My Wife Is Missing(20)

“Did you know he was married when you got involved?” Natalie asked, worried that Audrey might pick up the quaver in her voice.

“No … no … not at first, but eventually, yeah, I found out. But by then I was in too deep. I’m not proud of myself. Not at all. I never thought of myself as the home-wrecker type.”

“His wife found out?”

Audrey paused, uncertain, it seemed, how to answer.

“No. Not yet. But there was talk of ending things. Divorce, all that.”

Natalie had an entire catalog of fantasies about what she’d do if she could confront Michael’s paramour. They ranged from the benign—a yelling fit, “He’s my man, back off!”—to the truly sinister, such as driving the other woman off a cliff, like something out of a movie. Of course there were no California-style cliffs in the Boston area for that fantasy to play out, but still, it was strangely satisfying to imagine the harlot’s car careening out of control, hear the crunch of metal as the vehicle broke through the guardrail, listen to the terrified screams as Michael’s lover plunged to her death on the rocky shore below. Never in all her imagining though did Natalie consider a scenario in which she’d confront a woman destroying another’s marriage in such close proximity.

“I know it’s awful, but it’s not like there weren’t problems at home before we got involved.”

“Right, but it’s hard to fix those problems when the focus is elsewhere.”

Audrey looked deeply embarrassed.

“I know … you’re right, and I feel sick about it. But you have to understand, the chemistry between us was instantaneous. It was like a magnetic pull. Honestly, it was overwhelming.”

“Where did you meet?”

Audrey paused. How to share, her eyes were saying.

“At the gym,” she finally confessed.

“Which gym?”

“Oakmont Athletic Club.”

“Our corporate gym?”

I was right, Natalie realized. Audrey does go to the gym just like everyone at Dynamic Media because Steve Z. provides it.

“It’s open to the public,” Audrey said, making it clear it wasn’t a work colleague with whom she’d started her liaison.

It’s also open to spouses of employees, Natalie thought as a tickle of apprehension slipped under her skin.

It was impossible not to picture cute little Audrey on the elliptical, her tight body like a superhero’s tucked into her Lycra workout outfit, catching Michael’s eye as he sweated alongside her.

What would be his opening line? she mused. Something innocuous maybe, on the cusp of being cheesy. “You have really good form,” he might say. Or, if they’d met on the weight floor, she could hear Michael counting his reps, one, two, three, until pert little Audrey walked by, then he’d up the numbers ridiculously: one thousand one, one thousand two … and then a little laugh, a playful look from her as she checked him over. Hot, she’d be thinking, because he was. Michael was an extremely good-looking man.

Natalie shook her head ever so slightly as if to purge the vision from her mind like a reset.

“So you met at the gym,” Natalie said, “and what? He just asked you out?”

“Something like that,” Audrey said, keeping it vague. “Skimpy clothes and sweat can be quite the aphrodisiac.”

Natalie forced out a smile.

“So what did you like about him?’

Audrey’s eyes lit with excitement.

“You mean besides the obvious?”

Natalie gave a slight shrug, hoping her discomfort wasn’t showing.

“There’s a lot to love. Brown hair, fit, trim … super attractive.”

Natalie resisted the urge to say that sounded like her husband, but the thought came out another way.

“What’s his name?”

A flash of discomfort settled on Natalie’s chest. She had no business asking. No business knowing, but the curiosity was like smog in her brain, clouding her better judgment. Audrey returned an uneasy laugh.

“Well, given the circumstances, I probably shouldn’t say.”

“Of course,” said Natalie. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Yes, you do.

“Well, let’s just call him … Chris, okay?”

Natalie smiled awkwardly.

Chris.

It took every bit of restraint Natalie could muster not to ask the question most prominent in her mind.

Is his first name Michael? As in Michael Christopher Hart. Natalie did not mention that Chris was her husband’s middle name—a name given to him in honor of his grandfather Christopher Anders Hart.

A cold tickle danced across the nape of Natalie’s neck.

“Okay, so Chris it is,” Natalie said, hoping she managed to maintain a neutral expression. “I’ve been to that gym, but no guy has ever tried to pick me up.”

Natalie tried for a light tone of voice, but thought she sounded bitter.

“Well, with Chris it was the other way around,” Audrey answered.

“You came onto him?”

“Sort of. I needed a spotter, and next thing you know we were working out together. We’d arrange it so our schedules aligned, and we became workout partners. One thing led to another, and, well … we went out on a date.”