“No. I texted you a picture of my latest painting, Lucas. You said you wanted one like the one I’d painted of you, only of me…” I trailed off. Had I sent it to the wrong number? It wasn’t possible, but I put my phone on speaker and checked just to be safe. “I have it right here. It shows it was delivered.”
“When did you send it?”
“Last night. It was late.”
He sighed. “I never got any messages from you last night. Was there any text with it?”
“No…just the picture. I thought it spoke for itself.”
He seemed a bit calmer when he spoke again. “You should be careful sending messages like that. When I’m at work, interns often check my phone and read me the messages aloud.”
“I know that. You’ve told me I can’t send anything too risqué, but this was just art for all anyone knows.”
He grumbled. “Well, when do I get to see this art, then?”
“Come over and you can see it right now,” I teased, relieved to hear his stress disappearing.
He laughed under his breath, and I could swear I heard his engine revving. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Like he’d promised, within twenty minutes, he was coming in the front door. I stood from the couch as soon as I saw him, his gaze raking over me, though I was a sheer disappointment in my yoga pants and baggy T-shirt with no makeup. The baby had my morning sickness acting up, and it was all I could do to get dressed at all—though Lucas may have preferred I didn’t. He walked toward me, scooping me in his arms and pressing his lips to mine.
He tasted of garlic, and I pulled away. “Did I interrupt dinner?”
“Yeah, I’d just gotten home, sorry. Can you smell it on me?” He covered his mouth, his cheeks flaming red.
“My nose is extra sensitive these days. It’s not bad…just a bit garlicy.”
He smiled, but didn’t offer to brush his teeth. We were still pressed together, though there was starting to be a small bump between us. “So, where’s this painting?”
I took his hand, pulling away from him and sucking in garlic-free air. Together, we walked down the hallway and into the bedroom. I pulled the cover from the canvas and stepped back, watching as he took it in. His face was pink for an entirely different reason then, and he moved forward, his fingers tracing the lines of my body with precision. “This is beautiful, Lainie.” I smiled softly, watching his hand move across the canvas, taking extra time around my more sensitive areas. “I definitely would’ve let you know if I received this.” When he turned back to me, his brow raised. “Do you think you sent it to the wrong number?”
I pulled out my phone. “I’m positive I didn’t. Look.”
He took the phone in his hand, staring at the photo and then up at the top where his number was. He shook his head, pulling out his own phone and scrolling through his texts. When I moved around to see his screen, he shoved it in his pocket. “I must’ve had bad service or something and it never came through. I worked late last night.”
I wasn’t quite buying the excuse, though I had no true idea where he might’ve been or why he’d lie. Instead of arguing further, I grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him toward me. “Well, now that you’re here in person, perhaps you’d like to inspect the subject up close.”
He gave a crooked grin, stepping closer. When he pressed himself against me this time, I could feel his excitement against my leg. He pulled his shirt over his head, then mine, staring down at my naked form.
“Yes, you seem to have gotten a few things right,” he told me, his hands moving to my hips as he removed my pants then shot back up to cradle my head in a kiss.
I reached for his pants, our lips still locked together as I unbuckled his belt and shimmied the pants to the floor. He eased us onto the bed, our naked forms intertwined, my heart thudding in my chest. I couldn’t explain the way he made me feel—like I could explode from sheer joy. I loved him more than I could describe. He filled me with warmth and hope and desire like I had never known before.
He sucked in a breath and the smell of garlic hit me again. This time, I had to jerk away. “I’m sorry.” I put a hand over my mouth and sat up. He lay beside me, seeming confused. “It’s the garlic. Would you mind rinsing your mouth? My morning sickness has gotten bad lately.”
“Sure,” he said, somewhat hesitantly. He stood from the bed and sauntered away. I could tell I’d upset him, but I couldn’t put myself through that torture. I stared down at the floor, trying to regain my composure as I heard him sifting through drawers, looking for the mouthwash.
When the nausea had passed and I heard the water running, I realized I was staring at his pants, the lump of his phone evident in his pocket. Acting quickly, I reached down and pulled the phone out. Though he didn’t know it, I’d seen him type his phone’s password in before, yet I’d never once snooped. It was his birthday, and I typed it in quickly, going straight to his messages. He was right, there was no message from me, as there was no message thread at all from me. I went to his contacts—did he even have my number saved?—and typed in my number, surprised to see my name pop up as only an initial: A.
I furrowed my brow as I heard the water shut off and he began to gargle with the mouthwash. I didn’t have much time. I closed out of the contacts and went back to the green message icon, scrolling down through his recent conversations hurriedly.
Naomi:
Where are you?
At work. Need something?
No, I’ll take care of it.
Ethan:
Thanks for covering this morning. I’ve got you next time.
No problem. Everything went fine. Patient’s recovering.
Good.
C:
Are you still at work?
Yes. You here?
Yes. I’ll find you.
M:
Are you coming over?
Be there later tonight.
K.
Except for very recent conversations, his message history was blank. Who were these people? Who was Naomi? Why were so many of us saved in his phone under initials? C? M? A? What was he hiding? I heard him spit and hurriedly placed his phone back in his pocket. As he reentered the room, I tried my best to put on a warm smile and pretend my head wasn’t spinning. Was Lucas cheating on me?
He couldn’t be…could he?
He walked toward me, lowering his face just inches from mine. “Better?” he asked.
His breath was, but now I felt like I could be sick for an entirely different reason. I nodded, barely able to look at him, but he didn’t seem to care as he met my eyes once, then stood and reached for my head, pushing the top of it down until I was staring directly at his erect form. He pulled my mouth toward him without warning, and I opened on instinct. His head went back from up above me as I wrapped my lips around him, my mind elsewhere completely. I had to think of something, anything.
He groaned, both hands on the sides of my head now as he moved me with increasing rhythm. I’d had a friend once who installed a tracking app on her boyfriend’s phone when she believed he was cheating. If I could get my hands on Lucas’ phone again, I could do the same. To do that, though, I’d have to convince him to stay the night and fall asleep long enough for me to get it.