Chapter 72
by 
Yelawolf
Do you do anything else?
No don't risk it in front of Ava
The cursor blinks on the empty screen, a tiny, mocking heartbeat. "Your turn?" Your throat feels tight. The image of Peta's hand, the subtle rocking of her hips, is seared onto the back of your eyelids. But Ava's steady breathing beside you is a cold, grounding presence. You can't. Not here. Not like this.
Your fingers hover, then type a brief, sterile response. "Can't. Wife's right here."
You hit send, expecting... something. A pouty emoji. A playful "Aww, okay." You don't expect the three little dots that appear and disappear, reappear, then vanish again for a full minute. The silence stretches, filled by nothing but the hum of the house and your own suddenly racing thoughts.
Then the reply comes. One word.
"Wow."
It lands like a slap. It's not angry, not yet. It's worse. It's disappointed, laced with a thin veneer of condescending pity. A second text follows immediately.
"Really? That's it? I send you something like that and get a 'the wife is here'?" Another text. "I thought you were different, John. I thought you had some balls."
The warmth vanishes, replaced by a cold, clammy feeling of shame. The thrill is gone, curdled into something cheap and sordid. She's not flirting anymore. She's testing you, and you've just been found wanting.
Before you can formulate a reply, a third message pops up, this one sharp and edged with genuine irritation.
"Don't worry about it. Forget it. Go back to being a good little husband. My mistake."
The phone goes silent. The conversation is over. She's shut the door, and you're left standing on the wrong side of it, a prude in a suit, just like she said. The heat of arousal is gone, leaving only the sour aftertaste of a gamble badly played. You set the phone down, not just face down this time, but pushed to the far edge of the nightstand, as if its corruption might be contagious. The only company you have now is the dark, and the heavy, silent judgment of your own reflection in the black screen.
