Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"Timothy, are you there?"

It was Sheila's voice.

Timothy rolled off Jessica, pulling the covers over her naked body.

He hadn't even bothered to close the bedroom door when he brought Jessica in, still flush from their passion.

Now footsteps echoed down the hallway, getting closer.

"Timothy?" Sheila called again, her voice right outside.

"I'm in the bedroom," he replied, trying to sound casual. "Wait for me in the living room."

"Oh, all right," Sheila answered, her footsteps retreating.

Timothy had only slipped off his jacket. Now, with deliberate composure, he tidied his clothes, shrugged his jacket back on, and left the room.

Jessica felt a wave of humiliation wash over her.

She was completely exposed, nothing but the tangled bedsheets to hide her shame, while Timothy walked away looking as dignified as ever.

Sheila still shared the same apartment-otherwise, why else would she barge in without

just done to Jessica, the thought

Timothy and Sheila,

Sheila home right in front of

you seen Jessica?" Sheila's voice drifted in from the other room. Jessica could hear them talking, and realized Sheila wouldn't be coming in

bear the mess Timothy had left her in. She needed to wash every trace of him

turned on the shower; the steady rush of water drowned out every sound

in the

the coffee table and

pretended not

for Jessica, but Sheila could play dumb—after all, she'd received her own gift first. Even

her usual act, all sweetness and concern

don't need to worry about me. There's nothing going on between us," Timothy replied quietly. He had no intention of

Sheila's face, but she forced a bright smile. "Since I got

had said she was just his aunt, but Jessica clearly didn't believe it. Maybe she was still upset about the whole thing-after all, she cared so much about Henry, and

lunch was a