by Erin Zak
“Busy?” She raises her vodka soda, but before she drinks, she adds, “Too busy to be sure of yourself?”
Sigh. She’s right. I’m not making any sense. “Seems like maybe you’re too busy to be sure of yourself, too.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh?”
“Well, I complimented your beauty, and it sort of fell flat.”
She drinks another sip. “I mean, I’m married.”
“Oh, yes.”
“And you know nothing about me.”
“I know. Now you know a lot more about me.” I prop my arm on the back of the booth. We’re sitting close enough that if I were to reach out, I’d touch her hair. I want to so badly, but I don’t. Not yet. “Why are you having drinks with me if you’re married?” She blinks, and I finish with, “And please don’t say you really think this is only friendly.” She empties the rest of her drink before Diamond is delivering new ones. I silently curse her. It was going to start getting deep real quick.
“You two must be thirsty,” Diamond says in a light Southern drawl. “Also, these are on the house. Mitchell insists.”
I groan. “I can’t stand Mitchell, Di. He really doesn’t think he’s going to get anywhere with me, does he?”
Diamond laughs. “Dear, he’s given up on you. He’s interested in your friend here.” She leans down to Cecily. “Bless your heart.”
I gasp, and Cecily’s laughter joins Diamond’s. “Oh, no worries there. I’ve been chased by swifter men than him before. I guarantee it.”
Diamond places her hand on Cecily’s shoulder, smiling at her widely. “You just became my new favorite person. How long you here till, honey?”
“I leave Monday.”
“We’ve got time, then. We’ve got time.” Diamond looks at me, her hand still on Cecily’s shoulder. “You bring her by tomorrow evening. We’ll show her a good time.”
I laugh. “Lord give us strength.”
Diamond winks at both of us as she turns to head back to the bar, her ass shaking the entire way. She is adorable, and I really do love everything about her. I swear, my life wouldn’t be nearly as colorful without her.
“She’s a doll,” Cecily says while looking at me, and I find myself wishing I’d never met her, especially if she is going to keep looking at me with those eyes and smiling at me with that smile and touching me with that hand. “Where does she want you to bring me?”
“You really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“Stardust Gentlemen’s Club.” Her eyes widen. “She’s a stripper. And a very good one.”
“Oh.”
“Change your mind about her?”
“God, no.” She waves in front of her. “Not at all. I just…I’ve never been to a strip club.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” I shrug. “That is, if you don’t have plans tomorrow night.”
Her lips turn up in a small smile. “I’ll let you know.” She glances around the bar before her eyes land back on mine. “So where were we?”
Taking Cecily to a strip club will most definitely be an interesting evening. I’m pretty sure neither of us expects this night to bleed into the next night and so on and so forth. Things will end when we finish drinks, when we finish talking, when we go our separate ways. There’s no way she’ll want more, and there’s no way I should freely give more. And I need to get to the bottom of this before I let myself go much further. I don’t want anything with her. I’m still bruised and battered and not over the whole Willow situation. But this evening is turning out to be a good time. The gentle banter, the intense looks, the small touches. I’m enjoying myself, and it’s been a while since that happened.
I decide to ask a question I’m not sure she’ll answer, but I throw caution to the wind. “You were going to tell me about your husband.”
Cecily shakes her head slowly, as if she’s gathering the appropriate words or the ability to speak, I’m not sure which, but both are completely necessary. “Maybe we could take these to go?” She glances around. “Walk around?”
“Walk around?”
“Yes.”
I motion to my discarded shoes under the table. “I’m in heels.”
She smiles and raises her eyebrows. That look is going to be the death of me. “So am I, dear.”
Good point. “Okay.”
“It’s my first night in Vegas.” She slides out of the booth and walks to my side. She holds her hand out and motions for me to get up. “Come on. Take me somewhere.”
The little voice inside my head that would normally not shut up in a situation such as this is completely silent, so I grab my shoes and extend my hand. She pulls me out of the booth, and I follow her through the bar, down the stairs, barefoot and excited, confused and intrigued.
Cecily
I’m not really sure what has gotten into me, but the part of me that is so upset with Willow, with myself, with my entire life, has not said one word about spending an evening with a random beautiful woman. When Francesca asked about Luke, I decided then and there to stop fighting what was happening. I never do anything crazy.
Well, except for the affair, which apparently is over now?
I bite the inside of my cheek. The truth is, I don’t know where we are. And it’s very unfair of me to be walking the streets of Vegas with someone other than Willow. The space inside my heart reserved for her isn’t happy, but neither is the space reserved for Luke. The space reserved for myself, though? That tiny little area I’ve managed to carve out? That space is happy.
We’re standing outside the Bellagio fountains, and even though it’s too late for them to go off, I’m excited. Excited about the evening, the twists and turns it has taken but also excited about the idea of learning about someone else who seems genuine and interested in learning about me.
I give myself permission to enjoy life, enjoy what is happening in the moment. Rarely do I enjoy things. Rarely do I let myself be happy. And rarely do I let myself find peace in the noisiest of times.
She’s asking questions as we stroll down the wall of the fountain. Nothing crazy or out of the ordinary. I tell her about my family, about my mom and dad. I tell her about my sister, Brenda. It’s nice to recall memories of us when we were younger without a care in the world. It’s nice to smile, too. I’ve been smiling a lot since I met Francesca. I know it was only four or five hours ago, but gosh, it feels so lovely.
“So your husband?”
We lean against the stone wall around the fountain. People are walking behind us, talking, laughing, drunk, and I wish I was more inebriated. I don’t know how to speak about this without being an emotional wreck. “How hard would you push if I told you I really don’t want to talk about it?”
In my periphery, she shrugs, turns so she’s facing me, and moves my hair from my face. She doesn’t tuck it behind my ear. She simply moves it. I know in that moment how lost I’ve been the past four years of my life. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” Her tone is drenched in sincerity and kindness. “We barely know each other, after all.”
I look over at her, at the way the lights are sparkling off the water and reflecting everywhere, including her face. “If I told you I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, would you believe me?”
“Depends on what you mean.” She smiles. “If you mean, you think you no longer want to be married, then I’d probably believe you.”
Her answer makes me smile through the nerves. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” She runs a hand through her hair, and her T-shirt rises enough to expose the bottom of her abdominal muscles. My eyes are drawn to the contrast of her bare skin with the bright white material, and when I look back to her eyes, I see I’ve been busted. She purses her lips, licks them, then smiles. “Tell me what you’re alluding to, please.”
“Oh, so you’re the polite one now?”
“If you mean because I said please and am not undressing you with my eyes like you just were, yo
u’d only be half-correct.”
She is so good at this. I’m speechless. How do I even respond to that?
“Cecily?”
“Yes?”
“Talk to me.”
“I separated from my husband.” The words fall out of my mouth. “I’m going to leave him. I need to. It’s over. It has been for years.” I’m shocked. Why am I continuing to talk? “I’m also having an affair. Or…I was? I don’t know. Maybe it’s over. Who knows?” I look out over the water, at the lights, at the beauty of the Bellagio. “I have no idea why I’m telling you any of this.” I pull a sharp breath into my lungs and chuckle at my truth laid out so clearly for her to inspect.
“So…”
I glance over at Francesca, at the calm expression, at her gorgeous complexion, at the fullness of her lips, at her perfectly applied makeup, and I don’t know what I did to deserve her being the first person I told about my affair, but I am grateful. She is not shocked. She is not disgusted. She is perfect.
“You’re saying I kind of have a chance?”
A laugh flies out of me. I cover my mouth. “You are hilarious,” I say from behind my hand.
“What?” She shrugs, her arms held out to her sides. “I’m just asking. I feel like it’s a good thing for me to know.”
Her eyes are even more gorgeous when she’s laughing, and I’m not sure if it’s the sparkle of Vegas, or if it’s really how amazing her eyes are. “You do not have a chance.”
“Aww. Well, I guess I should leave then,” she says as she pushes off the wall and takes a step past me. I grab her arm to stop her. She glances at my hand wrapped around her forearm. We are standing way too close, and the heat radiating from her body is all I can feel. The Vegas air isn’t nearly hot enough to be why I’m sweating. Her eyes move finally to mine, and I swear, if I wasn’t in such a horrible predicament and if she wasn’t so perfect, I would have kissed her. I would have…but I didn’t. I can’t. I can’t be that person twice in one lifetime.
“Please,” I say softly. “Don’t.”
“You sure?” she asks and, God, her voice…it’s so seductive in that moment.
I nod. “For some insane reason. I’m surer than I have a right to be.”
“This is true.” Her left eyebrow arches, and I am melting inside. Why is she so beautiful? “Let’s go see the flowers.” She takes my hand. Our heels click on the pavement, and I wonder how much longer our feet can last. I also wonder how much longer my body can take this push and pull with a woman I know nothing about, yet want to know everything about at the same time.
Chapter Seven
Francesca
Life has a funny way of twisting and turning. Yesterday, I was fairly positive I would never survive my broken heart. The number of times I’ve written please, God, take me now in my journal is both dramatic and an accurate representation of how lost and scared I have been.
The good part about Vegas is, if I seek a distraction, I will find one. The best part about tonight is I was not seeking the distraction currently taking in the intricate floral displays and topiaries at the Bellagio atrium. Distractions usually rip me apart or put me back together. I’ve said more prayers tonight about Cecily being the one to put me back together than I care to admit. I don’t need a relationship. I’d take only a friendship with this woman. Anything to help me believe in myself again.
I lean against the railing of one of the exhibits and clear my throat. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” She is smiling now, and I am so enamored. She’s wholesome and beautiful.
“I was the other woman before…so I sort of understand.”
Her smile falls, as if she can sense how heartbreaking it is. “If it makes you feel any better, I, too, have been the other woman.”
“Really?” I’m shocked. “Care to elaborate, since you’re married.”
“Separated,” she corrects with a tilt of the head.
“Yes. My bad.” I smile and raise my hands. “So?”
She takes a deep breath, her chest rising, and my eyes are drawn to her cleavage. Her curves are very nice. Nice in a way I haven’t experienced before. My type is shorter than me and with a smaller frame than mine. I feel more in control that way. Willow was neither, shockingly, and it backfired. I’m really hoping for a different result this time.
Cecily pushes back from the railing and takes a few steps away. She’s walking backward in heels, and all I can think is how I want to fuck her. The thought is way too intense. I say a silent prayer, grateful that I’m not the one walking backward. I would have tripped from the thoughts of burying my face in her cleavage, between her thighs. Jesus.
“The woman I was having an affair with…” The way her voice trails off causes my hands to ache. She comes to a standstill, her hands clenched into fists, and I realize this is all too new for her to discuss without getting emotional.
“Cecily—”
“She cheated on me with someone else. Another woman.” Her hands unclench, and she turns. I am hot on her trail as she continues. “Who is probably thinner than me, prettier than me, more available than me.”
“So the cheater is mad she’s being cheated on?” I hear the words and hope they go over well.
She stops, turns to look at another floral exhibit, and smiles. “Irony at its finest, isn’t it?”
“Where would we be without irony?”
“The real irony is, she was still carrying on with me while she was seeing this other woman.”
I stare at her profile, the way her dress hugs her breasts, her stomach, her ass. She’s a vision in the atrium lighting, the gold tones of her hair coming out more than before. I look over her arms to where she’s gripping the top of the railing. I don’t know what it is. God? Satan? But some higher power urges me to touch her, so I place my hand on hers. I half expect her to tell me to stop, but I am pleasantly surprised when she relaxes into the touch. She spreads her fingers so mine can slide between hers. She squeezes gently, and the part of my heart that hasn’t beat in over a month begins to thump. “You realize being the other woman isn’t a bad thing, right?” The mystified look she gives me causes me to chuckle. “It means you’re essentially free.”
“Are you saying she was free because she was another woman?”
“Sort of?” I shrug. “Please don’t be upset with me for siding with her. All I’m saying is, if you were married and not leaving, it’s wrong to assume she would never stray.”
Her face softens.
“She was dumb to stray. For sure.”
A smile starts to tug at the corners of her mouth.
“I mean,” I step back, raising my chin, “who would ever stray from your fine ass?”
“Stop,” she says softly. She’s smiling, though, and I know I’ve scored some points. I’m still unsure which game we’re playing, so I have no idea how many, but points are on the board nonetheless.
There’s a line at the bar near the front of the casino at the Bellagio. I know the bartender, so he quickly grabs our order. Cecily asks for a water. The guys next to us pass us a water bottle, and I laugh at them. “It’s cool,” I say and wave it off.
“You two sure are beautiful,” the closest says, a slur to his voice. I can’t help my eye roll.
“She’s with me,” Cecily says.
I snap my head toward her. Her eyebrows are practically at her hairline.
“You two are together?” one of the guys asks with a laugh. “I find that very hard to believe.”
She snakes an arm around my waist. I know how to handle myself with crude, rude men, but in this moment, I decide to let her be the chivalrous one. “Yes, we’re together.”
“Can we watch?” the one farthest down the bar shouts, and his friend smacks him across the back of the head.
“Leave them alone,” the guy who smacked says before he looks at us and mouths an apology.
We both chuckle when our drinks arrive, and I pay. The bartender, Felix, winks at me when
he waves off the twenties. I relent but leave him a tip, and we take off with our water and my Jack and Diet Coke. I drink a couple sips before I stop and grab Cecily’s wrist to make sure she’s listening. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”
“What?” She takes a greedy drink from the water bottle.
I want so badly to replace the bottle with my lips. I cannot even begin to describe the attraction I am feeling. I know it’s partly alcohol induced, but the rest of it? Who knows? I don’t believe in fate, and while I know there’s a God, I doubt she’s up there doling out beautiful women to lick the wounds of us with broken hearts. I mean, if she is, then well done, God. I smile, hoping it’s not obvious where my mind is. “Come to my rescue.”
“Our rescue, you mean?”
I nod. “Yes, you’re right. I just meant—”
“Don’t,” she says. “You don’t need to…” She shrugs. “It was sort of nice, for half a minute, acting like you were mine.”
Her words cause my heart to flutter. I bite my bottom lip before I nod again. “Okay, then.” She follows as we take off in the direction of the nearest bathroom. Cecily has been asking for a break for the past twenty minutes, and I promised we’d do that before we went anywhere else. While she’s inside, I lean against the wall and check my texts.
One from Armando: Hermana, I may be liking this boy more than I should.
He’s with Max, who sent three texts in succession: You better still be with that woman. Followed by, I am so falling for your brother. Please don’t hate me. And the next, Willow was here looking for you.
And the last is from none other than Willow herself: I’m at Caesar’s. Where are you? Come to me?
I will not lie. Her text makes me think. A lot. But the pull inside, the pull that would have dropped Cecily like a bad habit and run toward Willow without any thought, is hardly there. I don’t know how to explain it other than to say there is nothing in me that would ever want to leave Cecily right now. I can’t imagine hurting another person like that, for one, but also, I don’t want to make Cecily feel as if she doesn’t matter.
