When she arrived the next night, Veronica had decided upon a combination of the two. Harry had been pacing the living room nervously with a beer while Trish made the dinner, and had envisioned all sorts of disasters for the evening. He was dressed up a little, without a blazer but with a tie, while Trish was wearing dark colors, a backless blouse and skirt that looked like it would have been a hit at a dinner party or a Superbowl get together. When she walked out of the bedroom, Harry's jaw had dropped as he saw what felt like a ressurection of what she looked like at some of the posher parties back in university, complete with immaculate hair tied back in a loose ponytail and subtle makeup that gave her an air of looking both natural and glamorous. When she dressed like that back then, he always felt a little giddier to have her at his side, and so it was a confusing moment to have her looking like this as he was about to introduce Veronica to her. Trish had looked at what he was wearing for a prolonged moment of appraisal, as if unsure if there was something that should be added, but after a while she just smiled, nodded her head and went to the kitchen to check up on the chicken.
When the doorbell rang, he almost spilled beer all over himself as he rushed to get it before Trish could, even though Trish didn't make a move to leave the kitchen. As he opened the door, he caught his breath. Veronica looked stunning, her maroon skirt and white blouse hanging loosely on her frame but still suggesting the curves underneath. As she smiled at him and stepped into the light, he saw that the blouse was actually a little translucent, and he could make out her figure and even the straps of her bra as she stood before him.
"So?" she asked. "Will this do?"
"You look great," he said nervously. He didn't know why it was important whether she looked good or not, but for some reason it was nice to see that she wasn't going to be outdone by his wife. He supposed it would make things easier. The way he'd envisioned it, Trish and Veronica would try to figure out exactly how his respective relationships with both of them would work, and Veronica would leave, and things would continue as they were or they wouldn't, but there was such a heightened energy to the moment that he couldn't help but be a little relieved that Veronica had shown up so exquisitely, as though he could say to his wife, "How could you blame me?"
"Well..." she said, looking around. "This is your house."
"Yeah," he said, shrugging, before taking another sip of beer.
"Aren't you going to kiss me hello?" she said, scrunching her mouth up into an amused smile, her dark eyes lit up playfully.
"Yeah," he laughed. "Well, to be honest, I wanted to wait until Trish came out so we could just go at it, right in front of her."
"Oh really?" she asked, biting her lip, smiling hard.
"Yup," he said. "I'm all packed, actually. We could do that and then run for our lives."
"Relax," Veronica said, patting him on the arm. "I think if your wife was going to be kill me she wouldn't have gone about it this way." Her hand lingered on his forearm a while, and her now familiar touch was enough for him to forget about the bizarre context of it all, and he leaned in to kiss her.
"It's good to see you," he said.
"Ditto," she said, and walked past him. She kept her shoes on, and it was a little exciting to see she was wearing her high heels into his place, since it added a little something to her strut that seemed almost sultry, and having her looking that way in his own living room made his stomach queasy.
"Harry?" came Trish's voice from the kitchen.
Veronica stopped in her tracks, and looked back at him and smiled, although he read a certain anxiety in her eyes. He swallowed hard, but sucked it up and walked out to escort Veronica to the kitchen, his arm around her waist.
They came around the corner, and Trish was standing there, a funny little apron and oven mitts adding a charming goofiness to her elegance, and when she turned to see them, she smiled widely, straightened herself up and removed the mitts, and said "Hello!" before walking forward to place her hands on Veronica's shoulders to give a friendly peck on the cheek, which Veronica returned awkwardly. "It's really nice to meet you," Trish said while their eyes were locked momentarily, before dropping her head in a slightly humble fashion to head back to the stove.
"It's nice to meet you too," Veronica said, putting her hands behind her back and getting up on her tiptoes in a fidgety moment. She inhaled deeply and added, "It smells wonderful."
"Oh this?" Trish asked. "Just an old chicken recipe. You don't mind wine, do you?"
"Not at all," Veronica said.
"That's good," Trish laughed, "because it's in the sauce. It hadn't even occured to me to ask Harry to check if that was okay..."
"It's fine," Veronica said, looking back at Harry and smiling. "It sounds delicious."
Harry had felt invisible for that moment, and had been content to be so, as he watched the sight of Veronica and his wife so close together. The emotions within him were so inexplicable, even more so than the time Trish had stopped by the office the day it all came out. That day felt like it was a hundred years ago now in the present situation, and each breath he took tickled its way up and down his throat at the thought of Trish and Veronica being so close together, so cordial even though the circumstances here were those that would have inspired anger amongst any other group of reasonable people.
"Well, good, I'm glad," Trish said, "Now shoo. Everything else aside, this is still my kitchen." She laughed heartily and waved them out into the den. "Maybe you should offer her something to drink?" she called after them as they made their way to the sofa, with Harry not sure if the mood was more jovial or nervous. He looked at Veronica expectantly.
"Vodka? Bourbon?" he asked.
"Ice water," Veronica said. "I need something to put these flames out."
"You're nervous too, huh," Harry asked.
