It was supposed to be innocent. Just a quick visit to drop off a power drill for the neighbor. David had known Laura and her husband, Tom, for years. Barbecues. Holiday cards. Nothing unusual.
But that afternoon, Tom was upstairs napping. And Laura was wearing a robe—just a robe.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” she said, smiling as she poured a glass of wine.
David hesitated. “Tom around?”
She nodded. “Sleeping. He always naps after golf.”
They sat on the couch. Talked about the weather. About aging. About regrets.
And then—she touched his knee. Slowly. Deliberately.
His heart pounded. “Laura…”
She leaned in, her lips nearly brushing his. “He won’t wake up. And I’ve been thinking about this for years.”
He didn’t move.
She did.