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“Don’t apologise. That was amazing, Odette. Better than I could have imagined.”
“I wasn’t… bad?”
He kissed my neck. “You were… fucking perfect.”
50
THE OTHER WOMAN
ODETTE
When I entered the kitchen, I found the dishwasher open and three mugs on the counter, as if the house’s occupants had hurriedly left.
“You just left the dishes?” I giggled. “Why?”
“I was far too focused on the beautiful woman who appeared at my door,” Wyatt said.
I blushed. Wrapping my arms around him, I said, “Okay. Well, can I help?”
“No. I’ve got this. Make yourself comfortable. Do you want some lunch? We can go out, or I’ve got some stuff for sandwiches. Although I’m realising I’m a terrible host for not getting any non-meat options.”
“Peanut butter? I’m not fussy.”
“I have some of that for Theo if you don’t mind. And we have some strawberry preserves.”
“I would be pleased with that. You don’t have to fuss. I’m down with low-key on a Saturday morning.”
“You’re beyond sweet.”
I wandered into the open-plan living room.
“Can we make a fire later?” I asked.
“Theo wouldlove that. Yes.”
“I love a nice, cosy day by the fire,” I said, looking at the pictures on the hearth.
There was one of a couple I was sure was Wyatt’s parents. They were dressed like any other couple for a wedding—lots of bridal white. A sea of bridesmaids and groomsmen flocked them on either side. I always marvelled at howbigAmericans made weddings. It was all so grandiose. The man beamed down at the woman as she smiled back.
“Is this your parents’ wedding photo?” I asked.
“Yes,” Wyatt said. “Dad passed when I was young. Mom was widowed about the same age I was. Heart attack in Dad’s case. Awful.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I get it. They were lovely together. You have his smile.”
“So I am told by my mother,” Wyatt said. “He loved us all so much—but he lived for Mom.”
I turned to a photo of Theo as a baby, sitting in a snowsuit somewhere outside. His cheeks were even chubbier then.
“Theo was an adorable baby.”
“Yeah. That was taken just out behind the house. He was sitting up. We took him out on a hike. He loved to be worn in the carrier when we went out. Isla loved carrying him. It was one of her favourite photos of him.”
I looked at the next photo—one of Wyatt with the woman I assumed was Isla. It was a candid shot, with the camera capturing the two of them laughing and her holding her graduation cap. Wyatt was even more baby-faced then. She was brunette and tall, by the looks of it. It wasn’t what I expected.
“She was tall,” I said. “And very pretty.”
“Isla?” Wyatt asked.