he’s definitely happy. I guess it’s been a long time for him since he’s gotten lucky. Maybe he was starting to think it might never happen again.

“Hey.” He leans over the bed and kisses me gently in the mouth, bringing back very nice memories of last night. I allow him to do it for a moment, then I pull away. “You’re finally up. You really know how to sleep, Sylvia.”

I avert my eyes as he lets the towel drop, and I don’t look up again until he throws on some clothes. I shouldn’t have done what I did last night. I should have pushed him away. But after the way he intervened when Freddy showed up, I wasn’t thinking straight.

“Adam,” I murmur. “Listen…”

His T-shirt sticks slightly to his damp chest. “Oh. Shit.” “What?”

The smile drops off his face. “You’re about to tell me that last night was a terrible mistake and we can’t ever do it again.”

“Well…” That’s exactly it. “It’s just that… Victoria…”

His brows bunch together. He sits on the edge of the bed next to me. “Sylvia, I love Victoria. You know that. I’ll always love her. But…”

“But?”

He rakes a hand through his wet hair. “Are you seriously going to make me complete that sentence? Victoria has major brain damage. We don’t have a marriage anymore. Am I telling you anything you don’t know?”

I drop my eyes. “No… but she’s still in there. Part of her, at least.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe a small part. I don’t know. But, Sylvia, I’m thirty-five years old. I want to take care of Victoria, and I’ll do that, but that can’t be it for me. It can’t. I mean, if this were it for my entire life, I…” He takes a deep breath. “I’d blow my brains out.”

Even though what he’s saying sounds awful, I can’t entirely blame him. He has been an amazing husband to Victoria up to this point. He has stood by her when a lot of spouses might not, especially somebody as young and handsome as he is.

But the part that really bothers me is I think there’s a bigger part of Victoria still in there than he is willing to admit. It would be one thing if she were a vegetable who never opened her eyes, but she’s not. She talks, albeit rarely. She knows what’s going on. She remembered when a bullet hit the tree outside the house. She knew when I was wearing her sweater. She claims there’s a gun hidden in Adam’s closet. And for some reason, that scares her.

But I get that he feels lonely. After all, Victoria isn’t capable of even a simple conversation anymore. And I can see why he feels having sex with her would be an ethical gray area. He admitted that ever since she’s been home, he’s had to take cold showers.

But this morning, he took a nice hot shower.

Adam leans forward and kisses me again. And God help me, I let him do it.

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