The Other Man in My Wife's Tent novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Breakfast

I grabbed my jeans with one hand and Freja's wrist with the other.

She shook her head and put a finger to her lips.

The zipper tugged again, and stopped.

Dean's boots stayed outside the flap while my heart hammered in my chest.

"Dean?" Lindsay called from Tent Five. "Come back in. You'll catch whatever they've got."

"I thought I heard someone I knew," he said.

"Everybody sounds like someone you know. It's a camp."

He laughed, a little uncertainly.

His boots went away.

Freja let her head drop against my chest and shook with silent, furious laughter.

"He knew my voice," she whispered. "Nine years, and he finally listens."

"He didn't see you."

"Not yet."

We dressed in the dark without speaking.

At dawn I lay awake and watched the nylon turn from black to gray.

Freja was awake too.

"Today," she said quietly.

"We agreed on the gala."

"We agreed on a plan that needed us to hide for six more weeks. He's already sniffing around my voice." She rolled onto her elbow. "I'm done waiting, Cal. I'm done being careful for a man who isn't."

I looked at her.

Her face was calm.

"Okay," I said. "What do we do?"

"We eat breakfast like everyone else."

The soup shelter at seven in the morning was full.

Forty people sat on benches and logs with steaming cups, wearing so many layers they looked like bears.

Lindsay and Dean sat at the long table near the stove, her head on his shoulder.

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