A Surprise Revelation (The Surprise Series Book 1) Page 5

  But it was after midnight and Richard still had not come to bed. Melissa thought briefly of going downstairs, but if he was working late because she asked him to go to the event she’d feel guilty. So she finally turned off the light. It could wait until morning.

  But the next morning Richard was not there. She couldn’t tell whether he had even come to bed. The house was quiet and empty.

  He hadn’t left a note, which was odd, since that was something he always did if he had to leave early. Busy as he was, he was always thoughtful. But this time, nothing.

  Melissa went to work, but fretted about it all day. Finally, able to stand it no longer, she sent Richard a text, asking whether he’d be home for dinner.

  His return text was confusing. ‘Have to work late, don’t wait up. Maybe you can have dinner with one of the neighbors.’

  What on earth did that mean? Did he mean someone they had met the day before? Why would he think she needed to have dinner with someone?

  Sometimes Melissa hated texting. But she didn’t send a message back, or call. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing; he was probably preoccupied at work.

  The same thing happened that night. No Richard. This time she found a note the next morning, a yellow sticky that just said, ‘Worked late and slept in the guest room, didn’t want to wake you in case you were tired.’

  She relaxed a little when she read that, Richard being his usual combination of married to his job and thoughtful at the same time. He really was a good man. Maybe he was just having a rough week.

  But after another day of the same Melissa got worried. She called Richard on his cell and just got voicemail, and her text received only another vague response. Suddenly she panicked. She realized she hadn’t talked to her husband for almost three days.

  Maybe Richard was having an affair. Someone at work?

  That’s ridiculous, she thought. He barely has time for me. How could he have time for another woman?

  She had suspected it once, not because she had any evidence, only because of his lack of interest. Even Julie thought it was crazy. But maybe Richard was just like most men, maybe he really just wanted someone younger, prettier.

  Was that why he didn’t have much sex with her? Because he had someone else? And was too tired? Or too guilty?

  She couldn’t believe it. But she started to cry anyway.

  At work, Melissa could barely concentrate. She left early, saying she didn’t feel well, which was certainly true. At home she stripped off her office clothes and attacked the weights in the home gym. If Richard was interested in someone else, she wasn’t going to give him the excuse of her not being in shape and as good looking as she could be.

  She rode the bike with abandon on the highest setting, egging herself on by imagining Richard with another woman, some faceless home wrecking bitch. Soon she was covered in sweat, angry at this mystery woman, angry at herself for letting this happen. Her rational mind knew it wasn’t her fault, if Richard was cheating it was his fault, but she was nagged by guilt, thoughts of what she might have failed at.

  And even if he wasn’t cheating, what woman couldn’t keep her husband more interested in her than in his work?

  Melissa vowed she’d confront Richard today.

  Later that night, Melissa was surprised to see Richard in the bathroom as she came out of the shower. She hadn’t seen him in almost three days and it was a bit of a shock. His face wore that some strange look she had last noticed on him. Was it guilt?

  “Hey,” she said, relieved and uneasy at the same time.

  “Hey yourself.” Richard fiddled with the bottles on the vanity.

  Not exactly knowing how to begin, Melissa said, “You’re home early.”

  Without looking at her he said, “I’ve been—at the office too much. I thought I needed to get home.”

  “Oh.” Melissa wondered what that meant. Was Richard seeing someone at the office? “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, holding her breath, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

  He frowned. “No. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Now his eyes bore into her, a combination of challenge and hurt.

  Melissa shook her head, confused. Richard seemed to be expecting something. “No, not that I can think of. Other than we haven’t seen each other for a few days, I was wondering if everything was—okay with you.” That was as close as she could come to asking; here, standing before him half naked, facing his pent up wrath, all of her assuredness of earlier in the day had deserted her.

  Richard searched her eyes, and she felt naked before him, the bath towel doing nothing to protect her from his gaze, delving into her, stripping away her defenses. She wished she could do the same to him; she thought she knew him better than anyone, but right now he was a mystery.

  She held his gaze, and he finally turned away. “If there’s nothing, then I guess everything is okay,” he said, but he didn’t sound convincing, his usual self assuredness missing.

  “Richard, I—if I had something to say, I’d tell you.” Well, that wasn’t right. She wouldn’t keep a secret from him, but she wasn’t telling him what was really bothering her, that she worried he might be cheating. Right now that seemed so irrational.

  He looked up sharply, she thought he might challenge her, accuse her of not being truthful. But instead he shocked her. “Well, I do have a confession to make.”

  Here it comes, she thought. Her legs grew weak. She gripped the vanity to keep from falling. Did she want to hear this?

  She watched his mouth, dreading the words that his lips were forming.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being so late to the community center.”

  She was already holding back tears, her mind and heart ahead of her ears. “What?” she stammered, her voice a hoarse croak.

  “The community center thing the other night. I know that was important to you, to meet the neighbors. I promised I’d be there, but I barely made it before it was over.”

  Still not thinking straight, Melissa leaned back against the vanity, wobbly, wondering if her mind was protecting her by filling in different words from what she had feared. Suddenly she burst out laughing, the relief a flood.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Is that your confession? That you were late to a potluck?” It felt like she had just dodged a train, the adrenaline rush, her mind a white daze.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

  He did seem concerned, but why he’d be so upset over being late for something she half expected him not to even go to was beyond her. “I thought—.” She caught herself just in time. Now it would seem ridiculous to share her worry. “You already apologized for that.” She smiled. “I’m glad you came. I met a few nice people.”

  Richard glanced up at her, still toying with the lotions. “I noticed.” When she looked at him quizzically, he said, “I was actually there for a bit before you saw me.”

  She was puzzled. “Why didn’t you come over? Were you talking to someone else?” Her anxiety relieved, she grabbed another towel for her hair.

  Still not looking at her he said, “No. I was watching you. With those guys.”

  His tone stopped her in the middle of drying her hair. “What guys?”

  “The two guys who were trying to pick you up.”

  Melissa turned to him, genuinely confused, the towel forgotten in her hand. “What are you talking about?”

  “There were two guys there, hitting on you.”

  “Richard, I think you’ve been working too hard. I have no idea what you mean.” And she didn’t. Who did Richard see? The biker? He was nowhere near her, and he certainly wasn’t hitting on her.

  “At the table. The two guys in tennis outfits.”

  Melissa burst out laughing. “I had forgotten all about them. And they weren’t hitting on me, they just saw me sitting alone and were being polite.”

  “Really? Is that all it was?”


  She frowned. “What’s got into you? You’re not jealous of two college kids getting a drink from the bar for me?” She hadn’t thought they were hitting on her, they had been much too young, but she hadn’t been very alert to what they were doing, she had been distracted by the man in black. Vern.

  “Come on, Melissa, you were the best looking woman in that entire crowd,” said Richard, now staring at her, covered only by the towel. She wasn’t feeling especially good looking right now, just out of the shower, her hair a squeezed out mess, her makeup washed off.

  She laughed, a little unsure, wondering why Richard was bringing this up, it was so unlike him. To cover her discomfort she took a step toward him, intending to give him a quick kiss and thank him for being nice, but as she did so he pulled her in close, his mouth reaching for her, his kiss demanding.

  She responded, a bit tentatively, utterly surprised. She pulled her head back, still in his embrace, searching his face. “Are you sure you are okay?”

  “Why? Is it wrong to tell you how good you look and want to kiss you?”

  “No, no, of course not.” Melissa held his eye. “Honesty, though, I don’t want you to think I was flirting with someone.”

  His answer shocked her. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting.” His eyes darted away briefly, then returned to hers, as if he had just been brave enough to say something he had been afraid to say. “As long as that’s all it is, I guess.”

  “Now you are scaring me. I wasn’t even flirting.”

  He stared at her, searching her eyes again. “I guess not,” he finally said. He seemed relieved, but there was something else there. Sadness? Disappointment?

  Finally it hit her. She had been such an idiot.

  “Richard, do you think I’m having an affair?”

  “That was a strange question to ask,” he said. “Especially the way you asked it. You don’t think I’m having an affair, do you?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Melissa’s emotions had swung from worry to relief to surprise to anger in an amazingly short time.

  Richard turned away. “I know you’ve been a little—very—disappointed with our sex life. I thought maybe. . .”

  “What? You thought I’d look for a little action on the side?”

  “Maybe. I guess so. I saw how—animated—you seemed to be, with the attention. I never see you that way with me.”

  “Richard, you’re imagining things. I was just in a social situation. And I wasn’t interested in those college boys. They were just kids.”

  “They are probably closer in age to you than I am.”

  “But they seemed young. I swear, I wasn’t trying to lead them on.”

  “I believe you.” Richard bent to give her a kiss on the neck. “But they weren’t the only ones. I saw a lot of guys on the patio checking you out.”

  Melissa laughed, relieved once again. Richard was just being a little jealous. It was kind of cute. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was barely noticed.”

  Richard sighed dramatically. “Women are always oblivious to men who are coming after them unless they are interested in those men.”

  She pushed away from him, not in anger, but playfully. “And how do you know that?”

  “Experience.” He smiled, and in a pretend sad tone he said, “All my failures as a bachelor trying to pick up women.”

  “Right,” she said. “You weren’t the pickup type.”

  “Not like I didn’t try,” he said, and this time there was just a hint of something in his voice. Regret?

  The mood had shifted. She had been worried about nothing. Richard wasn’t having an affair. He had been afraid she was. He had stayed away, probably for the same reason she had, not wanting to face it if it were true.

  Melissa resumed drying her hair and began her brief ritual, getting ready for bed, thinking the conversation was over, but Richard lingered.

  She glanced at him in the mirror as she was putting some moisturizer around her eyes, wondering if there was something else on his mind, but now he seemed to be content just watching her. “You are making me a little nervous,” she said.

  “I like to watch you,” he said. “Is that so bad?”

  “Of course not. You’ve just never done it before.”

  “Sure I have. You just didn’t notice. Just like you didn’t notice all the other men checking you out, or those guys hitting on you.”

  “Stop it,” she said, not angry. “I almost couldn’t think of who you were talking about. They didn’t even register.”

  “One guy did.”

  Melissa almost poked herself in the eye. Composing herself, she said, “What guy?” Her heart was suddenly beating fast.

  “The guy with the ink. The biker.”

  Melissa was about to say, ‘What biker?’ and immediately realized it would sound foolish. She would have been blind not to have noticed him.

  “He did seem out of place, didn’t he?” She tried to keep her voice casual.

  “He was staring at you the entire time.” Richard’s voice was flat, as if he was trying to control his emotions.

  She turned to him and saw that same complex set of expressions she had noticed earlier in the evening. “What? You think he was looking at me?”

  “Of course he was. Just like the other men.” Richard stepped closer to her, his voice now colored with emotion. “And you were looking at him.” The entire mood had changed again, the room filled with tension, some kind of expectation.

  Had she been so obvious? Her lip quivered as she said, “Richard, I—.” She didn’t know what to say, which, she instantly realized, was the same as admitting it.

  Melissa couldn’t read Richard. Was he hurt? Or just surprised? Why would he be surprised if she noticed a good looking guy? She was sure Richard at least looked at women, any breathing person noticed attractive people. Men more so that women, she bet. Is this why he had thought she was having an affair?

  As she thought about it she got a little angry, maybe at having been caught. “Maybe you shouldn’t spy on me,” she said, turning back to the mirror. Bent over the vanity, her face close to the mirror, seeing her own eyes blaze. One thing she had learned in a marriage was that emotions could quickly rise to the surface, and after living with someone for years all the little gentle preambles to a topic were often left unsaid, leaving only the words and the feelings.

  He didn’t answer right away, and she resumed her ritual, her mind a mix of emotions, a little anger, a little embarrassment, a little heat. Her heart was still beating fast, but only partly from the discussion. The image of the biker was now stuck in her head.

  After a few moments Richard put his hands on her hips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I think you took it the wrong way.”

  “Oh, so it’s my fault?” she said, instantly regretting it.

  “No. It’s no one’s fault. I don’t have a problem with you looking at other guys.” Before she could respond he said, “I have another confession to make.”

  When he didn’t continue, Melissa prodded, “What, you look at women sometime?”

  “No. Well, I do, but that’s not it. Seeing those men staring at you, hitting on you. I know they wanted you. It—it kind of turned me on.”

  Melissa thought he was joking, trying to lighten the mood, but Richard wrapped his arms around her, his mouth on her neck, his stubble lightly scraping her nape. With his mouth next to her ear he whispered, “Actually, it turned me on a lot. I don’t know why, but it did.”

  He took her hand, firmly, and together with his slid it down her thigh, and then back, onto his leg and up into his crotch. Melissa was stunned to find him hard, not just aroused, but fully erect. It took her a second to respond, this had not even crossed her mind, she was still recovering from being angry, she was still a bit angry, feeling she had to defend herself for just looking at some stranger, mad at herself though because she had been caught at it. In the mirror she saw the same look on Richard’s face as she
had at the pool, the mix of emotions, anger, jealousy, and something else. Could it have been excitement?

  “I’m confused,” she said, honestly.

  “In my head, I am too,” he whispered. “But this part of me,” he clasped her hand around his cock, “seems pretty sure of itself.”

  With his other hand Richard stripped off her towel. Her back was still to him, she tried to turn to face him but he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pinning her in place, his hand caressing her breast. Her nipples, always incredibly sensitive, immediately stiffened under his pressure, and she stroked him, feeling the tip of his hardness against her ass.

  Melissa watched him in the mirror as he held her, his face close to hers, the difference in their looks so stark, his dark hair and eyes contrasting with her light Nordic skin, her straight blond hair. The dissimilarity making her think again, against her will, of the biker, all in black. Why was she thinking of Vern now?

  Richard looked up at the reflection, and as if reading her mind he said, “Does it upset you that I get excited when I think about you turning on other men?”

  Melissa felt him freeze, as if what he might do next depended on her response. “Getting you excited would never upset me,” she said, meaning it, and squeezed him. She leaned forward against the vanity, spreading her legs, guiding him toward her.

  “Wait,” he said. He reached over and turned out the light.

  “I want to see you,” she said. “I like looking too. At you.”

  “You can do that anytime,” he said. She felt his foot against hers, forcing her legs apart wider, and then he leaned his hips forward, his hard flat stomach muscles tensing. He pulled his head back from her, creating a distance with his voice even as the rest of him was enveloping her. “But right now you can imagine it is someone else doing this to you. Anyone you want.”

  Melissa heard his belt unbuckle and the swish of his zipper.