Page 67 of Shame

“I don’t care.”

“Grace—”

“I’m there, too. Come with me. Deep. Fill me up.”

He shudders as he thrust all the way in, restraint evaporating as I begin to clench around him. I’ve never come this fast before. It’s a freight train of need, and now I’m shaking, the orgasm rioting through me as he bucks his hips. His left hand clenches in my hair as his right blindly grabs my calf, then my ankle, bending my leg up and open.

His fingers tighten around my ankle as he shouts my name again.

I close my eyes and sink into it, floating in the pleasure of my husband reclaiming my body. Finally. Yes.

Grace.

Yes.

28

Luke

I’m startingto think I might never return to the office, and I don’t mind that idea at all. I’ve gotten used to working from home. Grace and I can have leisurely mornings together, and then when she goes to the studio, I’m able to think about the big picture finance decisions without constant interruptions.

I know why Sam likes it so much now.

But it also raises the question of whether or not we’re still the right people to lead this firm. Just because we founded it doesn’t mean we need to stay there forever. Maybe I just want to be an angel investor for the rest of my career.

There’s certainly enough money in that, and it would give me more time to devote to Grace.

I spend a lot of time thinking about our relationship as a long-term project. Trips I’d like us to take together, hobbies we might take up.

“How do you feel about tai chi?” I ask her as I browse the YMCA’s website one evening.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” she asks with a laugh.

“Who, that guy? What does Taylor Swift say? He can’t come to the phone?”

She giggles. “You truly are a different person. But no, I don’t think super slow is my preferred speed. What are you looking at?”

“The community classes at the Y. They seem…wholesome. I dunno. Just an idea.” I hand her my laptop. “You have a look, see what you think.”

She clicks on adult karate classes first, then the masters level swim club. “They have an information night next week, I think we could go to that. Let me check my calendar.”

She opens a new browser tab and types in a webmail address. But instead of it going to a login page, it opens an email account I haven’t looked at it in months.

That I had every intention of deleting.

Her face goes ashen. “Luke, what is this?”

“That’s nothing.” I want to throw up.

It’s the burner email address I used to communicate with Caitlyn. There’s nothing in the inbox, but she’s smarter than that. She clicks on the sent folder and finds the last email I wrote. “You emailed her the day after I found out about the affair.”

“And then I blocked her. You can see for yourself, she hasn’t replied to it.”

“You said just a few weeks ago that you had no more contact with her.”

“I, I had no more contact with her. I didn’t.”

“But you emailed her. Here I can see it in this email account that I'm looking at right now that you left logged in on your laptop.”

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