Page 47 of The Sound Of Us

Chapter 24

Axel

Pepper’s incessant barks for more meaty bones cool the air around us. Eli can’t hear her, so he’s not distracted from what we’re doing. I feel a little jealous that he doesn’t have to deal with the distractions of the outside world in this way.

I decide to ignore Pepper. Act like I can’t hear her.

Eli brings his lips back to mine, pressing softly. White liquid remains at the corner of his mouth. Still drunk on my orgasm, courage is in abundant supply. I lean forward and drag my tongue over the corner of his mouth.

He exhales harshly. I can’t stop the smile that creeps into my face. I’m not the only one losing my mind here.

There’s no need to clean up. Eli was meticulous when he swallowed. He slips my underwear and my sweats back over my dick and comes back for another kiss.

I wait for the onslaught of guilt. I’m not surprised when it doesn’t come. Still, I have the need to acknowledge what this is.

“I’m married,” I tell him again. I sound less convicted now than I did when I said it before we came into the kitchen.

He nods again.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” I ask.

I must have dropped my head because he lifts my chin. This is becoming easier. I can now tell the difference between when he touches me like he wants to fuck me and when he touches me because he can’t read what I’m saying.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” I ask again.

He shakes his head. No.

“Why not?”

He signs for me, but I don’t understand. Both our phones are in the living room, so he reaches over to a drawer and takes out a pen and a piece of paper.

Pepper whimpers at my feet. She wants to go outside.

Eli slides the piece of paper over to me. His handwriting is impeccable. He doesn’t deserve you, it says.

“I’m betraying him,” I mumble. He frowns at my lips, so I say it again.

You’re betraying yourself. I pick up the paper and read it again. How am I betraying myself when I’m the one here, practically having sex with someone who is not my husband?

It doesn’t matter how you dissect it: Frank will always win. He will always be the scorned one. I’m the villain in all of this. Because no matter what, Frank deserves a true relationship. Whether he’s a good or bad husband, he doesn’t deserve a husband who creeps around behind his back.

My mind goes to the condoms inside the bottom drawer in the bathroom. But I don’t have proof that Frank ever cheated. He denied it every time I found the condoms, and it’s not impossible that they could have belonged to one of his friends. In any case, even if Frank did cheat, that doesn’t give me the right to do it, too.

All the arguments swirl in my head:

But what if he cheated? Then you should have left him.

But he’s not good to you. Then leave.

But I never wanted the marriage in the first place. Then you shouldn’t have married him.

But I tried so hard to make it work. Then leave.

But he’s abusive. Then leave.

But he’ll kill me if I try to leave. Then leave to a place he’ll never find you.

Nowhere in the rules does it say that the decisions I’ve made in the last few weeks have been or could ever be Frank’s fault. With no proof that Frank ever cheated, he becomes the innocent husband in this situation, oblivious to how much he’s being duped. Lied to. Cheated on.

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