As usual

The next day starts like a marriage and not like a plot.

Adam makes coffee. Mia steals his shirt. They eat standing up. The laptop stays closed on the nightstand because if they open it they will reread a thread that has already said Sunday.

Mia feels Sunday in small places. In the way Adam kisses her at the door a second longer than he needs to. In the way she checks her phone at lunch and does not open the app. In the way she crosses her legs at her desk.

Remy is already at the office. She is early again. Hair done. Makeup careful. The walk is still wrong. Mia watches her sit down as if the chair has a memory.

For an hour Mia lets her work.

Then she rolls into the gap.

“Morning.”

Remy’s “morning” is quiet. She does not look at Mia’s mouth.

Mia puts a file on her desk. “This first. Then the other one. Don’t make me chase you.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

Remy looks. The old tilt is gone. What is left is caution.

Mia spends the week using that.

On Monday she makes Remy stay late ten minutes for a stack that could have waited. When Remy stands to leave, Mia says, without raising her voice, “Walk normally. You look like you still have him in you.” Remy goes red and walks anyway.

On Tuesday Mia asks how her throat is in the break room, with two other people at the fridge. Remy says “fine” too fast. Mia smiles like they are talking about a cold. Later, at the printer, she stands behind Remy’s chair and says, “You don’t get to be a bitch this week. You don’t get to be a bitch next week. You sit next to me and you remember whose husband you begged for.”

Remy nods.

“Words.”

“I remember.”

“Who permitted it?”

“You did.”

“Good girl.”

On Wednesday Remy brings Mia coffee without being asked. Mia notices. She does not thank her like a friend. She takes it and says, “That’s better.” In the afternoon she sends Remy for lunch and tells her to get the order right. Remy gets the order right. When she comes back Mia looks at her mouth and says, “Still sore?” Remy says no, then looks away, then says yes.

Mia lets the yes sit.

On Thursday a man from another team laughs too loud at Remy’s desk. Remy laughs too, a thin leftover of the old performance. Mia waits until he leaves and rolls over.

“Don’t do that.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was the bitchy voice you used on me before you crawled down my hall with my husband’s cock on in your mouth. Put it away.”

Remy puts it away.

On Friday Mia opens the nightstand drawer in her head while she sits at work and sees Remy’s panties there. She tells Remy, very softly, “I still have them. The panties you wore that night.” She does not talk down to Mia once. She flinches when Mia says her name. She stays late when Mia tells her to stay.

Adam gets the version of this at night, in pieces, while they cook or while Mia’s legs are across his lap.

“She’s tame,” Mia says on Wednesday. “Not sweet. Tame. I like that more.”

Sunday stays behind every sentence.

They have sex during the week like people who are waiting and not starving. Sometimes slow. Sometimes he takes her over the counter because she said Danielle’s name by accident. After, they do not open the laptop. They do not need to. The cafe is already booked in their bones.

Lana texts on Tuesday.

I think I found someone.

Mia answers from the bathroom at work.

Tell me.

Lana: She’s new. She knows what it is. She knows the wife will be in the room. She knows what will happen the morning after. I didn’t promise her romance.

Mia: Good. Don’t bring her early. You know the calendar.

Lana: I know. First of the month. Then I wait. I get the fifteenth if you like her. New girl every time.

Mia: Say the rest.

Lana: No repeats. I drop her off. I pick her up. I don’t get him unless you say I earned it.

Mia looks at her own face in the mirror over the sink and types.

You had him for a night. The first and the fifteenth are the leash. Don’t get clever because you found a target. If she is not fully aware, she does not come here. Nothing illegal. No pressure that turns into a mess. If I don’t like her, you don’t get the fifteenth. That has not changed.

Lana: Understood.

Lana sends the name on Thursday and nothing else. Mia does not ask for a photo. She puts the phone face down and goes back to Remy’s cubicle and makes Remy reprint a deck that was already fine.

“Lana found someone,” Mia says to Adam that night. “I reminded her what the dates are for. She can want your cock as much as she wants. She gets it when she pays.”

He grins into his glass. Mia kicks him, fond, warning.

Saturday is ordinary on purpose. Groceries. Laundry. A walk. They do not mention the cafe until evening, and then only once.

“Tomorrow,” Adam says.

“Tomorrow,” Mia says. “We look at them. If it’s off, we leave. If it’s not, I decide what you do to his wife.”

They sleep. Or they pretend to.

Mia stands in the kitchen the next day in a dress that looks like coffee and is not. Adam rolls his sleeves. Neither of them checks the thread. They already know the table.

“Ready?” he asks.

Mia takes her ring with her thumb and turns it once.

“Let’s go meet them.”