Page 34 of Devil Inside

Was there something else? Someoneelse?

He wanted to be helpful. He wants to be an understanding husband. If there’s something that’s wrong, he wants to be there for her. Explore it. Does she want to go back to counseling? Fine, let’s do it. Greg’s all for it. She put in the hours for him, he could do the same for her. That’s the promise, the bond, they made. He just wanted his wife back. Not...

This.Who—or what—ever she was now.

Would sucking his cock shut him up?

He could still hear her saying it, laughing. The words rattling up from her throat, all guttural and husky. Like rusted nails. Her voice. It hadn’t sounded like Kim at all. The words came out of her mouth, sure, but they just didn’t sound like his wife. NotKim, for Christ’s sake.

Rich had been telling another one of his stories. His fucking god-awful boring stories. Even Greg was rolling his eyes—on the inside. Standard dinner party banter. The rest of the table just kind of side-eyed one another and grinned, letting Rich spin his blitzed yarn.

Not Kim. She downed her third glass of wine and turned to Caroline and just opened her mouth—Would sucking his cock shut him up?Caroline blanched. Rich hiccupped, his dull anecdote dying on the vine of his tongue. The atmosphere withered in an instant.

Greg froze. He couldn’t believe it. Kim turned to him, the look in her eyes sending an electrical chill through his veins—this Freon stare—and said,I’m bored. Can we leave now?

Fucking unbelievable.

Couples counseling. They’d gone through that rough patch a while back, after Greg had that—that frivolous little thing—that dalliance—not an affair, no, absolutely not—just a... what would he call it? A fling. Barely a blip. A hiccup in their marriage. Done now. Over.

They signed up for therapy and it worked. Itworked. Rich got on his hands and knees and begged for forgiveness. Outright begged. And Kim did! She forgave him, the ol’ lug.

Counseling worked. For a while. They could do it again, he figured.Believed.Whatever the hell was happening with Kim, they could figure it out. Together. As a couple.

That’s what Greg wanted, right? To help her? Fix Kim?

By the time Greg reached the kitchen, the drawers were all pulled open. All of them. Every last one. Nearly every single cooking utensil in their kitchen was scattered across the marble countertop. Greg had paid top dollar for that marble. Imported from Italy—or so the contractor said. For what he paid for it, it damn well better have been pilfered from the fucking Parthenon, fondled by fucking Leonardo Da Vinci himself. Greg simply stared at the motley assortment of cutlery spread out everywhere. Tools he’d never seen before. He didn’t know what purpose they served.Are these for cooking or performing a friggin’ appendectomy?He pictured his kitchen as an operating room. Here were these surgical tools, haphazardly sprawled out, just waiting for the doctors to arrive and start slicing and dicing. Whatever procedure they were prepping to perform, it sure must’ve been a doozy.

There’s Kim. Greg hadn’t noticed—hadn’t seen her—at first. She was so still.

Frozen.

She leaned against the counter. Her back was turned to Greg.All he could see were her shoulders. Her brunette hair cascaded down her back. When was the last time she’d gone to the hair salon? What in the hell did she do with herself all day while he was at work?

“Kim?”

She only turned her head. Barely that, even. He could see the tip of her chin, an inch of skin, the rest of her face still sheathed behind her hair.

Even so, somehow, Greg sensed that she was smiling.

“What’s going on here?”

Kim didn’t say a word.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked for, what? The fiftieth time?

Hundredth by now?

Her chin disappeared again, turning back to the counter.

So it’s the silent treatment again.

Splendid.

Both Ben and Francesca had been asking if Mom was okay. Even they sensed something was wrong with Mom. Greg had been making excuses for her all week.

Mom’s just tired, guys. Let’s let her rest a little bit longer. We’ll order takeout tonight. Don’t you worry about her. She’ll be better before you know it...

But he was done. Fuckingdone.