Page 52 of Space Oddities

I giggle. “You two are funny.”

Jules pulls my bag from the trunk containing my bridesmaid shoes and hands it to me. “You need an escort inside?”

“No, no. I got it.” I have plans to warm Ian up with sex before I spill my guts, and I don’t need Jules messing up the works.

“All right then.” She rounds the car, sliding into the passenger seat.

“See you soon!” Rose calls out, smushing her face against the small triangular window of the backseat, her lips pursed in a kiss.

Once down the drive, Jackie revs the engine. In a very uncharacteristic move, she guns it, shooting down the road in front of Ian’s house, nearly taking out Veronica and her friends.

Veronica jumps to the side, tripping onto the grass as the vintage car barrels past, her affronted squeal audible even over the Mustang’s engine.

Stifling a laugh, I wave after my girls, already well down the road, and then to the three- woman pileup of blondes on Ian’s front yard. It’s too late for their morning powerwalk, so seeing how Ian’s car is visible in the garage, they must have ventured out for an afternoon snoop session.

Veronica flips me the bird.

Laughing, I spin on my sneakered foot and skip into the open garage, past the Audi, and into the house.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Silence. Huh.

The kitchen and family room are empty. On my way to the stairs, I peek into the office. Empty.

I stumble once going up the stairs, but I blame that on the shoe bag throwing me off balance, not the amount of alcohol in my system.

I don’t hear the sound of water, so if he isn’t taking a shower, he must be taking a nap. Don’t blame him; it sounds wonderful. After dropping the bag in the guest room, I tiptoe into the master bedroom. “Ian?” The bed is empty.

Bam. The closet door bursts open, Ian lunging out.

“Son of a biscuit!” I stumble back, slamming into the dresser.

Ian’s bent at the waist, hands on the bed, his chest heaving with large gulps of air.

After a second of shock, I step forward, my hand tentatively resting on his back. “Ian, what’s wrong?” I glance into the closet, wondering what in the world would’ve possessed him to go in there. Though most would consider it a massive walk-in, for someone with claustrophobia it would be a nightmare.

His hands fist the duvet. “I… just… need… a moment.”

“Okay, sugar. Okay.” I sit down on the bed, urging him forward. Without resistance, he drops to his knees, his head in my lap.

For the next five minutes, while Ian focuses on controlling his breathing, I stroke his back, pat his head, and play with his hair. Anything I can think to soothe him.

“Sorry.” Ian pushes up, turning to sit next to me but avoiding my eyes.

“What happened? Did you get stuck?”

“Ah, no. I closed myself in.”

I smack him upside the head I’ve just caressed.

“Ow.”

“Why in the world would you do that, you numbnut?”

Ian’s lips twitch. “Numbnut?”

“Obviously I’ve been spending too much time with Rose.” I poke him in the chest. “But don’t avoid the question. Why would you close yourself into the closet knowing full well this would happen?”

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