David Cummings

Or would she simply be afraid of the silhouettes in the dark?

The bedroom was perhaps our most luxurious room.

A four-poster bed sat above a rug in the center of the space, and was surrounded on either side by a set of nightstands.

In the dark, I could still make out the shapes of our dressing cabinets lining the wall.

Adjacent to the entrance was the door to a walk-in closet, where I kept my spare clothes, the spot perfect for hiding.

I smiled as I contemplated the idea of taking this room all for myself once the events of the night were over.

Howard could survive on the couch.

However, before I took my hiding place, I made sure to make a few preparations.

Carefully, I lifted the bed up just enough so that I could remove the rug from under it.

Once I had freed it, I simply slid the tastefully plain thing near the entryway.

I did not want whatever guest who would be visiting our bedroom to leave a mess, and this seemed the easiest way to achieve that.

Behind me, I heard the click of the front door opening.

Howard had returned sooner than I anticipated.

Moving quickly, I slipped into the closet.

I heard Howard's voice chuckling from down the hall.

I promise, not a soul will know.

Even with a wall between us, I could tell my husband had that flicker in his eye again.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to come out early.

I needed that moment to be perfect.

Soon, another voice rang through the silence.