The Neighbors Read online

  “How did you know?”

  Tom cleared his throat. “You must have told me.”

  “I did not. I know I didn’t.” I laughed. “Come on. How did you know? Spill. Or else.”

  The grin in Tom’s voice was audible. “William Jefferson.” He let out a half snort. “Sounds like a future Prime Minister. Anyway, his phone number is...”

  My head spun as he reeled off the digits. I grabbed a pen from my bedside table, smoothed out a tissue and scribbled the digits, trying not to rip the Kleenex in the process. Then I stopped. I knew my brother, practical joker supreme, far too well.

  “Okay,” I said. “You got me.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice sounded strangely honest, and I pictured him scrunching up his face like the time I’d explained algebra to him. “I’m not kidding or anything.”

  “Yeah you are, you bastard of a little brother.” I laughed. “I bet that’s the number for a Chinese restaurant.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  I think my heart skipped an entire tune, let alone a beat. “A pizza place then? A strip joint? The police station?”

  “Nope. Nope. And nope again.”

  Pause.

  “So you’re not making this up?”

  He sighed loudly. “Negative, Shabby. I happen to be very resourceful. A friend of a friend of a friend was at Rowley’s, too. Apparently Liam said he met a cool girl there on New Year’s Eve, then lost her number. Been looking for her since.”

  “No way!”

  “But, thinking about it,” he chuckled, “that can’t be you, can it? He said a cool girl.”

  “Sod off!”

  Tom laughed. “Apparently he’s searching the entire area. Asking everybody if they know an Abby Sanders.” He sniffed. “Well, I know an Abby Sanders.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Cinderella, my darling,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “you shall go to the ball.”

  I wanted to stick my arms through the phone and hug him. “You’re the best, Tom.”

  “Anything for you, my dearest, most favorite sister ever.”

  “Hey!” I grinned. “I’m your only sister.”

  “Yeah, I know. Even though I asked for a different one every Christmas.”

  If we’d been in the same room I’d have punched him. Not hard, just hard enough.

  “So are you going to call him?” he said.

  “No!”

  “Why the hell not? After all that?”

  “I can’t. It’s not...it’s not...” I hesitated, before very quietly adding, “ladylike.”

  Tom burst out laughing. “Oh, come on. It’s nineteen ninety-two, not the fifties. And since when are you a lady?”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “He wouldn’t track you down if he wasn’t interested. Trust me.” I couldn’t deny the solidity of my brother’s reasoning. The little smarty-pants. “Anyway, it’s your call. No pun intended. So...and I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I’ll ask anyway. Are you coming over for dinner tonight?”

  “Uh, I don’t think so.”

  “Jeez, Abby, are you and Mum ever going to kiss and make up?”

  “Negative, Tommy. Is Sophia coming?”

  “Not sure.” Tom’s voice changed from happy to sad in an instant. “Haven’t spoken to her for three days.”

  “Again?” She was such a bitch. He deserved better.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Sophia’s a bitch. I deserve better.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” I lied. Sometimes our connection even freaked us out. “I, uh...”

  “Yeah, you were. Look, come over. Mum said she’d like to see you.”

  I snorted. “No, she didn’t. Speak to you later?”

  “Will do, sis. But put Liam out of his misery and call him, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I paused. “Tom?”

  “Yeah?” When I didn’t reply for a few seconds he said, “Love you, too, big sis.”

  As I dropped the phone to the floor and pulled the blankets over my head, I let out a scream and kicked my legs. Once partial dignity was restored I retrieved the phone, took a few deep breaths and dialed the number on the tissue. Being a lady was vastly overrated anyway.

  “Hello, this is Liam.” His voice sounded as delicious as a hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. I wanted to stay in bed, wrapped up under the blankets, and listen to him speak for hours. Then I decided I’d better say something before he rang off.

  “Hi, uh, it’s Abby.”

  “Abby? Not the Abby from New Year’s Eve?”

  I smiled. “Well, that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How many Abbys you kissed at Rowley’s.”

  He laughed. “One, promise. God, I’m so glad I found you.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to hide my smile, “technically, I found you.”

  “I would have called days ago, but I lost your number,” Liam said quickly. “And I’ve been cursing myself ever since. I’m such an idiot. A moronic idiot.” He cleared his throat and I grinned. “Anyway. Can I see you again? Today? For lunch? I can pick you up.”

  I whipped the blankets off and stood up so fast my head spun again. “Give me an hour.”

  NOW

  NANCY

  “THANKS AGAIN, NATE. Lovely to meet you, Sarah. Hope Abby’s okay. Night.” I closed the front door with a contented sigh and turned toward Liam, who stood behind me. I thought I saw a frown cross his face but as soon as my eyes met his, he smiled.

  I put my arms around him and squeezed, relishing how our bodies still fit together perfectly, despite being married for so long. Liam kissed the top of my head, and I couldn’t help noticing how he didn’t really hug me back. I decided he was probably exhausted from the move, so I squeezed harder to make up for it.

  “I have a feeling we’ll be very happy here,” I said.

  “Still no regrets about moving, then?” he said.

  “I already told you,” I said with a smile. “The most important thing is that I’m with you. Still, can you believe we’ve been here a day and we’ve already got such amazing neighbors?”

  “Yeah, great,” Liam said, with less enthusiasm than I’d expected as he extricated himself from my embrace. “Although Zac didn’t seem too impressed.”

  “Really? I thought he was quite taken with Sarah.”

  Liam laughed softly. “No, he wasn’t. He hardly talked to her.”

  “Pah. That’s his usual nonchalant way. But I know he liked her.”

  “Oh, boy,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. “You’re going to tell me it was your women’s intuition again, aren’t you?”

  I forced a laugh. “You know my track record. I’m never wrong.” He had no idea how desperately I wanted that to be true. I’d always been proud of my ability to pick up signals everybody else seemed oblivious to, but I was petrified I’d been wrong once, years ago. Only Liam would have been able to reassure me otherwise, and even imagining him not being able to do so made my palms clammy and my heart speed up. I pushed the thought back into a remote corner of my mind, willing it to keep quiet and hold still. “Anyway,” I said casually as I followed him down the hall, “what did you think of Abby?”

  He turned away with a shrug and picked up the remaining slice of pizza nobody had had the courage or inclination to polish off. “Shall I chuck this out?”

  “Here, put it in this for Zac. He’ll have it for breakfast.” I handed him a plastic container and wondered if I should let the Abby question go. Comparing myself to other women was an old habit I’d never been able to break. A bit like eating sweets, and singing in the shower, or having two sugars in my tea, even when I went on a diet, which seemed to be every other Monday. “So, what did you think of her?”

  He shrugged again. “She was
n’t here long enough for me to form an opinion.”

  “She’s pretty.” I kept my gaze on him to see if there was any kind of reaction but got nothing at all, which wasn’t overly surprising. I’d always said he’d make a killing at poker. Sometimes I wished I could crawl into his brain to find out what was really going on in there. Then again, it was probably better I didn’t. What if I found something I didn’t like?

  “Pretty, huh?” he said. “Did you think so?”

  “Well, not chocolate-box pretty, but very attractive. And she has a great figure.”

  He looked at me. “Far too skinny. But now you...you have a great figure.”

  His words were like aloe vera on a sunburn. “Yeah, and I bet I look fab after lugging all those boxes around.” I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes more at myself than at Liam because, while I continually craved his praise, believing it had never been my strong suit. Even after he’d told me, years ago, that doubting his compliments was akin to calling him a liar, I still had trouble accepting them.

  Liam smiled. “Honestly, love, you look great. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Nate’s eyes grew stalks when he first saw you outside.”

  “Stop it. You’re being crazy,” I said, even though I secretly agreed. I’d noticed Nate’s reaction, too. And I had to admit, only to myself of course, that I’d liked it, especially when I’d met Abby. She was the kind of woman who made people trip over their own two feet. The kind who needed five minutes in the morning to look gorgeous, when it took us lesser mortals an hour, and even then we never achieved the same impossible standard. Abby made me feel inferior just by breathing, so the fact that her husband had even glanced at me made my heart rate quicken. The fact that Liam had noticed it too made me practically want to burst.

  “You went a bit quiet when you came back with the beer,” I said. “I thought maybe Abby had made a huge impression on you.”

  What was wrong with me? I was basically forcing him to find her attractive, pushing him to admit something that would make me feel terrible as soon as he uttered it, but I really couldn’t help myself. I’d done it at school, too. Pointed out the prettiest girl to the boy I liked, then pretended not to be disappointed when he’d asked her on a date instead. But I’d known they’d want to be together, it was only a matter of time. Why bother putting myself through unnecessary heartache? And although I’d got the most handsome boy in the end, it wasn’t so much that I was surprised Liam had chosen me, it was the fact that he’d stayed. Even as he moved into his late forties, Liam was still a catch. He and Abby were comparable to a fine and expensive Château Lafite, whereas Nate and I, while perfectly okay really, were more of a reasonably priced Montepulciano.

  I realized Liam hadn’t answered, and I knew that was his way of signaling he had nothing more to say on the subject. It infuriated me sometimes, the way he decided—via his silence—when our conversations were over. Then again he’d told me a million times how he found me attractive. It really wasn’t his fault I never accepted it.

  “It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed,” he said. “Are you coming?”

  “Only if you’ll inaugurate our new bedroom with me.” I smiled as I cocked my head to one side and raised my eyebrows, images of our naked bodies pressed together flashing through my mind. “What do you say?”

  Liam shook his head. “Not tonight, love. I’m knackered.”

  “I’ll be up later then.” I tried to keep the clipped tone out of my voice, the one he’d accused me of using when he last refused me. He didn’t say no often, but whenever he did, it felt like a rejection—which it was, of course—but I always thought his reasons of being too tired or having to get up early were an excuse, and that in reality there was something wrong with me. I was getting fat, unattractive, or he was bored of me. Sex meant my husband still wanted me, desired me, loved me. Why did he have trouble understanding that?

  “Good night, then.” Liam turned away without kissing me.

  And as I stood there for a few seconds, watching him leave the kitchen, I suddenly had an awful sinking feeling that maybe this time, his refusal had nothing to do with me at all.

  NOW

  NATE

  BY THE TIME Sarah and I got home from Liam and Nancy’s, Abby was in bed, curled up like a cat, snoring gently. I backed out of the bedroom and plonked myself in front of the TV downstairs.

  “Night, Dad.” Sarah gave me a hug before vanishing upstairs, clutching her phone. Claire was probably on Snapchat standby, waiting to hear all about next door’s additions. I gave a laissez-faire shrug. My daughter would be lucky to get to sleep before dawn and would spend most of Sunday lounging around like I used to when I was her age.

  She’d seemed pretty comfortable after Abby left us at Liam and Nancy’s. She’d even told them about a school project she was working on—the most efficient way to recycle used tires, of all things. While I chatted with Nancy about the neighborhood, I heard Liam ask Sarah tons of questions about her project. Not only was he a good-looking bloke, even I had to admit that, but an intelligent and articulate one, too.

  I’d kind of wanted to dislike him. Actually I’d pegged him as a prat when I first saw him in the back of the van. Make that a pretentious prat. The way he’d taken off his jacket and flexed his muscles—he might as well have whipped out his bratwurst to mark his territory. But actually, he was okay. From what I’d seen, he had the makings of a good neighbor. I could even picture having a beer with him, kicking back and playing some pool. And I’d been the reigning champion at university, so at least I’d beat Muscle Man at something.

  I stretched out on the sofa, extended my arms and legs as far as I could, then yawned loudly. I had two episodes of my favorite zombie show to catch up on, something best done alone. Sarah had said it was lame, and the undead always freaked Abby out.

  Years ago, when we saw 28 Days Later (my pick, her nightmare), Abby had spent the entire time hiding behind a pillow. It surprised me all the more when she’d announced she was going to be tough and suggested World War Z for one of our anniversaries. Not as surprised as she’d been when those zombies looked like they were on speed. I swear she had an entire escape route planned from then on. If there was ever a zombie apocalypse, I’d survive providing I could keep up with Abby. Fat chance. My brains would be their first snack.

  After making sure the hero lived to fight another day, I had a brief shower and slipped between the cool sheets. I thought about making love to Abby but remembered her headache, so instead I gently kissed the nape of her neck. When she didn’t stir, sleep came quickly and soundly for me, too.

  Early light spilled into our room when I woke up Sunday morning. I groaned, realizing Abby was kneeling between my legs, her bare nipples softly brushing against the inside of my thighs. And I was harder than a cricket bat.

  “Shhh,” she whispered when I groaned again. “I want you.”

  “Uhhh,” was about all I could manage, and when I thought I was at the point of no return, she stopped, climbed on top and slid me inside her.

  “It’s my turn now.” She grabbed my hands and pulled them onto her breasts. I felt her fingers between her legs, rubbing and touching. It drove me crazy. I had no idea if she still had a sore head, and frankly right then I didn’t care.

  But she whispered, “Fuck me. Come on, baby, fuck me. Hard.”

  God knows how, but some of the blood got diverted from my dick to my face to the point where I felt my cheeks glow like a beacon. Now, I’m no prude, but Abby, well, I didn’t like fucking her. Yes, having sex with my wife was awesome. Better than beer, pool and England winning three World Cups in a row (I imagined). I’d heard some guys got tired of being with the same woman, but Abby still drove me crazy every single time. I’d taken care of her ever since I’d laid eyes on her, and fucking her seemed too...rough, uncaring, somehow.

  I thrust a little faster, and she drove hers
elf down onto me, eyes closed, back arched. It was savage; there was no tenderness at all. I felt like I could have been anybody, or that maybe I was surplus to Abby’s requirements. As I wondered even more what the hell she was doing, I almost started to go limp. When she climaxed and collapsed on top of me, I held her as she gasped quietly.

  “Did you come, too?” she whispered.

  “Of course,” I lied.

  She raised her head and looked at me for a second, then slid off me and went to the bathroom. I rolled over and, when she came back a few minutes later, pretended to be asleep.

  NOW

  NATE

  IT WAS JUST after six on Wednesday evening, and Abby and I lay on the floor. We hadn’t made it to the bed—deeming the extra few meters an unnecessary obstacle course, a waste of precious time. When I’d got home from work, she’d surprised me by walking down the stairs dressed only in emerald green, satiny underwear.

  I’d fleetingly wondered what had gotten into her, but then realized we could have sex for the second time in four days. Seeing as my performance hadn’t been great on Sunday morning, I stopped wondering and started doing.

  Afterward, I stretched my arms out, momentarily too exhausted to get up, exhaled deeply and pulled some clean towels from a plastic laundry basket barely within my reach. I covered Abby’s shoulders with the warm fabric. She shivered and raised her head from where it had been nestled on my chest.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling, “I just folded those.”

  My fingers traced the length of Abby’s back, and she sighed as she propped herself up on one elbow. I noticed the shadows under her eyes and realized she probably wasn’t sleeping well again. Before I could ask her what was going on, she said, “How was your day?”

  “Ugh,” I groaned, not wanting to spoil the afterglow with stories about the office.

  “That bad?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Nah,” I said. “Business as usual, you know? Got another deal done today. That’s four in less than a fortnight.”

  “Congrats, Nate,” she said and kissed my chest. “Fantastic.”