He segues from that topic to ask about my day. I tell him that everything is fine and smile to reinforce the point. In fact, my day was terrible. Thankfully, my lie is enough to end that topic of discussion, as Stuart doesn’t inquire further. I breathe a sigh of relief that I’ll be spared from having to provide him with any details. I take the opportunity to suggest we adjourn back to the living room.

Stuart settles into the club chair and immediately returns to his book. I take residence on our sofa and turn on the television. There’s nothing good on, so I begin watching a rom-com I saw twenty years ago and didn’t much like even back then. At least it’s on a pay channel, so there won’t be any commercials.

At ten, I tell him that I’m exhausted and get up to head to the bedroom. Most nights we head to bed separately, lately because I’ve still been at work when Stuart goes to sleep. On those nights when I am home, he normally stays up later than I can.

Tonight, however, Stuart follows me into our bedroom.

Even though in nearly every way Stuart appears to the outside world to be a beta man—slight in stature, balding, somewhat effeminate-sounding voice, working a job that is held in most schools by a woman—in the sack he’s nothing but alpha. Tonight he dispenses with foreplay, gently enters me, and then rests his body on top of mine and establishes a slow, steady rhythm.

It’s been quite a while since Stuart and I had sex. So long, in fact, that I can’t remember the last time. I shut my eyes, trying to escape into the feeling, hoping to block out my pain for a few minutes. To my pleasant surprise, it works. So much so that when Stuart increases his tempo, I feel myself approaching the threshold. Stuart must sense that I’m close because he holds off his own pleasure. I climax, and he releases just a few thrusts later.

Before withdrawing, Stuart whispers in my ear, “I love you.”

For the third time this evening, I feel guiltier than I had previously imagined possible.

3. ELLA BRODEN

3.

ELLA BRODEN

The transformation from Cassidy back to Ella Broden is akin to the way scuba divers ascend slowly to the surface to avoid the bends. Right now, I’m in the middle. I look like Cassidy—heavy black eyeliner, crazy tousled hair, and clothing that I might as well have painted on—but in Gabriel’s presence, I always feel like Ella.