“Okay.”
She looked at him, long and hard and until it was difficult to breathe, and he didn’t say anything.
“Is there something you need, Sam?” His voice was rough, and it made her uncomfortable in the way only Logan ever did.
“No.”
“Okay then.” He turned and walked toward the garage. She closed the door, rubbing her chest, trying to ease the tightness there, except she knew it wasn’t physical.
She watched Logan from her secret position by the kitchen window. Watched him open the garage—which he knew the code for—and take out the power washer, loading it into the back of his truck. A truck she hadn’t seen before, but it wasn’t unusual for Logan to be in a different vehicle every third time she saw him.
Logan was unpredictable like that.
She didn’t like that. She preferred things uninteresting. She preferred it when things just bumped along. Expected. Predictable. Organized.
That was when Will got home. He pulled in next to Logan’s truck and stopped and talked to Logan before coming in, which just about sent her. She was waiting to talk to him. She was his wife, the one he’d just dropped a bomb on, and he was ignoring the smoldering wreckage that was her, so that he could have a chat with Logan.
She watched their faces. Tried to discern if they were actually talking about anything serious or if it was just the sort of thing Logan had said they’d talked about recently.
Kids and sports.
Finally, they said goodbye, and Logan got into his truck. Then Will pulled the rest of the way into the garage, and Sam took that as her cue to find somewhere to wait for him where it wouldn’t look like she’d been peering out the kitchen window the whole time.
She went with sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, because that was at least normal for her, and it only took thirty seconds to make one of those single-brew cups.
By the time Will came in, she was sitting, looking contemplative and yet also beautiful, she hoped.
“Hi,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”
He sounded uncomfortable. Nervous. This man who had been married to her for more than half of their lives. She had to hand it to him. He’d certainly managed to inject uncertainty into things. Maybe he found uncertainty exciting.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Yes,” he said, sitting down in the chair at the opposite end of the table from her.
“I want… I want you to explain it to me,” she said. “All of it. Like what exactly this means to you and why you want it and…when. When you started wanting it.”
“Okay. Where do you want me to start?”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Is this like key parties and upside-down pineapples and stuff? Like do you want to do this with me?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not… No.”
“Yeah, Whitney said swinging was different, but I had to make sure that was true in whatever online forums you’re reading.”
“You told Whitney?”
“I told Whitney and Elysia. First thing this morning.”
He made a weird, indignant sound. “I haven’t told anyone.”
No wonder Logan had been looking at her like she was on bath salts. She felt extremely relieved to hear that. But also defensive. “You’ve had all the time in the world to think about this. You got to choose the moment. I was blindsided. I needed to talk to my friends about it, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”
“Gee, thanks, Will. Glad you find me fair.” She growled and lowered her head. “Sorry. I’m going to try… I’m going to try to be fair, okay? And not snarky. Angry is fine, but I’m going to try to not…do that.”
He let out a long, slow breath, and she resented him taking the oxygen. “This feeling didn’t hit me overnight. I guess… I hoped you were unhappy too.”