Free Slip of the Tongue by Jessica Hawkins Page A

does?”
    “Always,” I whisper. “Until these last two months.”
    “What happened two months ago?”
    I bite my bottom lip hard. It’s what I’ve been asking myself over and over. One day, he was himself. The next day . . . off. “He found out his father is dying.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “He turned down a promotion at work so he could stay available for his dad. But a few months ago, I took a promotion, and now I’m making a tiny bit more money than him.”
    “Would that upset him enough to ice you out?”
    “I don’t think so. The difference is negligible, really.” The Nathan I know wouldn’t be so petty, but lately, I’ve been learning quite a bit about the man I married. “He seemed happy for me.”
    “So, you think maybe . . .?”
    “What?” I ask.
    “I’m not stupid,” he says. “I’m not going to say it first.”
    “That he met someone? No. I don’t think so. There must be another explanation.” I open my eyes, and Finn seems closer than he was a few seconds ago.
    “Hi,” he says, “again.”
    “Hi.” My voice is creaky. “What’s the diagnosis?”
    He slides a finger up the back of my neck. Goose bumps light up my skin. “Some tightness, but relatively knot-free.”
    “That’s good.”
    “Yes, it is.” He inhales deeply and stares at me. “I have to tell you something.”
    My hairline prickles. I can sense it’ll be heavy, and I’m not sure I want to hear it. I force a crooked smile that probably looks as awkward as I feel. “I smell like dog food?”
    “I want to kiss you,” he says without missing a beat. “I won’t, but I just thought you should know.”
    My stomach drops as if I’m in free fall. I bite my lip involuntarily, then release it, afraid it’ll look like an invitation. Can he really come out and say that? Without prompting, without wavering? You can want to kiss someone and not say it. Should I be angry he confessed that? I’m not. I’m curious. Stirred, even. Since we’re being honest, I ask what I want to ask. “Why?”
    “Why do I want to kiss you? Or why did I tell you?”
    My heart rate picks up. I lose my nerve. “The second one. That’s not the kind of thing you just come out and say to a stranger. A married stranger.”
    “Because I like you.” He absentmindedly caresses the nape of my neck with his fingertip. “So I want to be honest.”
    I put my hand over his wrist, and he stops. Now, and for the last hour, it’s as if we’re the only two people on the planet. The Bad Wife and the Stranger. If I let him kiss me, nobody would ever know. He doesn’t wear lipstick. Neither do I.
    “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he asks.
    I nod. I don’t have to pull his hand away. He takes it back willingly.
    “It’s probably best.” He hands me my sweater and the speaker. We forgot to turn the music on. “I can finish up here.”
    Already, before I can get a word out, he’s walking me through the apartment.
    I say the only thing left to say. “Goodnight.”
    “See you around.” He pulls the door open, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Talk to him. If you want to know what’s wrong, just ask him.”
    I pull my sweater around me, even though hair sticks to the back of my neck. My feet sweat in my boots. “Thanks.”
    “Sure.” He lets me out.
    I walk across the hall, unlock the door to my apartment, and find the lights on. I set my keys down as Ginger comes in, wagging her tail. “Nate?”
    “In here,” he calls from the living room.
    I remove my shoes and socks, put them on the rack in the entryway, and find him on the couch in his sweats. “Why didn’t you come get me?” I ask.
    He pauses whatever sports channel he’s watching. “I didn’t know where you were.”
    “I left you a note.”
    “You did?” He hits play on the remote and returns his attention to the TV.
    I go into the kitchen. The Post-It is still on the fridge, but it’s been moved a few inches to the left. He just lied to me. I pull it off and go