Chapter 18: The Dinner Party
The silence in the car on the drive home from Siobhan’s was a living thing, thick and humming. Aidan focused on the road, the rhythmic swipe of the wipers clearing the drizzle. Catriona sat with her hand on his knee, her thumb making slow, absent circles.“You okay?” she asked finally, her voice soft in the dashboard glow.
He considered the question.His body thrummed with a spent, heavy satisfaction. His mind was a scrambled mess of conflicting images: Siobhan’s ecstatic face, the familiar photo on the dresser, Catriona’s triumphant eyes. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “That was… intense.”
“It was perfect,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the seat.“Seeing you like that.Knowing she was feeling you, all of you. It was everything I wanted.”
Aidan glanced at her. The streetlights strobed across her face, highlighting a profound serenity.There was no jealousy, no regret.Only a deep, sated glow. He felt a surge of something then—not quite understanding, but a fierce protectiveness of this strange, wonderful woman and her secret heart.“Your rules worked,” he offered, a peace offering.
“Of course they worked,” she said with a tiny smile. “They were my rules.” She squeezed his knee.“Thank you.For trusting me.”
He covered her hand with his. That, at least, was simple.He did trust her.
A week later, the dinner party felt like a different world. Aidan stood in their own dining room, adjusting a candle centerpiece under Catriona’s exacting direction.“Left.A micron. There.” She stepped back, surveying the table.The mahogany gleamed under the flickering light. Crisp white linens, heavy silver, crystal glasses waiting to be filled.It was a stage, meticulously set.
“Why are we doing this again?” he asked, pulling at the collar of his navy shirt. It felt tighter than usual.“Because it’s Wednesday. Because I invited friends for dinner.” She floated over, straightening his collar herself.Her green eyes held that mischievous glint. “And because I want to see you sit across from them, knowing what you know. Seeing if they know you know.”
“That sentence made my head hurt.”
“Good.” She kissed his cheek, her lips cool.“It’s supposed to.”
The doorbell chimed.
The first to arrive were Chloe and her husband, Mark. Chloe was a willowy brunette with a laugh like wind chimes and a kindness that had always felt genuine. Two months ago, in a hotel room while Catriona watched from an armchair, that kindness had melted into desperate, sobbing pleas as Aidan took her from behind. He could still see the mascara smudged under her eyes when she’d finally caught her breath.“Aidan! You look well,” Mark boomed, clapping him on the shoulder.Mark was in finance, all positive energy and firm handshakes. Aidan shook his hand, the memory of his wife’s bare hips in his hands flashing with surreal clarity.
“Thanks, Mark.Can I get you a drink? Whiskey?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Siobhan and Andrew arrived next.Aidan’s gut tightened. Andrew was a quiet, thoughtful man, an architect. He’d helped Aidan sketch out plans for a shed last spring.Now, Aidan knew the exact sound his wife made when she came.
“Aidan,” Siobhan said, her voice bright but her eyes darting to his for a fraction of a second.There was a new intimacy there, a secret shared. She pecked Catriona on the cheek. “The table looks gorgeous.”
“All Cat’s doing,” Aidan said, handing Andrew a beer.“She’s got the touch,” Andrew agreed amiably.
The first part of the evening was a minefield of normalcy.Aidan moved through it mechanically. He discussed the market with Mark, the new municipal zoning laws with Andrew.He laughed at appropriate intervals. All the while, his mind kept offering up visceral, unbidden snapshots.
Passing the roast potatoes to Chloe, he remembered the taste of her skin, salty and sweet, as Catriona guided her head between his legs.
Listening to Siobhan describe a client’s difficult renovation, he saw the exact pattern of the grey percale sheets wrinkled beneath her, felt the warm gush of his own release inside her.He took a long swallow of wine. Under the table, Catriona’s hand found his thigh. Her touch was a brand, a calming anchor and a thrilling reminder all at once. She’d squeeze, subtly, whenever one of the women’s eyes lingered on him a beat too long.A secret signal. A shared joke only the three of them understood.“So, anything new with you two?” Mark asked, leaning back. “Any big plans?”
Catriona’s fingers pressed into Aidan’s leg. “We’ve been exploring new… dynamics,” she said, her tone light. “Trying to keep things fresh.”
Chloe took a sudden interest in her wine.Siobhan’s cheeks flushed pink.
“Good for you!” Mark said, oblivious.“Complacency is the death of marriage. Right, honey?”
“Absolutely,” Chloe murmured, not looking up.
Dessert was a flourless chocolate torte, dark and rich. As Catriona served, the candlelight danced over the faces around the table.Aidan felt a strange, detached pity for Mark and Andrew. They were good men.They loved their wives. They had no idea that the deepest, most primal experiences of their wives’ recent lives belonged to him, and that their shared secret was sitting at the head of the table, calmly slicing cake.The chatter drifted, softened by wine and sugar. Andrew was telling a long story about a permitting issue.Mark nodded along. Siobhan’s foot, under the table, brushed against Aidan’s ankle.It wasn’t an accident.He looked at her. She was listening to her husband, but her eyes slid to his, and for a second, it was just them in that sunlit bedroom again, sticky and spent.Catriona saw it. Her smile deepened.Then, Chloe’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, her polite smile vanishing.“Oh, no.The sitter’s dad had a fall. She has to leave.”
Mark frowned.“Now? It’s only nine-thirty.”
“She’s panicking. I’m so sorry, Cat, Aidan, we have to run.” Chloe stood, flustered.
“Of course, don’t worry at all,” Catriona said, rising with practiced grace. “Family first.”
There was a flurry of movement, grateful apologies, the fetching of coats.Siobhan and Andrew stood too. “We should probably head out as well,” Andrew said, checking his watch. “Early site visit tomorrow.”
At the door, the goodbyes were a jumble. Handshakes for the men, airy cheek-kisses for the women. But as Siobhan hugged Catriona, she whispered something only the two of them could hear. Catriona’s eyebrows raised slightly, then she gave a minute, almost imperceptible nod.The door closed, leaving a sudden, echoing quiet in the hallway. The scent of jasmine from the open window drifted in, mixing with the remains of wine and perfume.
Aidan started gathering glasses. “Well, that was—”
“They’re coming back,” Catriona interrupted, her back to him as she watched the taillights of Andrew’s car disappear down the street.“What?”
“Siobhan just told me.Andrew has his site visit. He’s leaving at five a.m. She’s going to tell him she’s staying at Chloe’s tonight to help her settle the kids after the sitter drama. Chloe is telling Mark she’s with Siobhan for a girls’ night in.” Catriona turned. Her eyes were dark pools in the low light, reflecting the candle flames still dancing on the table. “They’ll be back here in twenty minutes.”
Aidan froze, a dirty wineglass in each hand. The quiet house seemed to tilt on its axis. “Both of them?”
“Both of them.” Catriona walked toward him, took the glasses from his hands, and set them down on the hall table with a soft click.She traced the line of his jaw with a single, cool finger. “No rules tonight.Just you.And them. And me.”
The click of the glasses seemed to echo in the sudden stillness.Outside, a car engine faded into the distance. Somewhere in the house, a pipe settled with a faint groan. Aidan stood very still, his own heartbeat loud in his ears.He looked past Catriona, through the arched doorway to the dining room. The candles were beginning to gutter, casting long, dancing shadows over the abandoned plates, the crumpled napkins, the half-eaten torte.The stage was empty. But the next act was already written, and it was coming back up the walk.
He looked down at his wife’s face, alight with a fierce, beautiful anticipation. The coil in his stomach tightened, but it wasn’t anxiety anymore.It was a raw, hungry readiness.
He finally nodded, a single downward tilt of his chin.A acceptance.A commitment.
Catriona’s smile was a slow, triumphant bloom.She took his hand, her fingers threading through his with a possessive certainty.
“Let’s go blow out the candles,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “We won’t need them.”