I didn't understand it at first—why, after a year of marriage, Leona just upped and left. Did she find out about Jane? My sweet, fiery Jane. Unlike her stiff, lifeless stepsister, Jane was a passionate lover, a spark that set the sheets on fire every time we were together.
Being with her was a thrill, the ultimate taboo: my sister-in-law. Knowing it was wrong only made it feel more right. With Jane, there was no hesitation, no awkward fumbling. She gave herself to me completely, eagerly. Not like Leona, who lay there like a plank, cold and uninspired. She loved me—I don't doubt that—but there wasn't a single passionate bone in her body.
I'll admit it: my eyes wandered because of her dullness. But that doesn't mean I ever stopped loving her in my own way. She's mine. Always has been, always will be. She doesn't get to walk away from that.