The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Finnegan

There were firefighters on my fucking lawn.

My eyes moved up the building of my home, where a thin thread of smoke was still curling from the kitchen wing, heavy in the night air.

Victoria was on the sidewalk wrapped in a grey blanket, two paramedics crouched around her. Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders,and her mascara ran in long black lines down her face.

She cradled a picture frame against her chest. My brother’s face pressed against the blanket like she was shielding it from the smoke.

I crossed to the head firefighter. "What happened?"

"It was a kitchen fire, sir. We were able to contain it to the east wing, but the damage is significant though. We’ll assess the building some more tomorrow but I wouldn’t recommend anyone staying in the building tonight."

"Finn," Victoria sniffed behind me. "I didn’t mean to. I was making a casserole and I... I forgot it was in the oven. I went to lie down and when I woke up the smoke alarm..."

She pressed her lips together, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. The sight unnerved me for two reasons. Fifteen years of our marriage had been mostly Victoria trying to guilt trip me with her tears. The second reason was Victoria didn’t cook.

I had never once seen Victoria Wolfe set foot in a kitchen with any intention beyond locating where the wine was. She didn’t make casseroles, she barely even knew where the oven was.

"Get in the car," I muttered, before turning to the firefighters. "Please keep me informed."

"Of course sir,"

James held the door for Victoria to slide in the backseat, still clutching the photograph and the blanket. I got in beside her and the car pulled away from the smoke, the lights and the neighbors watching from their driveways.

"Why did you bother cooking?" I asked, turning to face her just in time to catch a smirk on the corner of her mouth. It disappeared once she noticed I was looking.

Cold rage moved through my veins as I realized. "You did it on purpose?"

Her head snapped around. "What?"

"You set it on purpose."

"Finnegan." She gasped, clutching the blanket around her. "That is....how could you even.... James," She turned toward the front seat. "James, did you hear what he just said to me?"

This was her usual reaction when I caught onto her games, Fortunately for James, he kept his eyes on the road. He knew better than to fucking interfere in our discussions. Immediately, I put up the partition.

"I can’t believe you." Her voice broke again but I could see through her theatrics. "My home just burned and you’re accusing me of... I could have died in there, Finn,"

"But, you didn’t," I spat. "And would you quit the melodrama, why the fuck did you burn the house down?"

Was Victoria going nuts?

She broke into a sob, turned back to the window, her shoulders shaking. I watched her for a moment, unable to believe what the hell I was seeing.

When did she become like this? Why would she burn down our house? There had to be some reason, some reason I couldn’t fathom now.

I got out at the next red light

"James." I held the door, peering in. "Take her to Mother’s house. Make sure she gets inside. I’ll be in touch."

She didn’t turn around until I closed the door and stood on the pavement, watching the car drive off. What had she needed badly enough to burn a room to find it? Or what was she trying to hide?

I hailed a cab and headed back to the building. The firefighters let me through with little argument and damn, the kitchen was burned badly. The walls were blackened, the ceiling partially collapsed over the island, the burnt smell sitting thick and heavy in the air.

I moved through it slowly, stepping over debris, opening the drawers that hadn’t been destroyed.

After roaming around the house trying to find a possible reason for why my wife in all her right senses would burn the house down on purpose, I left through the side entrance. James was back and drove me to the penthouse.

Once I got in, I dropped my jacket on the chair, poured two fingers of whiskey and downed it at a go. I didn’t fucking need this right now.

The launch was this Saturday and I needed it to go perfect as heaven. I couldn’t be worrying about why my damned wife had burnt down our home while trying to do that. Then Gayle said some nonsense about preparing a gift for my launch, that messed with my head too.

My phone sat on the counter. I picked it up, gripped it tight and placed it back down. My fingers itched again.

What if the restrictions for the press do not go well? What if the caterers messed up the orders or didn’t provide vegan options for the vegans and...fuck it!

I snatched the phone up again and pulled up my assistant’s number, dialing it.

"Mr Wolfe?" She sounded confused, her voice hoarse. Was she in bed? What was she wearing? "Is there anything you need?"

"The restrictions for the press, what are they? Can we go over them? I apologize for the late call,I am well aware it’s almost midnight-"

"It’s alright," She mumbled, that hoarse voice teasing my ears. "The arrangements to make sure the press is properly are..."

Why did she sound so familiar like that? The tension in my shoulders fizzled as I listened to her. dropped on the couch, reaching for my tie and yanking on it. I could listen to her all night.

"...Is that alright, sir?"

"It’s perfect," I murmured, closing my eyes briefly.

"Is there anything else I can help with?"

I closed my eyes, tilting my head back on the backrest of the couch. "What are the menu orders? Will the caterers make sure to get the vegan orders right? Half of Wolfe clients are vegans and it is important that this goes well,"

"Yes, I’ve informed the catering company several times but I’ll send them another reminder this night before I go back to sleep,"

Of course she would.

I asked another question, sleep finally wrapping around me. Faintly before I gave in to sleep,I heard her say.

"The launch will be perfect, Finn. I promise. You don’t have to worry so much about it."

I would love to hold her to that promise.

Or just to hold her at all.