The Bad Boy Next Door

Jo glared at the clock, cursing Pete for being late. He was should've been home two hours ago, but he wasn't-meaning she'd spent two hours at home that she could've spent with Frank.

"Stupid late Pete," Jo muttered under her breath, flipping through the channels. She sighed in exasperation, shutting the television off. She wasn't waiting up anymore. She was tired, and it wasn't like she really wanted to see Pete when he got home anyway.

Jo froze as that thought made its way through her brain. Since when had she not wanted to see her husband? Since she'd started spending every moment Pete was gone with Frank, that was when. Jo felt the guilt returning. Pete had always been a good husband. He didn't deserve her not wanting to be around him just because she'd chosen to start an illicit affair with her neighbor.

Jo went into the bedroom and changed into her nightclothes. She looked at herself in the mirror, not sure of what she saw. She'd spent the past few years defining herself through Pete, becoming completely immersed in the identity of his wife. But when she was in Frank, her thoughts of Pete drifted away, and she became something else entirely. It scared her, the thought of losing the stable life she'd let Pete build for her, letting herself take whatever it was Frank was offering when he looked into her eyes.

Was it love? Jo's stomach flipped at the thought, and she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. She couldn't love Frank. She'd sworn to love only Pete, for the rest of her life. And Frank couldn't possibly love her. It was just a fling to both of them. Hot now, but it would burn itself out eventually. She tried to ignore how badly the thought of no longer being with Frank hurt.

"No," Jo said to her reflection. "Love doesn't even enter into it."

Jo climbed into the bed, closing her eyes and dreaming that she could still feel Frank's arms around her.