“No,” Rachel said. She shook her head and sighed. “She let you think you seduced her. Women know how to do that. Believe me, she was in control the entire time. You didn’t make a move that she didn’t manipulate. Men are simple that way. No offense.”

“Bullshit,” Archie said. “I’m an adult. I was married with a family and I made the choice to betray them.” The thought of it still made him feel an almost physical pain. “I went there of my own free will. And I went back over and over again. Even when things got weird.” He shook his head bitterly. Who was he kidding? “Especially then,” he said. “I liked it. All of it.” He rubbed his eyes with his hand. “I liked it a lot. It must have been there, in me, all along, right? But it turns out I’m capable of a lot of things that I didn’t know I was capable of a few years ago.”

Someone opened the front door. Archie heard the knob turn and the faint creak as the hinges rotated. The door was just out of his line of sight, blocked by the refrigerator. But he saw Rachel’s eyes widen in terror and she began to squirm wildly on the chair. Everything slowed. He lifted his weapon and aimed it at the empty place where Gretchen would move through when she came through the door.

He heard a shuffling as Ginger worked her way out from under the coffee table, trotted to the center of the room, her nails clicking on the wood floor. But she didn’t go all the way to the door. The sound of her steps stopped suddenly somewhere in the center of the room. She didn’t bark. She just stood there.

Rachel gulped back sobs.

Archie took a step toward the door, with his weapon raised. He could feel the Oxycodone warming his blood.

He waited for Gretchen to step inside where he could see her, but she didn’t appear.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Archie called.

No one answered.

Sweat thickened on Archie’s upper lip.

Rachel was still squirming on the chair, making tiny gulping sounds. “Rachel?” Archie hissed. “What can you see?” Her eyes remained fixed on the doorway. He couldn’t tell if she didn’t hear him or was just too frightened to respond.

Archie couldn’t stand this anymore. He slid along the kitchen bar, the gun raised in front of him.

He saw her foot first, a white pump planted on his threshold. Then each step revealed more of her, like a curtain pulling back on a stage.

Gretchen Lowell, in his doorway.

Archie felt a rush of feeling—seeing her in person—that made his throat go dry. Or maybe it was just the pills kicking in.