Page 16 of The Family Guest

I let out a nervous laugh. “Why would I lie?” The hypocrisy of my words ate at me. I was a twenty-four-seven living lie.

Tanya persevered. “Did you model under your maiden name?”

“Yes. Natalie Taylor.” Another lie. Thankfully, Natalie Taylor had no online presence. Well, at least, that Natalie Taylor. Now, some TikTok singing sensation shared my name.

Matt went on, and I must say that having him talking about me—about us—was kindling a flame of desire inside me. Reliving every vivid second, I squirmed in my seat as he told Tanya more about our first encounter, leaving out the graphic details about how I’d demonstrated the “toy.”

How animated I was.

How convincing I was.

How seductive I was.

I’d sold him not only on the company but also on me. He asked me out for dinner, and after dinner, invited me for a nightcap in his hotel room and the rest was history. After a whirlwind romance, he married me. Eloping to Vegas to spite his estranged, controlling mother. Nine months later I gave birth to Anabel.

For the first time in years, before they excused themselves, Matt told the children they could go upstairs. Paige and Will readily complied, but Tanya insisted on helping me with the dishes.

“No need, Tanya,” said Matt. “It’s my turn to help my wife out tonight.”

With a coy smile, she slunk away. Matt and I remained seated, facing each other. After a few awkward, silent moments, I stood up and began to clear the table.

“Stop,” Matt commanded. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard that tone of voice. He was back to being the assertive alpha I’d married. “Let’s go to my office.”

Five short minutes later, we were in his small office, the door locked. The lights dimmed.

“Take off your clothes.” Wordlessly, I did as he asked, leaving on my new, skimpy black lace underwear. My skin tingled with goose bumps as he studied me.

“Damn. You’re still so hot, Nat. Lace becomes you.”

Five long, heated minutes later, we were panting, coming down from our euphoric highs. He’d taken me over his desk. Over the edge. He hadn’t done this in ages. Nor had I felt this way in forever. Totally consumed. Totally his.

For the first time since the night Anabel died, our marriage was back on track and alive again.

Zipping up his fly, my husband kissed me. His lips lingered on mine.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

Later we continued what we’d started upstairs and fell asleep, drenched and spent, in each other’s arms. It was the best night with my husband in years.

Tanya had been so right. All I’d had to do was reignite his fire.

NINE

PAIGE

I knocked on Will’s bedroom door, the affixed sign in my face. STAY OUT! Beneath the words was one of those skull-and-crossbones configurations.

Will liked privacy and I respected that. The feeling was mutual.

I rapped again on the hard slab of wood. “Willster, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“Enter.”

I turned the doorknob, surprised it wasn’t locked, and pushed the door open.

Will was sitting cross-legged on the top of his bunk bed, his computer on his lap. Actually, it was more than a bed. It was a massive blond-wood unit that featured sleeping quarters on the top level and a desk and shelves below filled with boxes of Legos, his collection of Harry Potter books, Star Wars toys, and various-size robots he’d built. Steps led up to the bed. It was kind of his retreat. His geek throne, as I called it. My genius brother had put it together himself. Beneath it, Bear was curled up on the colorful space-themed rug, next to my brother’s latest robotic creation. Thank goodness Will had figured out a way to keep him in the house away from Tanya. Bear didn’t seem to mind being holed up in my brother’s room. Our family dog was super-attached to him and faithfully slept in his room every night. At least that hadn’t changed.