She looked so sincere, so concerned about my sleep schedule. If I didn't know better, I'd think she actually gave a damn about my well-being. But I did know better now, didn't I? "Thanks, honey," I said, taking a small sip.
It tasted normal, but then again, I wasn't exactly an expert on what sleeping pills tasted like in milk. Could have been Ambien. Could have been Benadryl. Could have been nothing at all.
But the fact that she was suddenly so concerned about my sleep when she'd never given two craps about my insomnia before? Yeah, that was suspicious as hell. I made a show of drinking about half the glass, then set it on my nightstand with a grateful smile. "You're the best, baby. I love you."
The words felt like ash in my mouth, but her face lit up with what looked like genuine affection. That was the part that really got to me. Not just that she was cheating, but that she could look at me with those loving eyes while planning to slip out and get busy with some photographer named Leo. "I love you, too," she whispered, leaning over to kiss my forehead like I was a sick child instead of the husband she was about to betray again.
She climbed into bed beside me, and I could feel the warmth of her body through that towel. Once upon a time, that would have been my cue to make a move, to pull her close and show her how much I missed her during those long days at the office. Now it just felt like lying next to a stranger wearing my wife's skin. "Get some rest," she murmured, already turning away from me.
"You need your energy for tomorrow." Oh, the irony. She was worried about my energy levels while planning to spend half the night burning calories with Mr. Photography. I wanted to ask her if Leo knew she was drugging her husband, if that was part of their kinky little game, but instead I just mumbled something about being grateful and closed my eyes.
The next hour was probably the longest 60 minutes of my life. I lay there listening to her breathing, waiting for it to settle into that deep, even rhythm that meant she thought I was out cold. Every few minutes, I'd let out a little snore or shift positions, really selling the whole heavily sedated husband performance. She was good. I'll give her that.
She waited a full hour before making her move, probably making sure whatever she'd slipped me had enough time to kick in. I felt the mattress shift as she carefully climbed out of bed, moving with the stealth of someone who'd done this dance before. I cracked one eye open just enough to see her silhouette in the darkness. She'd traded the towel for a black dress, the sexy one she usually saved for our anniversary dinners.
She was putting on makeup at the vanity, applying lipstick with the kind of care you reserve for special occasions. At exactly 12:45 a.m., I heard the soft click of our front door opening. Then the faint sound of voices in the hallway outside our apartment. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure the neighbors could hear it through the walls.
I gave her exactly 20 seconds, long enough to think she was in the clear, but not long enough for them to disappear entirely. Then I slipped out of bed, grabbed my robe, and crept toward the door like some kind of suburban ninja. The hallway was dimly lit, but I could see them at the far end near the elevator. Marissa was pressed against the wall, and some tall guy had his hands on either side of her face, kissing her like she was the last woman on Earth.
Even from a distance, I could see he was everything I wasn't. Tall, muscular, probably 10 years younger than me. So this was Leo. This was the man my wife thought was worth throwing away 15 years of marriage for.