“It’s not like the latest Marvel film is so real,” I said, putting my hair into a ponytail and changing into my sweats and a tee. We’d been together for over a year, and I loved that I could come home, get out of my dress, put on some comfy sweats, and toss aside my bra.

“Lex-x-x,” he said, dragging out my name. He was sitting so far away from me on the couch, like we were strangers. I thought of the many times we’d fucked on that couch, usually initiated by Steve, when he’d go down on me for hours, the calming feel of his darting tongue. His big penis and the way he seemed to know just how to please me. Softly if I was vulnerable that day. Like an animal if I was acting wild. We were attuned to one another.

“We gotta talk,” he said. Sammi climbed into his lap and Steve stroked her fur.

“You told me that in the car.”

“I’m just gonna say it,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. On TV, Lala and Scheana were fighting, but Steve hadn’t raised the volume so I had no idea what triggered their skirmish. “Did you go into my emails?”

I froze, my neck prickly. My fingers burned and a gas ball rumbled in my stomach. Too much pasta.

“What are you talking—”

“There are a few—that were already read. But I hadn’t read them. It’s happened before.”

He looked sleepy. Steve had eyes with heavy lids, made him look brooding. Sometimes I found it sexy, other times a little dangerous. Like if I didn’t know him and saw this guy on the street, I’d find him threatening.

“That doesn’t mean—”

“And yesterday at my job, I could’ve sworn I saw you out on the lawn. And you ducked behind a tree. I’ve felt you watching—”

“That’s insane,” I said, and started babbling. My mother always said I had diarrhea of the mouth, yammering away, making no sense. I didn’t even know what I was saying to Steve, as if the more I talked, the better chance I had at getting away with my misdeeds.

“Lexi.” He knocked Sammi off his lap. I knew he was frustrated because I’d never seen him treat Sammi in that way. The cat appeared confused and gave a sharp meow. “If you just fess up to it. Do you think I’m cheating?”

Steve had an assistant, a girl named Tawny. Such an awful name. She had big hair like she’d stepped out of the 1980s and cat eyes. Sometimes when she tanned hard, Steve would eye her in a way he’d stopped eyeing me.

“No, I—I don’t think that,” I yelped.