Dancing with Time

Trouble in Paradise

Dedicated to: MadebyMaggie

"Trust is the glue of life. It is the most essential ingredient in effective communication. It's the foundational principle that holds all relationships." — Stephen R. Covey

Seven days. Seven days of unrelenting, suffocating tension clung to Juliet like a second skin, tightening its grip at work and home. Each day spent working with Lucas on the Jacobsen Project felt like an eternity. Ignoring Lucas was a simple directive, a mental hurdle she could (almost) manage. But Keith? Keith, the man who shared her life – and her bed. That was an entirely different beast. How does one erase the presence of a person woven into the fabric of their daily routine, their most intimate space?

Fear gnawed at her constantly, a cold knot twisting in her gut. Fear of Keith's disappointment if he discovered the truth. Fear that her silence would snowball, creating an avalanche of complications. Fear that even if the truth came out, there would be no words to justify her actions. What had seemed like a clever solution a week ago now felt like a self-dug prison.

At the office, her avoidance of Lucas was a delicate dance, a constant struggle to maintain a facade of normalcy. Mark, blissfully unaware, mistook her skittishness for pre-project jitters, offering platitudes and forced encouragement. But it wasn't his pep talks that fueled her. It was the silent need for Keith's unwavering faith, the knowledge that his confidence had propelled her through past triumphs. Juliet spent more time at the Jacobsen hotel, meticulously selecting furniture and lingering over fabric swatches, anything to avoid the inevitable encounters with Lucas. The only forced proximity came during Ray Jacobsen's gruff progress reviews, his booming voice starkly contrasting with the tense silence that hung heavy between her and her ex.

Ignoring Keith had become a cruel game. The past week had been a series of calculated escapes - leaving for work before his morning shower, dodging dinner invitations, and feigning illness to skip their weekend bike ride. Every averted glance, every forced smile, felt like a shard of ice lodged in her heart. Despite his usual stoicism, she knew he was picking up on the subtle shifts in her behavior, his perceptive grey eyes missing nothing. His unspoken questions hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the truth she was desperately trying to outrun. Anxiety clawed at her throat as she hurried towards the door, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Escape, for now, was the only option she could bear.

This morning, the air crackled with a different kind of tension. Dressed in a crisp blue and white checkered blouse tucked into a sunshine-yellow skirt, Juliet's carefully curled hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her usual confidence, however, was a flimsy mask. Clicking the clasp on her matching black purse, she called out for Paul, her voice laced with a barely concealed urgency. "I will have the car started," Paul declared.

The sound of Keith's booming voice, "That will not be necessary!" echoed through the house, shattering the peaceful silence of the morning. Juliet caught mid-stride, froze like a statue carved from ice. A silent prayer escaped her lips, a desperate plea for the earth to swallow her whole. Paul, sensing the storm brewing, beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen, his hurried departure a silent acknowledgment of Keith's foul mood.

Unnerved by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Juliet remained rooted to the spot. Then, unexpectedly, she felt the warmth of Keith's embrace as he enveloped her from behind.

"Morning, wife," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine despite its deceptive calmness. His grip on her waist tightened, a subtle pressure that spoke volumes more than any words. A lingering kiss grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, the warmth of his breath tickling her ear.