Cami
Sucking the sauce off my finger, I grin. I’ve perfected my spaghetti as if I am trying to earn a Michelin star. Something eased in my chest this morning when I woke up and Mike confirmed we would still do our Friday traditions. I want to share that part of my life with Devon to show him what a normal day could be like inside a real home, not the empty one our parents purchased.
“Smells good.”
I look at Devon, my heart picking up whenever I see him. Even after days of him living with us and following me around, I’m not used to his presence.
“I’m confident enough to say it will be the best thing you’ve ever tasted,” I tease him.
He scoffs, a smile forming on his lips as he walks over to the stove and glances into the pot. “Spaghetti? Really?”
I nod, knocking him out of the way with my hip to grab some plates. “Yes, really. I promise it’s the best thing. Go set the table and get out of my kitchen, you heathen.”
“Just us?” he asks as he opens the drawers till he finds the silverware.
My stomach twists a bit. “No, Mike is on his way home. He should almost be here.”
Devon looks up and sneers. “What a perfect little wife having dinner ready for him as soon as he walks in the door.”
I turn away from him, swallowing the ache in my throat as I grab the pot to drain the noodles. Devon moves without another word, setting three places on our table. I plate the pasta, not daring to acknowledge the tension building in the room. It’s obvious that he’s jealous, unable to control how he feels when he lashes out. But what he doesn’t realize is that I want to do the same with him.
“How many slices of garlic bread do you want?” I ask, peeking over my shoulder.
Devon is watching me from the chair he’s claimed since the morning he bent me over the table. “Two.”
I smile, bringing him the mound of spaghetti and bread. Then I make mine and Mike’s plates before setting them on the table and settling into the chair next to him. I glance up at the clock on the wall. Mike shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.
“Dig in, but if you hate it. You have to lie to me.”
Devon leans forward, his eyebrows raised. “You have no idea the kind of food I’ve consumed in the past decade. There won’t be any reason to lie.”
Blushing, I turn to my food and take a bite as I wait for him excitedly to try.
“You don’t want to wait for Mike?” Devon asks.
“He won’t mind if we start. He’s more excited for the board game,” I laugh.
Devon’s eyes narrow. “Board game?”
“Yeah,” I say hesitantly, unsure why he’s upset. “Every Friday we have spaghetti and play a board game. Last week it was Scrabble, but this week is my turn so I was thinking we could play Monopoly.”
“So I’m like, what? Third-wheeling your date?” he grits out.
I set my fork down, staring at him with a frown. “I’m trying to include you in my life.”
Devon’s jaw tics. “I don’t want to be in your perfect little life with your perfect husband. I want to take you away from this bland fucking house, and your stupid fucking aprons, and create a new place that only has memories of the two of us.”
My throat burns as my nose tingles from holding back tears. “I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl pining after you anymore. You were a fantasy that I never thought would be more, and now you’re here. And I’m scared, Devon. My life… my stupid, boring perfect life is everything I ever wanted with you. But you weren’t here, and it’s all my fault.”
His anger drains, and he turns the seat to face me. “No, .”
“But it is. You killed him because of me,” I yell out, standing from the table since I lost my appetite.
“And I’d do it again,” he snaps, standing with me. His chest heaves as he glares at me. The fury swirls in his eyes as my anger rises with his.
I scoff, crossing my arms. “So you have no regrets? Leaving me by myself for over a decade?”
Devon stills, contemplating his answer before his jaw pulls tight, and he looks away. “I would have just made sure I didn’t get caught.”
My mouth slacks open, and then I throw my hands up in frustration. “What about how I feel? The fact that I will always have a stain on my soul, there will always be one on your soul because of me?”
“You don’t have to bear that burden!” Devon shouts, coming around the table and stabbing a finger in his chest. “It is only on me and I accept that.”
“ Oh, fuck you,” I snap out. Moving to leave the room, he grabs my arm and pushes me into the wall. His palms on either side of my head cage me in. Both our breaths are coming out in rapid pants. My nipples harden, and my eyes flicker to his lips for a second.
I’m so worked up from arguing with Devon that I don’t hear the front door open, and Mike’s voice startles me. “What’s going on?”
Devon and I don’t look away from each other, daring each other to be the first and speak up. My husband walks to me, his soft hand wrapping around my elbow. Devon drops his arms, stepping away.
“?”
I sigh and shake my head. “Nothing, just something we disagree on.”
Devon scoffs. “She thinks I shouldn’t have gone to jail, and I should have just let bygones be bygones.”
My anger resurfaces, and I cross my arms. “It should have been my choice.”
“No, , because you would let anyone walk over you before you ever spoke a word.”
Mike’s attention ping-pongs between us. “What are you guys talking about?”
Devon looks at him curiously, then turns his glare at me. “You never told him why I was in jail?”
Grinding my teeth, I clench my jaw and then level him with a saccharine smile. “You never really came up at all.” The arrow hits where I intend, and guilt burns my insides.
Mike lets go of me to hold up his hands in a surrendering position. “Woah, hold on. No slinging words to be hurtful. Let’s talk this through and then we can get game night started.”
I can see the retort Devon withholds before his shoulders drop and his head shakes as he lets out a hollow laugh. “I killed the goddamn pervert that was recording showering and changing in her room.”
My stomach twists at the memory of finding the small camera in the ceiling of my bathroom light.
“What?” Mike exclaims. He peeks at me for confirmation, and I drop my gaze to the floor. “What the hell? When she was a minor?”
“Yup,” Devon says, his rough voice displaying his anger. “The sick bastard was an old friend of my father’s. Someone who was in our house multiple times a week.”
Mike drops his briefcase to the floor, and I watch him as he undoes his tie in quick, jerky movements. The flush building up his neck tells me how upset he’s getting. “Okay, then what happened?”
I bite down on my bottom lip, willing my tears to stay. Because out of everything that happened, this is the first crack in the foundation that could cause it all to come tumbling down.
Devon snickers. “Then we told our parents about the camera the next time the fucker came to dinner, and they defended him saying we were making shit up. But I saw his face. The terror that flashed in his eyes and the blood that drained from his fat fucking cheeks left a pale mask when he thought he’d been exposed.”
Rubbing my arms at the cold gathering in my chest, I step away from them. I don’t like to think about how much one night changed the course of both our lives. Devon watches me retreat into the kitchen and start cleaning up, my mind empty of thoughts.
They follow me, sitting at the table with somber expressions and not acknowledging my erratic movements as I bounce from task to task.
“What happened next?” Mike asks.
I can feel Devon’s eyes on me and I avoid them, not wanting to revisit any part of this memory.
“I was determined to prove them wrong,” he says. “So the next time he came over for dinner, I followed him home.”
Keeping my back to him, I slow my wiping of the counter. I don’t know everything that happened that night. I preferred not to look into the details of the case and the DA who tried to paint him as a psychopath.
“I broke into his house, determined to find the proof of his tapes. I— it wasn’t my intention to hurt him that night. But…”
“But what?” Mike asks.
Devon lets out a hollow laugh. “His collection was fucking sick. The images are burned into my mind forever, girls so much younger than . Then I found a video of her showering, and I just lost it. I needed to stop him, not just for but…”
“All the other girls?” Mike offers.
“Yeah,” Devon sighs. “They were all daughters of his friends, you know? Some of them wrote to me in prison thanking me. I’m sure a couple of them are the reason for my shorter sentence. My father had friends in high-places.”
“He also did nothing to prevent you from going in there in the first place,” I spit out. “They just left you to the wolves.”
Devon shrugs. “Baby, they had all the evidence they needed. I was as guilty as they come.”
“But he deserved it!” I scream, snapping my mouth closed after. I swallow, standing straighter as I feel guilty and a little lighter at the same time.
Mike moves to me, rubbing down my arm. “We don’t determine who deserves to live and who deserves to die.”
I squeeze my eyes shut; I don’t need to be lectured on the morality of it all. “I know.”
Another pair of footsteps walks towards me, and Devon’s scent wraps around me as I’m pulled into a warm chest. “It’s okay, . It’s unfair. I know, but that’s life.”