Chapter 12 Under His Own Name #2
Smoke still lingered in her hair despite the clean coat she wore. She held no file, phone, or legal pad. Her hands were empty.
I stepped back from the doorway.
“Are you alone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“May I come in?”
The question nearly undid me.
“Yes.”
She entered and waited while I closed the door. The room looked worse with her inside it. Unmade bed, paper cups, one chair, clothing folded on the luggage rack. Evidence of a life reduced to what fit in a duffel.
I kept my hands at my sides.
“Did Evelyn send you?” I asked.
“No.”
“Does anyone know you are here?”
“Rina.”
Good. Someone knew where she was.
Maren looked at the copy of the affidavit on the table. “You used my corrections.”
“They were accurate.”
“You admitted the affair in a public filing.”
“Yes.”
“You did not call it a mistake.”
“No.”
“You did not say Leah seduced you.”
“No.”
“You did not use Micah.”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. “Why?”
“Because none of those things made the choice.”
She crossed the space between us and put both hands on my face.
This time, she kissed me.
For one stunned second, I did nothing. Then she opened her mouth against mine and every memory of her body returned at once. I gripped the edge of the table instead of touching her.
She pulled back enough to speak.
“You may touch me.”
“Maren.”
“I came here because I want you.”
The words moved through me like pain.
I searched her face. “This does not have to mean anything beyond tonight.”
“It means I want my husband’s hands on me. It does not mean I forgive what he did with them.”
The distinction was brutal and clear.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I touched her waist.
She shuddered, then pressed closer. The sound she made when I kissed her again was one I had known for eleven years. Familiarity did not make the moment safe. It made every movement carry history.
I stopped when my hand reached the hem of her sweater.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I will.”
She took off the sweater herself.
I had seen her naked thousands of times. The first sight of her skin now felt like something I had no right to receive. She watched the restraint move across my face.
“Do not worship me because you betrayed me,” she said. “Be here.”
So I was.
I kissed the line of her throat, the hollow beneath her ear, the place at her shoulder where tension always gathered. Her fingers moved into my hair. When I unfastened her bra, I waited until she nodded before letting it fall.
She touched the bare stitch line on my chest where the vice-president rocker used to sit.
“Permanent?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Even if we win?”
“Yes.”
Her palm stayed there.
Then she pushed my shirt open and put her mouth against the scar below my collarbone, the one from a recovery cable twelve years earlier. I closed my eyes.
“No,” she said. “Look at me.”
I did.
She unbuttoned my jeans. My body responded with an urgency that embarrassed me, but Maren did not look away. She wrapped her hand around me once, slow and firm, then stopped when my breath broke.
“You were hers three times,” she said.
The sentence cut through desire.
“Yes.”
“In the apartment twice.”
“Yes.”
“In Erie once.”
“Yes.”
“Do not lie to make this easier.”
“I won’t.”
She released me and stepped back.
For a second, I thought she had changed her mind.
Then she removed the rest of her clothes and lay on the motel bed.
“My choice,” she said.
“Your choice.”
I undressed and joined her only when she held out her hand.
The first touch between her thighs made her inhale sharply. I moved slowly, watching her face, letting her guide pressure and pace. When she pulled me over her, I reached toward the nightstand.
“I have condoms,” I said.
“We were tested after the filing.”
I had submitted to testing through my doctor and sent the results to counsel because Maren requested medical confirmation without contact. “Negative.”
“So am I.”
She wrapped one leg around me.
I still waited.
“Eli,” she said. “Now.”
I entered her carefully.
The sensation was so familiar that grief struck before pleasure. Maren closed her eyes, and I stopped.
“Look at me,” I said.
Her eyes opened.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes.”
I moved.
There was no way to separate desire from everything between us.
Each stroke carried memory, anger, and the knowledge that another woman had occupied a place in our marriage that should never have opened.
Maren gripped my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
When I tried to soften, she pulled me closer.
“Do not make me fragile,” she said.
“You are not.”
“Then stop holding back.”
I gave her what she asked for, not what I wanted to believe she needed. The bed struck the wall in a rough rhythm. Her breath broke against my mouth. When she came, she said my legal name, not my road name.
I followed with my face against her neck and one hand locked in the sheet instead of around her.
Afterward, I moved to give her space.
She caught my wrist.
“Stay until I decide.”
I lay beside her without touching.
Minutes passed. Traffic hissed over wet pavement outside. The radiator clicked. Maren stared at the ceiling.
“This did not repair anything,” she said.
“I know.”
“I may regret coming.”
“I know.”
“I do not owe you another night because I chose this one.”
“I know.”
She turned her head. “Stop saying you know when all you mean is that you accept the sentence.”
I swallowed. “Then tell me what answer is true.”
“I do not have one.”
“That is true too.”
Her expression shifted, not toward forgiveness but toward exhaustion. She placed her hand over mine on the sheet.
We stayed that way for ten minutes.
Then she dressed.
I did not ask her to remain. At the door, she looked back at the room, at me, and at the affidavit on the table.
“Desire is not trust,” she said.
“No.”
“It is not forgiveness.”
“No.”
“It is not a promise.”
“I understand.”
This time she let the phrase stand.
She left.
I waited until her car pulled onto River Road before sitting at the table.
My phone had been returned after the device surrender because Nolan issued me a monitored replacement for work contact. One new email waited from Evelyn.
URGENT: SUPPLEMENTAL DECLARATION RECEIVED FROM LEAH SUTTER
The preview showed one sentence.
Ms. Sutter has disclosed an additional device-transfer event not contained in Mr. Voss’s affidavit or prior club statements.
I did not open the attachment.
I knew what it contained.
Maren had come to me because the public record looked closer to complete.
By morning, she would learn exactly how far from complete I had kept it.