The key to my apartment feels heavier than usual, like it's made of guilt instead of metal. Jenna's parting words echo in my head, drowning out whatever wisdom might have come from the meeting I just sat through.
"From where I'm standing, Scott Adams, you're on some pretty shallow ground right now."
I push the door open, my mind still replaying that moment, Jenna's disappointed eyes, Diesel's concerned frown, the weight of judgment from people who've watched me rebuild myself only to potentially throw it all away again.
The apartment smells like fresh bread and deli meat. My stomach growls in response, a betrayal from my own body when my brain is still too tangled to think about food.
Summer sits at our kitchen table, a half-eaten sandwich in front of her. When she sees me, her eyes widen with an eager puppy-like look. The smile that spreads across her face is immediate and blinding.
"Babe, hey!" she chirps, like I've been gone for hours instead of just ninety minutes. "I made us lunch."
She springs up from her chair with an energy that makes my exhaustion feel even heavier. In one fluid motion, she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and places it next to a plate she's already prepared, a sandwich stacked high with turkey and cheese, a handful of chips arranged in a perfect semicircle beside it.
"How was your meeting?"
I drop my keys on the counter with a clatter that feels too loud in the small kitchen. "Fine," I lie, shrugging off my jacket. "Nothing special."
Summer pulls out the chair for me with a flourish, like she's a maître d' at some fancy restaurant instead of my estranged wife in our tiny kitchen.
"Thank you," I say, sinking into the seat. My body feels heavier than it should, weighted down by Jenna's words and Diesel's concerned face.
"Of course," Summer replies, sliding into her chair across from me. She watches me intently as I take the first bite of my sandwich, her eyes tracking the movement like she's studying for a test.
After a few moments of silence broken only by my chewing, she leans forward, elbows on the table. "So is Steve still your sponsor?"
I nod, swallowing a mouthful of turkey and bread that suddenly feels dry in my throat. "Yeah."
"Do you have any other friends at the meetings?" she asks, her voice casual but her eyes sharp with interest.
I rack my brain for how to navigate this conversation, knowing I should probably avoid mentioning Jenna after what just happened. But my mind's too exhausted for clever evasion.
"That Jenna girl we went to college with is going to NA now."
Summer's face transforms instantly, her features twisting into an expression of pure disgust. "The nursing school dropout with the pink hair and those gross contacts?"
"Uh, yeah..." I pause, processing this new information. "She dropped out?"
"Yeah," Summer says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I didn't know her well since she didn't hang out with us much, but she got super into drugs." She takes a delicate bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "Total mess, from what I heard."
"Huh," I respond, feeling strangely defensive of Jenna. "I just remember partying with her sometimes."
Summer's laugh is sharp and knowing. "Yeah, you used to love partying with everyone." There's an edge to her voice, something between accusation and nostalgia.
"Yeah," I sigh, setting down my sandwich.
"But that's all behind you now, right?" Summer reaches across the table to touch my hand, her fingers cool against my skin. "We're both different people now."
"You're right," I say, nodding slowly.
Summer's eyes narrow, her head tilting slightly as she studies my face. The transformation is subtle but immediate, her casual curiosity hardening into something more deliberate, more calculated.
"So," she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "did you fuck Jenna while I was away?"
I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of the question pressing against my chest. My appetite vanishes, but I force myself to take another bite anyway, buying time. The sandwich is genuinely good, soft bread, the perfect ratio of meat to cheese, a hint of mustard that cuts through the richness. Summer always knew how to make a perfect sandwich.
After I swallow, I meet her gaze directly. "I already told you I didn't sleep with anyone else while you were gone. But even if I had, it's not like it would matter, right?"
The words hang in the air between us, heavier than they should be. Summer's eyes flash dangerously, her fingers tightening around her water bottle until the plastic crackles. I watch her face transform, the sweet, eager-to-please wife who greeted me at the door vanishing in an instant.
"So what exactly is she to you?" she finally asks, voice dangerously quiet.
I take another bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly. Part of me wants to poke the bear, to push back against this interrogation. But I'm too tired for another emotional explosion.
"Jenna's just a friend from the program," I say, keeping my voice even. "Someone who understands what it's like to fight for sobriety every day."
Summer's face changes before my eyes, like someone flipped a switch. The warmth drains completely, leaving her features mask-like and cold. Her eyes, those blue eyes I once found so beautiful, turn to ice.
"How many people in the program know about what happened to me?" she asks, her voice flat and emotionless.
I set my sandwich down. "A few," I admit cautiously. "I've never told the full story to everyone. But I shared it with Diesel... and a couple others."
She nods slowly, processing this information with eerie calmness. Then, without warning, she rises from her chair, circles the table, and slides onto my lap in one fluid motion. The weight of her settles directly against my crotch, her ass pressing into me with deliberate precision.
"Did you tell Jenna where I was?" she whispers, grinding subtly against me.
My hands hover awkwardly at my sides, not quite touching her. "What do you mean?"
"It's a simple question, Scott." Her voice remains eerily controlled as she shifts her weight, creating friction that my body responds to despite my brain's objections. "Did you tell her where I went? What I was doing? Who I was with?"
"Yeah, I told her."
Summer's eyes flash with something dangerous, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she shifts her weight on my lap. Her lips curl into a tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Did you ever ask her out?" she asks, her voice deceptively sweet despite the tension radiating from her body.
"No," I answer honestly, meeting her gaze.
She leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. "Then did she ever ask you out?" she whispers, each word dripping with quiet menace.
I hesitate, and that single beat of silence tells her everything she needs to know. Summer's body goes rigid against mine, her fingernails pressing half-moons into my skin through my shirt.
"She did, didn't she?" The softness in her voice makes the accusation more dangerous somehow. "Little pink-haired Jenna wants my husband."
"It wasn't like that," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "She just asked if I wanted to grab coffee a few times. As friends."
Summer laughs, the sound like breaking glass. "As friends? Really, Scott? Do you think I'm stupid?" She shifts on my lap, creating deliberate friction that makes my breath catch despite myself. "Do you think I can't recognize when another woman wants what's mine?"
"I always said no," I tell her, my hands finally coming to rest on her hips, trying to still her movements. "I told her I was still married."
Summer's eyes narrow to dangerous slits, her weight shifting deliberately on my lap as she studies my face like she's searching for lies hidden in the lines around my eyes.
"Did you kiss anyone while I was gone?" The question comes out soft but razor-edged.
I shake my head, feeling something raw and honest rise up in my chest. "No, Summer. I was destroyed." My voice cracks on the last word, surprising both of us. "It took everything I had not to break sobriety. I had to pull my life together alone."
Something in her expression shifts. The hard edges of anger melt away, replaced by a fragility that catches me off guard. Her eyes well up with tears, but not the calculated ones from earlier. These look genuine, spilling over and tracking mascara down her cheeks in dark rivers.
"Oh, Scotty," she whispers, wrapping her arms around me with such sudden force that I nearly topple backward in the chair.
She buries her face against my neck, her body trembling against mine. I feel the wet heat of her tears soaking through my collar as she clings to me like a drowning person. The shift is so abrupt, so complete, that I'm left disoriented, my hands awkwardly settling on her back.
"I'm here now," she murmurs against my skin, her voice thick with emotion. "You'll never have to be alone again, okay?"
Her arms tighten around me until it's almost difficult to breathe, her fingernails digging into my back through my shirt.
"I promise I'll never leave you," she continues, her words tumbling out faster now. "Nothing you do could make me go away. Not drugs, not debt, not anything."
I open my mouth to respond, but she pulls back suddenly, cupping my face between her palms with an intensity that makes me freeze. Her eyes are wild, pupils dilated, tears still streaming.
"Even if you tried to make me leave, I wouldn't go," she says, her smile growing wider, teeth gleaming. "I'd stay right here, watching over you. Forever."
A chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of her body against mine. There's something unnerving in the way she's looking at me, like I'm both precious and trapped.
"Even if you cheated on me with a thousand women, I'd forgive you," she whispers, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones with uncomfortable pressure. "I'd kill them all first, of course, and then punish you. But then I'd forgive you."
She laughs, the sound high and brittle, before pressing her forehead against mine so hard it almost hurts.
"If you died, I'd die too," she breathes against my lips. "They'd bury us together, and I'd hold you forever in the dark. Isn't that romantic?"
My heart hammers against my ribs as her words sink in.
"Summer," I say carefully, trying to create some space between us. "I think you need to…"
"Shhhh," she presses a finger against my lips, cutting me off. "You don't need to say anything. I know you're scared of trusting me again. But I'll prove it." Her eyes light up with a manic gleam. "I'll prove I'll never leave."