It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (10 page)

“I understand.” She didn’t want him to
leave.

She lay curled into the cocoon the
intersection his arm and chest offered and ran her fingers along a line of fine
hair from his belly button to the valley between his pecs. She slid her leg
over his warm, powerful body, and became heavy with exhaustion.

“Ah, damn it.”

She stirred awake at the sound of Finn’s
whispered curse. She lifted her head from his body. They must have been in the
same position for hours. Rising sunlight streamed in the window and cut across
his face.

“Is everything all right?”

He kissed her nose. “More than all right.
Except I have to get to work.” He squeezed her into him. “I’d rather stay with
you.”

She pushed herself to sitting and pulled
the sheet over her body, aware of her naked form in the unforgiving morning light.
She glanced over her shoulder. “You can use my shower. Save you some time.” She
scooted off the bed, pulled the sheet with her and wrapped it around her as she
stood. In the mirror she saw him throw the quilt off and hop to his feet,
unashamed of his naked body. What did that feel like, that confidence, that
brazen love of yourself?

He stepped behind her and engulfed her in a
hug, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, that would help. Not
sure how to explain why I’m wearing the same suit two days in a row.”

She leaned into his body and smiled. His
erection against her butt took her breath from her. This man was a machine. “Tell
them you got lucky.”

“That I did.”

“I’ll go pour some coffee.”

He spun her around, tugged the sheet from
her hands and dropped it to the floor. He picked her up under her armpits and
she wrapped her legs around his waist. He headed to the bathroom. “After a
shower.”

He sat her on the cold countertop and ran
the water warm. She watched, trying to ignore her ever present
self-consciousness. She avoided her reflection in the mirror and enjoyed the sight
of him.

He took her hand and she jumped from the counter.
They stepped into the bathtub and he held her close. He was hard against her. Pangs
of arousal shot through her body. They made love right there, standing under
the steamy heat of the shower.

They ran soap over each other’s bodies and
he shampooed her hair. Then they stood under the water and just held each
other.

“Finn, why me?”

“Why you what?”

She pulled back and looked up at his face.
“Why this? Why us?” She sighed. “Why me?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Look at you. You’re a Greek god." She
rested one palm on his chest and sighed. "I’m a little, shall we say,
Rubenesque?”

One eyebrow shot up. “Rubenesque?”

“Yeah. You know. Fat.”

“I know what it means, and you are not fat.
You’re not even Rubenesque. What you are is beautiful.” He tightened his grip around
her waist. His hand slid down to her wet ass and he squeezed. “Every ounce of
you.”

The heat rose in her cheeks. “Well I’m
stacked. That’s something.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re lovely. Perfect
auburn hair and golden eyes. High cheekbones and the dimple in your chin. That
one snaggletooth.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

She searched his face for any sign of
deception. Gerald had never told her she was beautiful. He didn’t complain, but
he was short on compliments.

Finn brushed the back of his fingers across
her cheek. “But that’s not why. It’s because you are real. Honest. You are
loyal and true. You waited for him, always kept hope. Four years is a long
time.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t feel so loyal
right now.”

“Jem, he’s dead. You’re not cheating on
him. Not even on his memory. You respected him. Maybe more than he did you.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“It is true. I’ve been thinking about you —
about us — for years. I’ve never met a woman like you. You love, truly and deeply
and without reservation. You care about everyone else more than you care about
yourself.”

All this time and she’d never noticed his
interest. He was in total control of himself, never showed any emotion he
didn’t want her to see. But he never tried to control anything about her. Never
belittled her opinion or questioned her choices.

She averted her gaze and looked at the
shower curtain. “And I‘m stacked.”

“Yeah.” He kissed the top of her head. “That
too.”

everyone
has family

Finn stopped coming by for weekly nirvana
updates. Instead he stopped in almost every day, at any hour. Whenever his
messed up, always-on-call schedule would allow him enough time. Jem never said
no. Some days he dropped by just to run his fingers through her hair and kiss
her with a passion she was fast becoming accustomed to. Her favourite nights
were when he slept in her bed until dawn.

They would make love at any hour. All hours.
When they couldn’t wait to be together, they dropped to the floor in the front
entry and relished in the sweet release of raw sex. She had never initiated
with Gerald. He was the in-control guy. But with Finn she was free. Free to go
after what she wanted without fear of rejection. Without concern that he’d be
uninterested, too busy, too tired. He was never any of those things. She felt
more wanted in the past week than in all the years with Gerald combined. More
beautiful. Hell, she felt beautiful for the first time in her life.

Finn surprised the hell out of her. Not how
fast he flew into her bed — though after four years, could a month be
considered fast? No, it was the truth of him. The real Finn she'd never seen
before. Nothing like she expected. Not a ‘just the facts ma’am’ cop. Not all
straight-spined, crisp-voiced, rugged and hard. This Finn was warm. Funny. Sexy
as hell. His angles didn’t seem so sharp any more.

She sat with Joseph every morning while he
ate the food she brought. He hadn’t spoken again. He simply listened. And she
took full advantage, releasing her sorrows on him. It helped her through her
grief and seemed to break through small barriers with him.

Jem thought about Gerald less each day, her
thoughts consumed instead by Finn. But when they discussed the case, her worlds
collided. How ironic that her mind turned to her dead fiancé when her new lover
was in the house.

Two days before Gerald’s funeral, she
finished packing sandwiches into the van when her cell phone rang. The number
for Cecilia, Jem’s legal assistant, flashed on the screen.

“Cece, you’re working early.”

“No shit. When the hell are you coming
back? It’s been, like, five weeks or something. I’m stuck here late, coming in
early. And some of your clients are pissed. Richard says he’s suing the firm if
you don’t start returning his calls.”

“I’m doing okay, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry, Jem.”

“And Richard’s contract is with the firm,
not me. He can’t sue.”

“I know, but it doesn’t stop him from
calling me ten times a day.”

Jem winced. “Sorry for that. But I’m just
not ready yet. There’s so much to process. I have to pack up all of Gerald’s
things. And I leave tomorrow morning for the funeral. Maybe after that I can
get my shit together.”

“Maybe. I hope so.” Cecilia sighed into the
receiver. “So, you been on a date yet?”

Jem smiled. Cece had tried to fix her up at
least a dozen times. “Give me a break.”

“Come on, girl. It’s been four freaking
years. When are you gonna get yourself some?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“What about that cop that’s been calling
you all the time? You said he was hot.”

“Goodbye, Cece. I’ll call you next week.”
Jem ended the call and smiled. Yes, he was hot all right.

 “I won’t be around for a couple of days.” Jem
peeled an orange, tore it in half and handed one piece to Joseph. “I wanted you
to know. I’ve brought some peanut butter sandwiches. Not sure they’ll last
until Sunday but you can always go to the shelter. Maybe you should do that
anyway. A nice shower, a hot meal. Even a real bed.”

He shrugged.

“I’m going to Vancouver. Have to face
Gerald’s mother. Attend his funeral.” She huffed. “I always figured we’d be
married for decades and have a couple of grandkids before I had to do that. And
of course, I’d be the one planning it, not his mother. I’d be his widow. His
loving wife of forty-plus years. And his mother would be long-since dead.” She
pulled a section of orange off and popped it in her mouth. “It’s funny how
things turn out, eh? Never what you plan. Never how you dream it will be.” She
peeled another section and stared at her hands. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. That’s
your orange.” She held it out for him.

He put his hand on her forearm, pushed it
back to her and raised his eyebrows.

This was new, this sharing of food. She’d
never done that with any other resident. “Thanks. I’ve got more in the van for
you.” She ate another section. Was it odd to consider a near-mute homeless man
a friend when you only shared a one-sided conversation? He was her personal
sounding board. A silent therapist. Maybe that was the best kind.

“I’ve talked your ear off about me, haven’t
I? What about you, Joseph?” She hesitated. “Can I call you Joe?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know anything about you, Joe.”

He stiffened, stopped eating the orange and
stared at her.

“What about family? Everyone has family. Are
your parents still alive?”

He shook his head with a sharp jerk.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She sat in silence for a
few minutes and ate her half of the orange, one peeled section at a time. “Joe?”

He glanced up at her.

“Are you married?”

Another sharp shake of his head.

“But you wear a wedding band. I’m afraid it’s
going to fall off. You must have lost a lot of weight. Maybe you should move it
to another finger.”

He twirled the band on his ring finger and
then made a fist. Another sharp shake of his head.

“All right. I understand.” She glanced at Gerald's
engagement ring on her own finger and twirled it.

She scanned the park. The residents went
about their business, their wariness of Joe had waned and their interest in her
interactions with him faded. She brought her attention back to him. “What about
children, do you have kids?”

Silence. He hung his head and stared at the
half-eaten orange in his lap. Then tears dripped onto it. His hands quaked and
his shoulders shook.

“Oh, Joe.” She scooted beside him and put
her arms around him. He stiffened, didn’t speak. Then his body melted under her
touch. He leaned into her, his face against her shoulder, and sobbed.

She cooed at him like a mother to a
distraught child and patted his head. She resisted the urge to wipe the grease
from her palm.

What had happened to this poor man? And how
could she ever find out if he wouldn’t tell her?

three men

“Call me if you need anything. Even just to
vent.” Finn stood at the departures gate, one hand cradling the side of Jem’s
face.

“I will. This is going to suck.” She leaned
her forehead against his chest and circled his waist with both arms. “Come with
me?” she said into his breastbone.

“I would if I could. Honest.” He lifted her
face with one finger and laid a gentle kiss on her lips. “Only two days. Not
even full days. I’ll see you Saturday night.”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed
him, slowly and with tongue. Who cared who was watching? Public displays of
affection were her new life’s passion.

She sat in the window seat of the airplane
and stared out at the mountain tops below. She ignored nature’s beauty, her
thoughts too crowded by the three men in her life.

Gerald, who for so long had been the only
man she cared to think about, was front and centre today. Althea was devastated
that the funeral couldn’t be open casket. Too much damage from the beating he
took, the autopsy, the fact he’d been dead more than a month, only frozen in
the morgue, never embalmed.

Jem was relieved. She couldn’t bear to look
into his broken face. She would remember him at his prime, when he still had
some small bit of fun and frivolity about him. When was that exactly? She shut
her eyes and conjured the image of him that she loved best. ‘It’s getting hot
in here. So take off all your clothes.’ Yes, that was the Gerald she loved. The
Gerald she would remember. The rest could melt away.

Visions of Finn pushed Gerald aside.
Different kinds of thoughts, immediate memories. All wrapped around hammering
heartbeats and knowing smiles and sluices of arousal-induced adrenaline. Finn
was her future. Her present. Her gift.

And Joseph. Poor, poor Joe. He was the
mystery. A mystery that baffled her even more than Gerald’s disappearance and
murder. Gerald's fate could be explained by his mental state. His insistence on
stopping medication. It all came from that. How could anyone be surprised by
the ending? Did she want the bastard that shot him caught? You bet. Did it
consume her daily thoughts? Not anymore.