Page 90 of The Wrong Side of the Law

My hands shake holding the folder. I can hear my own pulse, echoing like the beat of war drums deep in the jungle. It’s the same choice that Gabriel made, in a way. The same choice where his ex-wife came out second best. What the hell do I do? How do I make a choice like this?

From the bedroom, Gabriel’s bedside alarm clock screeches to life like some unholy machine-gun of beeps. Has it been five minutes already? That’s not possible. I only have seconds left, if I’m going to look.

The alarm stops. He’s awake now. I hear a yawn, then athunkas his feet hit the floor. A loud sniffing sound, just inside the still-open bedroom door.

“Is that coffee?” His voice is still rusty and half-asleep. A rustling sound. “And where’s my shirt?”

“Yes, it is,” I call out, standing up, the folder still clutched in my hands. “And yes, I have seen your shirt. I’m wearing it.”

“Oh.” Footsteps. In the hallway, I think. “I guess that’s why I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

I set the folder on the dining room table, fingers lingering on the cover. I have no time to look, now. In the end, I didn’t do anything unethical, anything wrong. I didn’t have to make a choice. Or is that a choice in and of itself?

It doesn’t matter, now. I did the thing that was right, even though it wasn’t right for my family. Why don’t I feel better about it?

I make it to the kitchen just before my man—mine! All mine!—and I’m pouring two cups of coffee when he appears around the corner in all his glorious naked splendor.

“Mornin’ gorgeous,” he says.

“Who? Me? I just woke up like this.” I strike a pose, something straight out of an old pinup, hips cocked to the side and one hand behind my head. It feels a little silly, but the way his eyes light up make me feel warm and gooey inside.

“I know,” he says. “I was there.” His eyes drift up and down my body, lingering here and there, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. It’s so different when it’s someone you love, and who loves you, that does it, rather than a disgusting lech like John Whitehall. “So, is it cold in here, or are you just happy to see me?”

I look down, and sure enough: the thin tee-shirt isn’t hiding anything. I gasp in mock indignation, clutching at imaginary pearls.

“A little bit of both, maybe? I don’t see why they have to be mutually exclusive,” I say, stretching upward on tiptoes for a kiss.

“I’ll take that,” he says once our lips part. “I love you.”

“You sure?” I ask. “Morning breath and all?”

“Absolutely,” he confirms. “What about you? You still, y’know…?”

“Yes, Gabriel.” I smile sweetly up at him, holding out a steaming mug of caffeinated goodness. “I still love you this morning.”

“Good. Now,” he says, taking the coffee. “About that shirt. I’m going to need you to give that back to me.”

“But I’m naked underneath!” I protest playfully.

“That’s the point,” he leers, putting down his cup and reaching out, trying to slip his hands under under the hemline. I’m quickly backed into the corner of the kitchen, though, and big hands warmed by the mug find their way to my bare skin.

“Noooooooo! I am defeated!”

Gabriel grins, kissing me on the tip of my nose, then reaches past me to open a cabinet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, brandishing a box of Frosted Flakes. “I’m just looking for some breakfast. I’m innocent, I tells ya! Innocent!”

“Oh, I think I have pretty strong evidence of your guilt right here,” I purr, reaching between our bodies. “Ratherphysicalevidence, you might say. And verysolid, too.”

“You’re evil. Terrible,” he says. “A vile seductress.”

“A hungry seductress, more like,” I say, letting go and pushing him away. “You get the bowls, I’ll grab spoons and milk and meet you in the dining room.”

When I arrive in the dining room there’s a chill in the air, and it’s much more than just the air conditioning.

Gabriel stands at the far end of the table, face carefully neutral, cereal and bowls forgotten in his hands. The folder lies where I’d left it, in the middle of the table, out-of-order papers sticking out of the edges.

“Oh,” I say. The last few minutes had been so packed that I’d entirely forgotten about it.

---