The Wife of Reilly by Jennifer Coburn Page A

would go back to normal. A moth in the darkness without a flicker of light anywhere.
    “Hey, Malone,” an adorably sleepy voice interrupted. “What’s on the agenda for you today?”
    I’m being dismissed.
    “I’m just going to pick up some t-shirts and hang out on campus for a few hours,” I said casually. “What about you? Anything exciting planned?”
    He stretched his body, yawned and smiled. “Nothing I can’t blow off to hang with you.”
    “Okay,” I said too quickly.
    “You know what I’m in the mood for right now?”
    Me?!
    He reached his arm around my waist and pulled me closer toward him. “You. A shower. Then a sandwich at Zingerman’s. Let me see if I remember. Pat and Dick’s Honeymooner. Number 27. Extra honey mustard, right?”
    I was blown away. Fourteen years and he still remembered my sandwich.
    “Yeah, hey, good call.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smile.
    Matt and I stopped at Ulrich’s, the campus bookstore, and bought Michigan t-shirts and sweatshirts. I picked up a pair of boxer shorts and held them up. “See, I could have just bought you these and we would’ve been even,” I teased.
    He smiled and raised his eyebrows. Then he looked at his watch.
    “Not on your life,” I laughed. “It’s broad daylight.”
    “Like that’s ever stopped you before,” he said.
    I smiled, a bit embarrassed. Matt was referring to the time we drove to his house while his parents were out of town for the weekend. We had sex about a dozen times in a twenty-four-hour period. Twice in his bed. Once in his parents’ bed. Twice in their shower. Once in the kitchen. Once on the staircase directly under a framed painting of Jesus with a twisted palm beneath it. Three times in the family room. Once more in his bed. Then on the drive back to Ann Arbor, we pulled over in the middle of the afternoon and had hair-pulling drunken sailor sex on the periphery of a cow farm.
    Fourteen years later, we were together again, holding hands as we crossed the street of our old campus. Matt looked at the arch of the West Engineering Building. “I was done for the night we kissed here. Remember that, Malone?”
    Smooth and calm, Malone. You can do this.
    “Oh yeah,” I faked recalling. “I do remember that.”
    Good girl.
    “Malone. Prudence,” he stopped. “This is gonna sound weird, but this weekend, it was like, you know, the best.”
    Go on.
    “I’m not usually into fate, but running into you this weekend, I don’t think it was a mistake, you know? I let you go once and this weekend was a wake-up call, like, look you dumb fuck, here’s a second chance, don’t drop the ball, man. You know what I’m saying?”
    “God, yes” escaped.
    He put his hands straight into his pockets, which made his shoulders rise toward his ears, creating an impish little-boy look. I must take mental photographs for my hot sex scrapbook.
    “I guess what I’m trying to say is this.” He paused. “Malone, the first time our timing was off, you know? We were young, we were both headed to different coasts, but I loved you, and” — he paused to gauge my reaction to his proclamation — “and, I guess what I’m really trying to get at here is, I still love you and I don’t want things to end between us here.”
    You don’t? If you think we had bad timing the first go-around, you have no idea what we’re up against now.
    Matt got down on his knee right there on the sidewalk, and smiled at me tentatively, not his usual cocky grin. “Prudence Malone, will you marry me?”
    Mmmmmmmarry you? Did you just say you want me to marry you?
    “Okay,” slipped out. “Yes, yes Matt, I will marry you,” I smiled.
    Just as soon as I figure out what to do with my not-so-dead husband Reilly.

Chapter 6
    Cindy was supposed to leave early Sunday afternoon, so I was surprised to find her waiting for me in Evie’s hotel room. It was clear the moment I walked in that I was in trouble. Cindy tapped a small pad of paper on the