Slip of the Tongue (Slip of the Tongue 1)

He doesn’t know how much I adore him? Does that mean I’ve failed as a partner? I don’t think so, because I don’t show my love the way he does. I give myself over to him in the kitchen and the bedroom. Those are my most intimate places, and that’s where he’s my king. I’ll make wh

atever food he wants, and I’ll fuck however he wants. Every time. I glance over my shoulder at the front door and back. Finn and I didn’t set a time, so maybe we can push the headshots back. “I’ll come with you to Brooklyn,” I say. “Would that help?”

“I’m not trying to guilt you into it,” he says. “You were right. It doesn’t make sense to cancel for a basketball game you won’t even enjoy.”

I slouch my shoulders. “I don’t get it. If you didn’t think I’d enjoy it, why’d you make a point to bring it up?”

We look at each other a few moments, and I think we’re both trying to understand the other person. The problem is, Nathan’s held my hand through a lot of this marriage. I’ve never been good at expressing my innermost thoughts to him, but he is good at that, and he shows me how to be better. Now, I feel lost without his guidance, as if I’m being tested but haven’t learned as much as I should’ve. When he sighs, I feel like I could do the same.

“I’m not doing a good job of explaining.” He checks his watch. “And I should head out, or they’ll cut me from the game.”

“What about Ginge?”

“I’ll take her quick.” He whistles, and Ginger gets up.

“All right. If you’re sure.” I take the door handle and look over at him as if there should be more to say. He concentrates on getting Ginger in her leash. “Have fun. Bye.”

I walk out. Finn’s place seems farther than usual, the hallway narrower, as if I’m moving in slow motion. I knock. Finn opens right away with an eager smile, and I’m inside before Nathan even leaves our apartment.

I accidentally kick over a large camera bag near the door. When I put it upright again, Finn steals a glance at my bare legs.

“We should go now,” he says. “There’s a chance of rain later.”

I think I hear footsteps in the hallway, the jingle of Ginger’s tags. “I might need a drink first. To loosen up.”

“No time. I don’t want to lose the light.”

I’d rather lose the light than run into Nathan with Finn. “Yes,” I tease him, “that would be a shame.”

He half-smiles at me. “I got that from the Photography 101 Manual. It’s under the chapter titled ‘Douche-y Things Photographers Say.’ Forgive me?”

“Sure.” I stall, in case Nathan is waiting for the elevator. Finn has his camera bag over his shoulder and his hand on the doorknob, but I’m peering into the living room. A box labeled Equipment is open on the floor. “Is this an old camera?”

“From college. I have a newer one, but I’m more comfortable with this one. Don’t worry, it still takes great photos.”

“I’m not worried.” He could tell me he’s using his cell phone. I wouldn’t know any better. “Did you study photography, or was it something you just kind of picked up?”

“I majored in it at NYU.”

I turn back to him. “Really?”

“I was serious about it. But like I told you, life got in the way.” Finn’s cheerful disposition is beginning to dim. “We should go,” he says, opening the door.

“Where to?” I ask when we’re getting on the elevator.

“Williamsburg.”

“Brooklyn,” I mutter under my breath. Another convert. “Great.”

“You look nice, by the way,” he says. “Stunning, really.”

The doors open. I shield my eyes against the light spilling into the small lobby. “Thank you.” My lipstick feels as thick as my wool coat. “I know you’re supposed to overdo it for the camera.”

“They’ll turn out nicely.” He holds the door open. “After you.”

We exit onto the sidewalk. Nathan and Ginger are on a small patch of grass in front of the building. Ginger whines when she sees me, pulling on her leash until Nathan introduces her to a tree trunk. She forgets all about me. I can’t think of anything new to say to him. I’d invite him again because I want him there, but he might think I’m expecting him to drop everything for me.

“We’ll get a cab to save time,” Finn says from the curb. I can’t tell if he’s pretending not to notice Nathan.

Nathan squints at me, at Finn, and a chill runs up my shins to my shoulders. He sticks his hand in his coat pocket. The collar is pulled up around his neck and makes his hair look almost black. If anyone’s going to speak up, it should be him. I already went out on a limb by inviting him and offering to change my plans. He made me promise to back off, to let him come to me.

“Sadie?” Finn asks, holding a taxi door open for me. “Coming?”

Nathan turns away. He might as well be a stranger.

I tighten the sash of my coat and get in the car.

FIFTEEN

The cab’s backseat TV blares a weather update. Finn was right—they’re predicting rain. I turn it off, and we ride to Brooklyn in silence. I insist on paying for the trip, but he won’t let me.

“I’ll add it to the bill,” he finally says the third time I shove cash at him. The taxi leaves us on a corner between two industrial buildings.

Finn slumps his camera bag on the sidewalk and unpacks it.

“We’re doing it here?” I ask. There’s a street sign, an overflowing garbage can, and a lot of chain-link fence.

“Around the corner,” he says. “This block is pretty quiet on the weekend, at least by New York standards. Not bad for a city with over eight million people.”

I wander down the sidewalk a little. There aren’t many people here for a reason. It’s ugly, gray slabs and bare trees. “I thought maybe we were going to a park or something,” I say.

“Maybe if this were an engagement shoot.” He’s right behind me, and I jump. “AVEC is edgy. Modern. A park would be too traditional.”

I sidestep a rotted Styrofoam container. “This is modern?”

He aims the camera at me but doesn’t take a picture. “Let me do my job. If you don’t like the pictures, we’ll go to a park.”

I sigh. “Deal.”

“Come.” He walks over to a pitted concrete wall tagged with graffiti. I edge toward him, making no secret of my hesitation. He takes my shoulders and positions me in front of it, facing the street. With a knuckle under my chin, he lifts my head, angling it an inch right, a millimeter left. His eyebrows are drawn with concentration. There’s nothing romantic about his touch, but no matter where my head goes, I can’t take my eyes off his face.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

“We haven’t done anything yet.”

He steps back. “Take off your coat.”

I slip it off, but there’s nowhere to put it. “I—”

“Ground. Toss it. Come on.”

Reluctantly, trying not to move my head, I heave it a few feet away so it’s out of the shot. I send my scarf along with it. That’s what dry cleaners are for, I suppose.

He’s already shooting, and I’m not even positioned yet. “Wait. Stop. What do you want me to do?”

“Just stand there. Don’t smile.”

Not smiling for a photo is harder than I realize. My face muscles twitch the more I try to keep still. I don’t know what the hell to do with my hands.

He lowers the camera. “Forget about the photo. Just look at me.”

I do. The sun is on top of us, and his eyes are stunningly green. “Good,” he says. “Just keep looking at me like that. Think about me.”

“Just a second.” I close my eyes and picture Finn the first time I saw him in the hallway, his white shirt, his sweat-dampened hair. I open my eyes again. Instead of modeling, I pretend I’m there to study him. To watch Finn in his element. He takes a picture and adjusts a few dials. I’m lost. I went years without a camera until I got a smartphone. Nathan’d cocked his head when I’d mentioned that on our third date, perplexed. Or was it our fourth? We’d been at a Mexican restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, two margaritas deep.

“Freeze,” Nathan said out of nowhere from across the small, intimate table.

“What—”

“Un-uh. Don’t move an inch. Just stay a

s you are.” He took my picture. “I want one to show my dad. He doesn’t believe you’re the most beautiful girl in Manhattan.”

“Nathan.” I rolled my eyes, secretly hoping he believed all the compliments he gave me. I would learn, over time, that he did. Every one.

I didn’t find out until months later I had a guacamole smear on my cheek. When I’m being snobby about something like thread counts or coffee beans, Nathan whips out that picture, and we double over with laughter.

“What were you just thinking about?” Finn asks.

“What?” I blink and beat my eyelids like a strobe. Reality creeps back in. “I don’t know,” I lie. “Nothing in particular. Why?”

“Try to go back to that place. You weren’t smiling, but you looked . . . happy. It was perfect.”

It’s too late. The moment has passed. Perfect. Is there such a thing? I never believed there was until I met Nathan. My childhood was definitely flawed. My parents missed my fifteenth birthday because they lost track of time at a casino. As I blew out the candle on the cupcake my brother brought over, I wished for new parents. Perfect ones. It wasn’t the only time I made that wish.

“I’m just following your direction,” I tell Finn.

“Then you’re a natural.” He comes up and hands me the camera. On the playback screen, my eyes are slightly narrowed, my lips slack. I’m rosy-cheeked from the cold. He picks up my coat and pulls it around my shoulders. “Let’s move. This shade of gray is washing you out a little.”

I follow him, carefully cradling his machinery. I’m not sure if I like the photo. There’s too much emotion for it to be professional. I decide not to point that out just yet.

He stops in front of a red-brick wall. “This’ll work,” he says. “How do you feel?”

My breath fogs, but I’m not shivering. “Good.”

He rubs his hands up and down my biceps before kneading my shoulders. The strength in his long fingers is undeniable, even through the wool of my coat. Again, there’s nothing sexual about it, but my body warms, and not just from his hands. It’s nice to be worried about. Taken care of, even if it only lasts a couple seconds.