by C. M. Albert
I whispered quietly in his ear, so softly I wasn’t sure he would hear me. “I’m sorry, Ry. I’m so sorry.”
His body racked against mine, and I knew I’d broken him.
I wrapped my arms around the barrel of his chest, sinking farther into him. “When you asked me if I’d slept with him—”
“Don’t,” he begged. “It’s been a long night.”
“I need you to know.”
“Do you really think I don’t?” he rasped. He pulled back so I could see the tears pooling in his eyes. Then he ran his hand over the front of my face, his fingertips resting on my lips.
“You asked me for the truth, so I need to give it to you. I swear to god, I’ve never lied to you before. Not once in our marriage.”
“But you did that day, didn’t you?”
I nodded, my breathing getting shallower with each inhalation. “We were alone together. Without you,” I cried out, my voice breaking. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
My body shook as I descended into a full anxiety attack. My body heaved, as if trying desperately to corral my splintered heart.
Ryan turned me around, so my back was to his chest. He wrapped me in his arms and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Livy,” he said, his voice thick with the emotion he wasn’t letting himself unpack yet so he could focus on me.
“The worst is behind us. Find something to focus on. Tell me what you see.”
He was helping me ground, to come down from my panic attack. “The loofah,” I said, my chest rising and falling as I took short, quick gasps of air.
“What do you smell?”
“You,” I said, resting my head against the hard muscles of his chest as I fought to stay present.
“What do you feel?”
“The wet fabric of your dress shirt against my skin.”
“What do you hear?”
“The water running through our old pipes. Your breath against my ear.”
He kissed it then, and the tenderness nearly broke me. I whimpered, but my breath was evening out. He put his fingers on my chin and turned my head so he could find my lips with his warm, sensual mouth.
His love crashed over me, and I turned into him. Into his kiss.
“What do you taste?”
“You,” I said. “Your love.”
He lifted me in his arms, turning off the water before leaving the shower, dripping wet. He grabbed one of our large, monogrammed towels and carried me to our bed. He stood me up, wrapping the gigantic body towel around me as he dried my skin. When I climbed into bed, he tucked the comforter around me and ran his hand over my wet hair, glancing at me with a love I was sure I didn’t deserve.
“I’m going to change, then get in bed with you. Is that okay?”
I nodded. “Sorry about your tux.”
“It’s just clothes, Liv.”
Ryan shrugged out of his dress shirt on his way to the bathroom. The muscles in his back flexed as he yanked the wet material from his skin. I longed to reach out and touch every ridge of his body, to familiarize myself with it again.
He lowered his pants over the round curve of his backside, strong and muscular from working out. Even at forty, his body was a work of art. I hated that I’d shut him down so many times over the past few years, at times turning our intimacy into a baby-making endeavor instead of a union of love.
When Ryan finally crawled into bed, he slid his large SU T-shirt over my head. I sunk back against the pillow, my heart ravaged from my admission. He still hadn’t addressed it, but I had to make sure we were going to be okay. That we could somehow get through this.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“I wish you’d just told me the truth that day.” He stared up at our ceiling as if invisible answers were written there. “Why didn’t you?”
He wouldn’t look at me, his jaw set hard as he waited for an answer.
“I don’t know. I was so upset and ashamed, and you were mad. Things were so tense between us after our fight. I just needed time to think. To process everything. I should’ve said that, but you kept pushing for an answer I wasn’t ready to give. I was scared, I guess. So, I panicked. It was stupid, but I couldn’t answer truthfully when I was still in shock myself.”
“Did you know you were going to sleep with him when you went over there that day?”
“No,” I answered.
“Have you always wanted to sleep with him alone? Without me?”
“No!” I cried out truthfully.
“I know this isn’t going to make sense to you, Ry. I didn’t mean to fall in love with him, but I did. I’m sorrier than you can ever know for that. But it was harder than you can imagine—to open my heart like that again. Let someone into my body that wasn’t you, or one of our babies. You asked me to be emotionally raw and vulnerable with you and Brighton. There was no way to do that with a closed heart.”
“I’m the first to admit I made a lot of mistakes, too, Liv. But I would never lie to you. I wish I could say it didn’t hurt so fucking bad. But it does. It gutted me. Then you just walked away. It felt like everything was over. That we were over.”
“Ryan, please. No.”
“How can I ever trust you again? Trust in what we have?”
“Because even though I love him, I don’t love him more than you. We have a history that Brighton and I will never have.”
“But what if he’s meant to be your future? Wouldn’t that be easier? Less complicated? You could start fresh with him—if that’s what you really wanted.”
“I don’t!” I insisted.
“Then what? Why did you have to sleep with him?”
I bit my lip, remembering back to that day. It was etched into my heart every bit as real as the letter A that woman had to wear in Ryan’s book. “I was so angry with you,” I admitted, my breath small with shame.
“For how you acted during our fight. For blowing up at me and hitting the damn door—breaking the glass like that. I was sad and emotionally drained. Brighton was there for me as a friend. We mostly talked, but then, I don’t know. I guess I had to figure out if it was Brighton I wanted, or if I just missed the three of us being together. I had to know what the intimacy meant for myself.”
“Do you want to leave me for him?”
“No.”
“What then, Liv? What are we supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you slept with him since then?”
“No,” I promised, shaking my head. “That’s the god’s honest truth. I will never, ever lie to you again, Ryan.”
“I wish I could believe you, but that’s going to take some time.”
I nodded, wishing he would look at me.
When he finally turned to face me, I couldn’t bear the pain reflected at me. He was holding so much inside. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die. I’d done that to him.
“If I could take it back, I would. Sleeping with him alone. Lying. All of it. That’s not me. You know me.”
“I thought I did.”
“You do. This isn’t fair. I never would have slept with him to begin with! You pushed the issue, Ryan. Even though we both had reservations.”
“But it didn’t stop you, did it?” he said ruthlessly. “Admit it, Liv. You wanted him all along.”
I took a deep breath, willing my emotions not to spin out into anxiety all over again.
“You once told me that sex wasn’t really about the sex. I had no idea what that even meant then. But I think I do now. My heart was broken for so long because of our miscarriages, and then losing Laelynn changed everything. I couldn’t feel anything for the longest time. I didn’t want to live, really. Not without them. But you didn’t give up on me. The intimacy that we felt with Brighton was an opening for us to love again, harder this time. To heal all the pain we’d held inside for so long. It’s hard to go through something like that with someone and not fall. To not feel. It was about so much more than just our bodies, Ryan,
and you know that.”
“Yeah, but what you two did—that was only about your bodies. And your own selfish needs. Did you once stop to think about me? Think about how it would gut me to know he was inside of you without me? One minute I think I understand how it could’ve happened. The next, I’m fucking wrecked by it.”
“You’re right. It was selfish. I don’t have any excuse to justify what happened. But it wasn’t just about our bodies. Maybe I wish it would’ve been, because then it wouldn’t be as complicated as it is now.”
“It’s complicated, all right.” He put his arm over his eyes and lay back again. He was so close, yet his heart was as distant as it’d ever been. I didn’t know how to make it right.
“Maybe we could see a couple’s therapist?”
“And say what, Liv? Are you going to talk about our threesome? You think a shrink has a playbook for how to deal with the repercussions of having an open marriage?”
“I do, actually. Dr. Paul has helped me a lot these past few weeks. Maybe we could see a different therapist and work on our communication. Especially because of what happened. We haven’t really processed everything. Don’t you miss him? At all?”
Ryan took a sharp inhalation but stayed quiet for the longest time. I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but then the faintest “yes” came.
“He misses you, too,” I said quietly. “He misses us. We promised him it wouldn’t change anything, but that’s exactly what happened. And he’s getting the short end of the stick because it’s easy to blame everything on him. To shut him out. But it’s not his fault. We asked him for this, Ryan. And just so you know, he doesn’t know what to do with any of his feelings either. And with him getting ready to sell the house . . . it’s just putting more stress on the situation because he feels like he’s about to lose us completely. And he loves us both, Ryan.”
“What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with all that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you wish the three of us were still sleeping together?”
“Maybe it’s best not to go down that path tonight. It’s been a long day and we’re both tired. Can we talk about that tomorrow?”
For once, he nodded instead of pushed. Then he wrapped me in his arms and kissed the top of my head. “I figured out how to share your body once, Liv. I don’t know if I can figure out how to share your heart.”
Within a few minutes, Ryan was asleep, and I lay staring at the ceiling, more confused than ever. This summer we’d opened Pandora’s box but had no clue what to do about it now. Did we shove everything back inside and act like it never happened? Try to hide the damn box, and go on with our lives? Or keep it wide open, giving in to a pleasure that both terrified and completed us all at once?
I didn’t have an answer. But all night long, my body chose the last option over and over again. I woke up the next morning sad to find it was all just a dream.
Chapter Four
Brighton
THE REST OF the week was a blur. Olivia finished staging the house and the backyard patio. It was one of the most beautiful homes I’d ever created, and I wasn’t ready to let it go. Maybe that was because it wasn’t just my creation this time. It was the marriage of mine and Olivia’s creativity on every wall, in every room, and in every detail. And it all worked together effortlessly—kind of like us.
It was Friday morning, and I was reviewing paperwork in the kitchen, getting ready for the open house. I was hopeful we’d have an offer over the weekend. After that, I had no clue what I was going to do. I had other projects on the horizon, but I longed for a break to process everything that happened this summer. Though, deep inside, I knew there was no break long enough to purge Olivia and Ryan from my system.
“The house looks amazing.”
I turned, surprised to see Ryan standing there.
“Thanks,” I said, leaning back to stretch.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Sure. Here?”
“Maybe out back?”
We headed to the backyard, sitting under the pergola. The hopeful vines were already climbing its sides, eager to see which would reach the top first. I wished I were going to be around long enough to find out.
“Look, I’m just gonna cut to the chase, okay? I figure we’ve been through too much to sit here and BS each other.”
That was an understatement. “I’d expect nothing less.”
He nodded but didn’t rush right into whatever was eating at him. I’d give him the space to work out whatever he needed to get off his chest.
“Liv and I talked.”
Oh. Shit.
The air was still and quiet around us. Ryan gripped the arm of his chair.
“Give me one reason not to deck you, Kerrington.”
“You have every right to.”
He looked at me, surprised.
“What? You’re not wrong. I deserve it,” I said.
“I asked just one thing of you.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Ryan.”
“Are you, though?”
I was quiet. Did I regret sleeping with Olivia? No. I didn’t. As much of a dick as that made me, I’d never regret being with her. “I’m sorry it hurt you.”
“At least we’re starting to be honest.”
“Look, I know it sounds contrite, but I don’t want our friendship to end just because Liv and I fucked up.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“God! You know what I mean.”
“Where did you fuck her?”
“I’m not—”
“If you want me to forgive you, I have to know, Kerrington. I don’t want any more goddamn secrets between any of us.”
I ran a hand over my face and sighed. “Fine. It was in the library.”
“In your house or mine?”
“Mine.”
Ryan nodded. “Show me.”
“What? No. You already know what happened. It’s just a room.”
“It’s not just a room, Kerrington. It’s where Olivia broke her vows to me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’re talking to me about fair?” he grunted. “So much for bro code.”
“Really, Ryan? This isn’t college.”
“I asked you not to sleep with her!”
“That was before you shared her with me,” I said quietly.
“Get up,” he growled.
I stood, squaring off with him. If he needed to hit me to feel better, so be it.
“Show me the goddamn room.”
“I don’t think you really want to see where—”
“You screwed my wife behind my back?”
I clenched my jaw, crossing my arms over my chest. “What does this prove? What good will it do to know?”
“I went to your library that day, Kerrington! You weren’t there. So, where the fuck were you?” he yelled. He shoved my chest, but not hard enough to move my body.
“Fine. Come on.”
I was done with this. I had an open house to get ready for. I led him up to the library, then opened the secret door. Ryan stood there with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight as I revealed the hidden room.
“You brought her up here so you could screw in private? You sure this wasn’t planned out all along?”
“No, you asshole. She was crying after your fight. You scared the shit out of her, losing control like that. She was shaken. So, I was trying to distract her—”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“By showing her the book I was holding aside for you, jerk.”
I walked into the room, my body aching for Olivia all over again. I gripped the stairs as I searched for the book. I finally found where Olivia had stashed it on one of the shelves. I hadn’t been back since that afternoon, and the visceral memory of being inside her flooded over me, dropping me to my knees emotionally. I could still smell a faint trace of her citrus perfume and hoped Ryan didn’t come any closer.
I stepped out
of the small room and shoved the book at Ryan. “My uncle had a lot of first-edition books. This was my favorite in high school. I thought you might’ve read it, too.”
He took The Razor’s Edge from my hands—I gave him no choice, slamming it against his chest.
“So, you went from grabbing a book for me to sliding inside my wife? How exactly does that happen?”
I pushed past Ryan and headed to the sofa across from the fireplace. He sat on the arm of one of the chairs and stared at me.
“Could you stop being so crude? It’s Olivia. I know you’re pissed at me, and you have every right to be. I can’t justify what happened. But she’s your wife. So, stop acting like it’s anything but the most important woman in your life. Treat her with the respect she deserves. You want to lash out at me? Fine. Take your best shot. But leave her out of this.”
“It takes two. Her guilt is written all over this.”
“She’s not a cheater, Ryan.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, and it was me who finally broke the silence. “I never had a brother, okay? I have four sisters. I have a lot of friends I see every day at work. But the last time I had a real friend was in college.” I shoved my hand through my hair, frustrated and uncomfortable. “You and I were friends first. We talked about a lot of personal shit while working on this house together, well before Olivia and I even met. Then we shared something so personal and intimate—something I couldn’t have done with anyone else. I don’t want this to mess everything up. It’s not just about Olivia. I don’t want to lose your friendship either, you know.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before sleeping with her behind my back.”
“Can’t you forgive me?” I asked. “Or is this what it’s always going to come to between us now?”
Ryan ran a hand over the book that was on his lap. “Salvation doesn’t come easy, Kerrington.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“How am I supposed to get over the fact that you slept with my wife?” he asked, pinning me with his dark eyes.
“I’d already slept with her, Ryan,” I quietly reminded him.
“With me!” he said, exasperated.
“I knew it was a bad idea. I told you it was.”
