Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 16

"So what did Jake think of your apartment?"

I look away from the overflowing buffet, surprised by Ryan's unusually snarky tone. "He hasn't seen it. I texted him to tell him where it is but that's all."

I reach for a plate to fill with the delicious-looking food but Ryan says, "Come here a second," and tugs me out of line.

He knows I'm hungry. I told him so when we met at the mall to buy a present for his mother's upcoming birthday before we went for brunch, so why won't he let me eat now?

Because he has bigger fish to fry, so to speak. Once we're in a corner away from the crowd of fellow diners, he says, "Jake. Did you guys..."

I know exactly what he means and I feel certain I have to pretend not to. "Did we what?" I say. "Come here? No, we never did. Why?"

He steps a little closer and I know he knows I'm not confused. "I've been trying not to do this but I need to know. What happened between you two?"

There's pain in his voice but also something that's nearly anger, and it angers me right back. "Why? What does it matter?"

His head snaps back as if he's trying to dodge a swing. "Of course it matters. You're my wife."

"I didn't know I was married," I say, and his eyes flash with a sudden rage that's frightening to see. He's been so sweet all the way along. Is this what Donna saw before she left?

He must be able to tell he's scared me, because he drops his eyes, hiding that fury. "I'm sorry, it's just... look, I need to know. Did he have sex with you?" His voice cracks on 'sex'.

I search his face. It's easier since he's not looking at me. He looks tired, even more tired than when he arrived on Thursday, and I realize he really does need to know. He hates the idea of anyone else being with me, and he's afraid it's happened. No doubt it's been bothering him since Jake saying "My pleasure" made him wonder exactly how much pleasure Jake had with me. "Ryan."

He looks up, the anger replaced by apprehension.

"No."

His eyes close for a moment, then he opens them. "I'm glad."

I should probably leave it right there but I can't. He might find out eventually and then it'll be worse because I didn't tell. That's how people react to secrets, right? "But we were close."

He swallows. "How close?"

I can't give him details, tell him I was whimpering and writhing beneath Jake's shirtless body on his bed. That's simply too cruel. "It would have happened Thursday night. If the cop hadn't called when she did."

I can see him trying to take this in, but all he says is, "Ready to eat?"

I'm not as hungry as I was, for some reason, but I don't want to continue this conversation either so I nod and follow him back to the buffet line.

His back and shoulders are stiff, frozen, as I trudge along behind him while we fill our plates, and he never looks back to see if I'm there. I could run away and he wouldn't notice.

At the end of the line there are pitchers of various juices. I reach for the pineapple juice, and Ryan puts a glass down in front of me and says, "Don't spill any."

Fiery anger tears through me. I look down at the glass and pour the juice fast, fighting to hold the pitcher steady though my hands are shaking, and continue to pour until it overflows before Ryan can stop me. Then I set the pitcher down, use some nearby napkins to clean up the mess, and walk away to our table with my glass and plate.