As they tumbled up the stairs, Veronica felt a sharp stab of anxiety shoot up her spine and she realized what she was doing, was about to do.  As much as she hated her husband at times, she loved that she was a good wife, a good mother, and honorable.  This was pretty far from honorable, in anyone's book.  She got to the landing and turned around to face Jacob.  He had pulled off his pants in the kitchen, and was marching up the staircase with his erection saluting her.  Her panties had fallen off on the way, they were probably in the living room.  He had come so very close to penetrating her on the counter, and now there was nothing between them, nothing that could stop them, unless she spoke up.  He kneeled in front of her, and pushed up her dress, burying his face between her thighs and seeking out her clit with his tongue.  His soft golden brown beard stubble tickled her and she shreaked, but more in fear than in pleasure.  She pulled back, and he fell a bit forward, after her.  She turned to find the nearest bathroom, "I'll be right out". 

Staring in the mirror, hair dissheveled and a red mark on her neck where he had grazed too long, Veronica knew this could not happen, should not happen.  She would make it so.  This was a man she didn't know, didn't love, and he was not worth the jeopardy of betrayal.  She rinsed off her face, and came out, but Jacob was  not there.   She called out to him, going down the hallway toward the master bedroom, and could see the door open but no Jacob in sight.  She walked in. 

The bedroom was almost black, and she saw what she thought was reflections from a disco glitterball,  then her eyes adjusted to the darkness.  The ceiling was reflecting a light show, and it looked like a planetarium.  Constellations moved across the sky, and on the bed looking up was Jacob, completely naked, with his arms open.  She walked over to him, and sat on the edge of the bed. 

"I can't do this. I'm sorry for leading you on.  I can't do this."  He sat up and leaned in and started kissing her, trying to pull her onto the bed.  She pulled away and stood up.  

"Please, just lie here a moment with me," he asked.  She shook her head, 

"It just heightens the agony."  She smoothed the angora dress over her knees, and let out a huge sigh.  "I love my children, I can't do anything to hurt them.  Right now they need a father and a mother, even if their parents don't want to be married to each other."

"How can I make this better?" he asked, reaching a hand to her arm, and just holding her a moment.  It was everything in him to resist pulling her down on the bed, pushing up her skirt.  He knew if he was persistent enough he could wear her down, but he didn't want to.  Not this way.  He wanted her to come to him.  Again.  When she was free to come openly.

"You can't.  You can.  You can just... just... go on being the guy across the street, the mystery man, the fantasy guy."  Veronica played with the edge of her dress, and then turned to look at him.  He was lying back, looking at her with the eyes of an old soul.  She knew there was something very special here, and she knew that the best fucking in the world would not make it right, not right now.  Jacob lay back in silence a moment, and then slowly rolled off the other side of the bed, got up, and turned off the constellation machine.  He lit the bedside lamp, and the light illuminated the walls of frames and photos.  Veronica was surprised to see her High School Mascot in a picture, flanked by the marching band.  She got up close to see, there was a little sign underneath printed neatly, Mr. Sunshine.  She gasped.

"It's you! It was you, you sent me the note!"  She started feeling very sick and clammy and turned for the door.  Jacob had already put on some jeans again, and stood there shirtless between her and the exit.  

"Don't go, Veronica, not this way.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, that I knew who you were."  He stepped forward and she stepped back, stumbling on the carpet and falling onto the bed.  He rushed to help her, and she waved her arms at him.

"No, no, no, please, no!" she screamed out and he realized she was not there in the room with him, but somehow remembering something else.  

"Veronica, it's me, Jacob, it's safe.  You are safe."  Her eyes were half lidded, she was panting.  "I will never hurt you, ever.  It is my solemn vow."  He stood up, and held his hand out to assist her to her feet.  She was so beautiful to him, so rare and delicate and wild and extraordinary, he could not help but feel as if he was a knight pleading fealty.  

Veronica realized where she was, and that Jacob was not attacking her, and that she had her clothes on and her dignity intact.  They had not had sex, it had just come very close, and he was not pushing her into it, or even trying.  He was so unlike the other boys, the other men, she wasn't certain how to react.  She could see the restraint he was holding over himself, the shaking in his hands as he extended one to her.  She was overwhelmed by grief and joy and passion and sorrow all at once.  She burst.

Ten minutes of sobbing was met with a cup of warm tea, and her panties neatly folded on the tray by the cup.  He left them beside her on the bed, and said he'd see her downstairs when she was ready.  She looked around the room, and then out the window across the street to her mirror house.  The sun was still up, but the walk lights had come on, and she knew it would be soon that Steve and the children returned.  The brisket would be done, beef scented vapors filling the house.  Her family needed her to be there when they got home, beaming with love at them.  All of them.  Veronica dressed, and sipped the tea and went downstairs.   

Jacob sat in the living room on one of the Italian leather couches, it was a soft ivory with handwoven throws draped over the back and sides.  She saw that there were drawings on the wall behind him, sketches, of a nude woman with long dark hair, back to the viewer, eyes over the shoulder, lids cast down.  It could be her, it could be anyone.  She wanted to remain the fantasy woman to him, the present unopened, the mystery unsolved.  He was flipping through a magazine, there were many on the table.  Architecture, photography, scuba diving, astronomy.  He looked up and smiled at her, and she felt the ray of sunshine in her solar plexus.  One day, she thought to herself.  One day.