The Wife Upstairs(24)

Luckily, Campbell comes to my rescue. Shoving her sunglasses up on her head, she looks at me, eyes wide. “You’re the mystery girl,” she says, then nudges Emily. “Remember, we said that we thought Eddie was seeing someone?”

Emily’s jaw drops comically round, a little “oh” escaping her mouth.

I wave my free hand, shifting my weight slightly. “It was really sudden,” I say, “and it’s still really new, and I felt awkward saying anything, and…” I trail off, then give a sort of groan, rolling my eyes. “Well, now I feel really awkward.”

This is another trick I’ve learned over the years—make people think they have the upper hand, and they trust you so much faster. I can already see Campbell’s expression softening, and Emily’s smile seems genuine.

I’m not a threat, not an interloper. I’m just Sweet Jane Who Got Absurdly Lucky and Knows It.

They can work with that.

Emily reaches out and slaps affectionately at my arm. “You minx,” she teases. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone use that word, but it sounds right coming out of Emily’s mouth.

And then, just like I’d hoped, she gestures back toward her house. “This is too good a story to hear while we’re standing in the middle of the street. Let’s go back to mine.”



* * *



It feels different, being in Emily’s house as a guest.

I let Adele out into the backyard with Major and Colonel, smiling as the dogs wag their tails at me, then go back inside to the kitchen, where Campbell and Emily are standing at the counter. They’ve totally been talking about me—they look up too quickly when I come in, and move a little farther apart—but they don’t seem suspicious or pissed off. Just surprised, probably.

And if I’m honest, I like being the subject of conversation.

Emily is shoving pieces of fruit into a juicer, the motor whirring, and the resulting juice is a dark, viscous green, but I take it anyway, smiling as I sip.

It tastes like someone dumped half a pound of ginger into grass cuttings, but this is what women like Emily and Campbell drink, so fuck me, I guess I’ll develop a taste for it.

“Sooooo,” Emily drawls, leaning on the counter, propping her chin on her fist like she’s a teenager at a slumber party. “Tell us everything.”

I laugh and shrug. “I mean, it’s really not that interesting. We got to talking one afternoon, he asked me for coffee, and then…” I trail off, grinning and looking demurely down at the counter.

Always better to let people use their imaginations, rather than giving them every detail.

Except that Campbell wants details, because of course she does.

“So, like, what are you two now?” she asks, tapping her nails against her glass. She’s got a new ring on her index finger, a thin gold band studded with diamonds, and I try not to stare at it, try not to want it. “Like, is it serious?”

She’s smiling when I meet her gaze, her head titled down in that conspiratorial “girl talk” pose I’ve seen her, Emily, and Caroline do a thousand times, but there’s something hard in her eyes, and a muscle ticks in her jaw.

Careful, careful.

For a second, I think about going the helpless ingenue route again, all, “Oh, I don’t know, we’re taking it day by day,” that whole song and dance. But there’s another part of me that doesn’t want to do that. That wants them to know I’m here to stay, so they better get used to it, and fast.

No shrugging, then. No blushing. I look Campbell directly in the eyes as I say, “It is, yeah.”

Emily gives a little squeal and reaches out to squeeze my arm. “This is so exciting!”

Campbell glances over at her, and I can see her waver. If Emily throws her support behind me, then what choice does Campbell really have but to do the same?

She must figure that out, too, because she finally smiles at me, and says, “It really is. Congratulations, Jane.”

Now I can go back to the “aw shucks” thing. “I mean, we’re just dating,” I say. “It’s not like we’re getting married.”

“But you’re living together, right?” Emily asks, and when I don’t immediately answer, she says, “I mean, I just assumed. If you’re walking Adele for funsies.”

“We are,” I reply, glancing down, feigning a little embarrassment. “My apartment was on the whole other side of town, so it just made sense to move in.”

I catch a little look between Emily and Campbell, but don’t know what it means exactly. Do they think I’m slutty for moving in with a man so fast? Do they think Eddie’s stupid for letting me?

I don’t know, and before I can say anything else, Emily shrugs. “So you might get married one day. Seems likely.”

I see her gaze slide over to that massive stainless-steel fridge of hers. There’s a picture there, of Emily and Campbell at some backyard barbecue thing, Bea Rochester and Blanche Ingraham standing between them.

They’re all smiling, Emily’s arm around Bea’s waist.

I let them see me noticing the picture, then look back at both Emily and Campbell. “You both must really miss her. And Blanche, too.”

Emily frowns slightly, her fingers coming up to play with the little gold-and-pearl-inlay cross around her neck, and Campbell finishes the rest of her juice.