Page 16

Tate

I cut the engine and look straight ahead, waiting for Eve to make the first move. She sits up straight, unmoving. Neither of us speaks for a few minutes, but the weight of the silence sits heavy on my chest. I’m about to meet and expose the other man in Eve’s life.

Eve’s dead husband is the reason she’s guarded. He’s also her excuse for keeping our relationship on the down low. Not that that’s been a problem for me. I’m still not sure where this is going—or even if I can call what Eve and I have a relationship.

We haven’t exactly been sneaking around over the last month, but we’ve been careful.

She doesn’t want Gemma to know we’re seeing each other, which makes introducing Eve to my sister tough.

Eve thinks her daughter might get upset because of how soon after her father’s death we started dating.

I’m not sure I agree, I doubt there’s any amount of time that will make Eve’s moving on easier in Gemma’s eyes, but I have to trust Eve’s judgment where her daughter is concerned.

Eve stares at the house with her hands balled into fists on her lap. For the first time in many years, fear grips my heart. I’m afraid that walking into that house will change things between us. That Eve is going to shut down emotionally and pull away.

“We don’t have to do this.” I massage her shoulder. Eve takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and leans her head back against the rest.

“I do. The not knowing is killing me.”

“She’s not here, Eve. It’s just you and me. You have to be okay with the fact that you're most likely not going to get the answers you’re looking for.”

She nods. “I know.”

I reach over and take her hand in mine. I lift it and press my lips against her soft skin.

“Whichever way this goes, I’m here.”

THERE ISN’T REALLY a smell to the house; it’s just kind of stuffy.

That makes sense since Eve’s husband has been dead for more than two months.

She turns the kitchen light on and looks through the empty cabinets.

Nothing in the refrigerator either. No Garbage.

No sign that anyone has been here at all.

No wall hangings or furniture decorate the large, unused space.

We move to the next room, and aside from a visible layer of dust coating the hardwood floor and built-in cabinet in the living room, there’s nothing.

The house is beautiful. Dark wood everywhere.

Granite counters in the two kitchens and countless bathrooms. Vaulted ceilings.

Crown molding. Four gas fireplaces spread about.

Eve wasn’t joking when she said they could’ve lived in this house with his mistress and never seen each other.

With our sweep of the first two floors complete, I offer to go up in the large oversized attic. There’s nothing but a dead mouse up there.

“I don’t understand. The house is empty. Why would he have a house this big and beautiful lying around? And if he used it to have an affair, wouldn’t there be a bed somewhere? A couch? Anything?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me about it? Was this part of his plan? Divorce me and come live like a king just to rub my face in it?”

I rub her shoulders. She’s spiraling. I see it. I hear it in her voice. This is what I feared. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

“No. I need to check the basement.”

This feels like a bad horror movie. The basement. Of course she’s going to find something in the basement. I only hope it’s not a body chopped into pieces.

Not completely convinced everything here is on the up and up, I insist on taking the lead. I flip the light for the room at the bottom of the steps and hold my arm out for Eve not to take another step.

“What the hell?” She says, pushing forward.

Children’s posters of popular interactive shows are hung on the cinderblock walls.

Giving the room a quick scan, I see a pair of air mattresses in the corner.

One has flowered sheets; the other is covered in dogs, cats, and bunnies, with a large teddy bear wearing a matching hat and dress sitting on top of the pillow.

Folded blankets lay at the foot of each bed.

A vanity set sits under a bright light in an opposite corner.

Next to the vanity is a college-sized refrigerator with a microwave built on top.

A television hangs on the wall, facing a pair of foldable lawn chairs.

My stomach is queasy. I don’t know what Eve was expecting, but I sure as shit wasn’t expecting this. He had a child here, if not two. I don’t spot any sort of restraints. No blood, splattered or otherwise. No sign of a struggle or violence.

Eve’s face pales, and I worry she might pass out.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and let me sort this out.”

“Don’t you find it strange that there’s stuff here? And that there’s no food or sign of life upstairs ?”

I’m glad she said it, because the thoughts running through my mind are telling me to get us the hell out of here.