Page 54 of The Wife Upstairs
“Eddie?”
His head jerks up. “Hey,” he says and rises to his feet. He’s wearing the boxers he wore to bed, his feet bare on the hardwood, and even though the house is cool now, he seems to be covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“What are you doing?” I ask, and there’s a beat. A small one, barely noticeable, but I feel it. The moment when he has to shift himself into a sheepish grin, a hand on the back of his neck.
But before he managed it, I saw a flash of irritation. He was pissed.
At me.
For seeing him. For interrupting him.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I just remembered I pulled the key to the boat shed off my key ring earlier, and then I couldn’t remember where I put it, and then I started wondering if I’d dropped it. You know how it is when you’re trying to sleep and one little thing is bothering you?”
I did. Funny how having your future husband disappear in the middle of the night will do that to you.
“Did you find it?” I ask now, feigning more sleepiness than I feel. But I know he’s lying. And that flash of anger in his eyes, that moment when he clearly wished I hadn’t gotten out of bed to find him.
It scared me.
Eddie scared me.
“No,” he says. “It’s probably in the driveway. I’ll check tomorrow.”
I see his eyes drift over me. I’m wearing an oversized T-shirt that hangs to my knees, but we hadn’t had sex when we’d gone to bed, and I catch the interest in his gaze now.
I could lean into that, smile back, give him some cheesy line about having something that might help him sleep.
Instead, I turn away, going back into the bedroom.
And later, when I lie in bed next to him, I keep seeing that look on his face, and wonder if there is even a boathouse key at all.
“Did you take money out of the account?”
I’m standing on the dock the next afternoon, looking out at the water. It’s basically all I’ve done today. I slept late, and have been reading since I woke up, trying to ignore the way Eddie keeps prowling around the house when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
The sun is hot on my shoulders, but I feel cold as I turn to see him behind me. He’s wearing swim trunks, his gaze hidden behind those mirrored sunglasses, and he’s frowning down at his phone.
Fuck. I’d thought I’d been so careful with John’s money, taking three hundred out of an ATM in the village, getting a hundred dollars back at the grocery store, spreading it out over a few days so he wouldn’t see a big chunk of money coming out. How did he notice it?
He’s still watching me, still waiting.
“Wedding stuff,” I say, waving a hand, even though the truth is I haven’t done shit for this wedding yet besides look at dresses. “You have no idea how many little things you have to put deposits down on.”
Eddie nods, but says, “I actually do have an idea. Had a wedding before, remember?”
That Eddie grin, the one that makes his dimples deepen, but there’s an edge to it now, and I suddenly remember that this is the same grin he gave John that afternoon in the parking lot when I went to get my stuff.
I’ve never had this directed at me before. “Of course,” I reply, giving a flustered little laugh. “You know all about this kind of thing. Anyway, it just seemed easier to use cash. I meant to tell you, but I guess the lake trip distracted me.”
I try to give him a sultry sideways look at that, but he’s already looking back at his phone.
“Gotcha. It’s just that the bank thought it looked suspicious and froze the account.”
My face flushes hot. Here I was, thinking I was being smart and subtle, and instead his bank saw a petty fucking thief.
“Shit,” I say. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says, waving his free hand. “I’ll just let them know the charges were legit, and they’ll unfreeze it. Just.”
