by Lucia Black
As I laid there thinking about the three of us, I heard Cal quietly enter the bedroom. I watched him tiptoe through the dark room, his jacket slung over his arm. He bumped into the chest of drawers near the closet, shaking the vase of flowers on top.
“Damnit,” he muttered under his breath. He caught the lilies before they toppled over.
“I’m awake,” I said. I rolled over and twisted on the lamp on my nightstand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tossed his suit jacket on the chaise lounge and loosened the tie around his neck and started to undress.
“It’s fine. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet. I just got into bed.” I sat up and pooled the covers around my waist. My cami top was somewhat see-through. It was so comfortable, but my dark nipples peaked through the sheer white fabric with ease.
He blinked at me for a couple of seconds and cocked an eyebrow as he took in my breasts. He climbed on the bed. “I’m so sorry I was late,” he said. “I just can’t get out of there sometimes. There is so much to do.”
He leaned in to kiss me, but I didn’t want to send him mixed signals. I kissed him back gently, but I put my hand on his chest to keep a barrier between us. “I understand.”
“Something on your mind?” he asked, pulling back, and sitting on the bed.
Now was my chance. He opened the door, and I was going to walk in. It wasn’t like I was having issues with my husband and could freely discuss them with my mom. Or Jolene. Or Hannah. I couldn’t tell anyone. And the fact that Preston and Cal spent all day together just made it worse. “A little bit, yeah. I’m kind of going crazy here.”
“Tessa, I’m really sorry. But you know this is how life is. Of course, I want to be with you, but I can’t promise things will settle down.”
“Oh, I know. It just gets lonely sometimes,” I said. “Speaking of . . . work—if that’s what we call being the president elect—how will our relationship work when you and Preston are fully in the White House?” I shifted away from him a couple of inches and pulled the covers up higher over my body.
“Well, we will actually be together at the White House, for one. I’m not saying it will be like the campaign trail, but it helps to be in the same location. And you’ll travel with me as often as you want. You’ll have your own set of responsibilities and engagements to keep you busy as well. I think you have meetings that start next week, correct?”
“And what about Preston?” I asked. “How will he be with us?”
Cal’s gaze went from buttery smooth to a steel wall in no time flat. He shifted on the bed and crossed his legs under his body like he was getting ready to meditate.
“Preston will be with us. He’s the vice president. We have different travel schedules and different responsibilities, but of course, he’ll be around.”
He was deflecting, acting like I wasn’t talking about anything more.
“Cal,” I sighed. “Don’t do this. You know what I mean.” I had to keep my temper in check. If I got angry or overreacted, I’d only be proving his point that this couldn’t work. I ran my hand over the silky-smooth sheets in my lap and tried again. “What about our relationship?”
“Tessa, I . . .”—Cal ran a hand through his ever more peppery brown hair—“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I know the other night was . . .” he smiled as if he was remembering it, “. . . really good. But once I’m president, I don’t know if we can do that anymore.”
My blood thrashed in my ears. He couldn’t keep dangling the idea of this relationship in front of me and then taking it away. I couldn’t be so close to everything I wanted and then not even have a shot at it.
And even more than that, Preston wanted this too.
“Are you backing out?” My voice came out in a whisper. I was on the verge of tears. If he wanted to back out, and he knew I wanted to be with Preston, what would that mean for our marriage?
I waited for an answer the Cal didn’t give.
“Cal?” If he thought I was letting it go, he was dead wrong.
“I have a few concerns,” he said eventually.
“Well, so I do.” I had a lot actually. “But that’s why I want to talk about this. We can work through any issues that might come up. For example, I’m worried about Libby. Kids have to be included in things like this. We should probably talk about how to handle that.”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Cal said as he laid back on the bed, propped up on the pillows. “Preston and I have already discussed it.”
I threw the covers off and climbed off the bed. Out of the bed and in my tank top and underwear, I was cold, and my bare feet longed for the warmth of the blankets, but I had my temper to keep me warm.
“Shouldn’t that have been a conversation for all three of us?”
“Why are you getting out of bed?” Cal rolled to his side and extended his long and strong arm to me.
“Because you’re already leaving me out of my own relationship.” I balled my hands into fists and planted them on my hips. Maybe he was right. Maybe it wouldn’t work out.
“Tessa, we made arrangements. I just want you to be happy. Out of everything, I want to be with you, and I want you to be happy.” He shrugged and then splayed his hands as if to say he wasn’t hiding anything.
My anger cooled. “That’s all I want to. But you can’t have a relationship talk without one of the people in the relationship.”
“But we did talk about this,” he interjected. “I know you want kids, so we’ve come to an agreement.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, completely confused. An agreement? With Preston? I tried to reason through what he was saying. “You know I want kids, so you made an agreement with Preston?”
“Yes.” Just that one single word told me he was getting frustrated and his dominate side was coming out. Calvin James didn’t like being questioned and I was doing that a lot lately.
“What kind of agreement? What are you talking about?” I reached for my terrycloth robe splayed across the footstool at the end of the bed and quickly threw it on. I was standing in my underwear. I didn’t feel like we could have a serious conversation if I was standing around uncovered like that.
“We”—Cal cleared his throat, either stalling for the right words or knowing what he was about to say wasn’t right—“Preston and I agreed that when you’re ready to be off the pill, he can father your children.”
I heard my heart thundering in my chest. It was as though all sounds had dissipated and white noise was the only thing I could hear. I could feel my pulse in my temples, and a flood of red-hot anger coursing through me.
“What did you just say?” I whispered.
“He’d be more like an uncle to the children. They’d be our kids. We’d be the parents. We talked about this before we went on your birthday trip to the Bahamas.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? I was talking about Libby needing to understand that some sort of relationship was happening between Preston and us. Like finding a family therapist to work with us. That’s what I was talking about. You’re talking about . . . about . . . what the fuck, Cal?” I yelled.
I felt my body shaking as I stood there staring at him. How could he?
“You’re upset?” he asked.
“That is the understatement of the year. I’m more than fucking upset, Cal. You and Preston decided what I’m going to do with my body and didn’t even bother to fucking run it by me? Who the hell are you to make those decisions for me?”
I was yelling, I knew that. I didn’t care if the neighbors heard. I didn’t care if Secret Service heard. I was seething, and he was going to hear about it.
“Tessa,” Cal said as he climbed out of bed. “You said yourself that love Preston, and you said you wanted to be a mother. I don’t understand why you’re upset. You’ve already had sex with him multiple times.”
“This isn’t about sex, you asshole. This is about you pimping out my fucking uterus. You and your desire to make agreement
s. You DO NOT make agreements that include me, or my body, without my consent. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“That’s not what I was trying to do,” he said slowly, trying to speak to me as calmly as he could. “I was only trying to give you want you wanted.” His gaze wavered as I glowered at him. It didn’t matter what words came out of his mouth; he knew he fucked up. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.
“If or when or how I want to get pregnant is not up to you or Preston or anyone to decide. It’s my body, and it would be my baby. Or do I even get to be the mother? Do you want to tell me what kind of birth control I can use while you’re at it? Maybe tell me how I should give birth?”
“Dammit, Tessa, of course not.” Angry Cal was coming out and honestly, it was a relief. I needed the fight. If he felt strongly about it, that meant somewhere in there he had some feelings.
“Then why would Preston be an uncle? Hm? Kids have two dads all the time. Mine wouldn’t be any different.”
“Because a poly relationship won’t last,” he blurted out before he could think better of it. My face fell and I lost my breath. “They’re too complicated. And if I want to do what’s best for you and for a child, then that means having two dads and then one suddenly going away won’t be it.”
“That is not what we talked about.” I turned to leave, dragging a blanket from the bed behind me as I did. I couldn’t sleep with him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t be anywhere near him.
“Tessa. Wait. Just tell me you’re okay.” The pain that colored his voice was almost enough to make me turn around, but I was in pain too.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t use the girl line of ‘I’m fine’ when you’re clearly not.”
I turned around. “Of course, I’m not fine. When I say I’m fine, it’s a much nicer way of saying I want you to fuck off and leave me alone. So, if you don’t mind, I’m fine and I’m going to sleep somewhere you aren’t.”
Chapter 16
I made sure to lock the door to the guest room when I went to bed. I was seconds away from throwing something at his head. It was safer this way.
I didn’t care if he was going to be the President of the United States. I didn’t care he was going to be the leader of the free world. I didn’t care how dominating he was. My body was my body and no one, my husband included, was going to tell me what to do with it.
I heard getting ready in the wee hours of the morning. I laid in the guest bed, in the dark room, listening to him get his things together. Cal knocked lightly on my door, but I pretended to sleep. I could hear his heavy sigh when the seconds ticked by and I didn’t answer. I heard him say softly that he loved me, then he left.
I could only see snippets of the situation from his perspective. He knew children would make me happy, and he knew that he couldn’t give them to me. I could understand that Preston fathering my children made sense. I wasn’t against that part of it.
It was that I wasn’t consulted that enraged me. It was that Preston wasn’t allowed to be the father of his own child again that irked me. It was that decisions were being made for me, whether or not I wanted them. Again. After all, I was married to Cal because I was told to.
After I had some time to cool off, I went to Preston’s house for my near-daily visit to see Libby and Jolene. We were all transplants, really. Seeing Libby always made my day, and knowing she was okay meant everyone could be okay. But another benefit was that Jolene and I had become fast friends. With the circumstances, it was almost impossible not to, but I liked to think we would be friends in any situation. Coming from me who rarely had friends and liked to keep to myself, she had improved my life in ways I didn’t think she understood. And I didn’t know how to really convey it either.
Libby might have served as the glue that bonded Jolene and me together, but our relationship became its own thing.
Which was exactly why I needed to talk to Jolene and get some of her no-nonsense perspective on my situation.
Or at least try to.
I couldn’t exactly talk to anyone about the three-way relationship, but I needed to talk to someone, or I was going to crumble. I had a theory about why women live longer than men. It’s because women talk a lot about feelings. We may not always understand those feelings, but we could go on about it for days. If I kept my rage and anger on the inside, it was going to eat me alive, and I couldn’t very well let that happen.
I got to the house earlier than I usually did, but all I was doing was sitting in the apartment and stewing. I knocked on the front door and prayed Jolene wouldn’t mind my coming so early.
“Tessa,” she said surprised. “What’re you doing here this early?”
“Thank God you’re up.”
“Of course, I’m up. Preston left early this morning and I always fix him breakfast before he leaves.”
“You what?”
Jolene stepped aside to let me in, and I hurried past her as if she were going to change her mind and ask me to leave.
“I do all the cooking. Not just for Libby. I figure she’ll eventually be old enough to not need full-time care, but if I make myself as useful as possible, he’ll be more likely to keep me around.” She half shrugged, and half looked pretty pleased with herself.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that anymore. You’ll be taken care of for life. I promise.”
Jolene smiled as if she didn’t fully believe me, but she really wanted to. She led the way to the back of the house where the kitchen was. The whole room was filled with items she’d had shipped from Annabelle’s house in Tennessee. I had a feeling all the cabinets were filled now too.
I sat on a high top stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen while Jolene poured us both a steaming mug of coffee.
“So,” she said after carefully stirring in a splash of hazelnut creamer. “What’s up?”
“How did you know I liked hazelnut creamer?” I asked, not recalling a time I had told her.
She shrugged. “Preston mentioned it.”
Jolene was wearing a pair of black leggings, knee-high boots, and a stylish oversized heather gray sweater. She was looking like she belonged on the east coast more and more every day.
“Where’s Libby?” I asked, deflecting her original question. I couldn’t wait to talk to Jolene, but then the second I was there I chickened out. There was no way I could talk about my relationship problems without exposing us all.
“She’s asleep. She had a nightmare last night and couldn’t fall back to sleep until a couple of hours ago, poor thing.”
“Oh no,” I sighed. “Does that happen often?”
“No.”
I gave her a raised eyebrow as I sipped my coffee.
“Honestly.” Jolene laughed at my skepticism. “This is probably only the third time in her whole life she’s had one. I really don’t think it has anything to do with her mother. Normally she wakes up and it’s pain related, but we manage that. That’s why she still naps. She loses sleep at nights. This was just a fluke. She’s a kid. It happens. She’s doing well, Tessa. You can relax.”
Jolene reached across the counter and placed her hand on top of mine.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll relax.”
“Good.” She nodded. “Can I get you something to eat?”
I wasn’t hungry. Or maybe I was, but I was too upset to eat. But I knew Jolene well enough to know that she absolutely had to feed me.
“Yes. I’ll have whatever you made for Preston.”
Jolene smiled. “You’re finally learning to just let me feed you.”
“That and I didn’t have breakfast this morning,” I said with a laugh.
Jolene kept the kitchen in magazine picture quality. She had tea towels with delicate embroidery, a rustic bowl of shiny red apples, and perfectly displayed designer plates. She went to a white cake stand with a glass dome and pulled out a massive, gooey cinnamon roll.
“Why don’t I warm this up for you while you tell me what’s goin
g on.” She put the roll on a teal plate and popped it in the microwave.
I bit at my lip. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
Jolene turned and rolled her dark eyes at me. “Girl, please. You’re clearly here to talk. So, spill,”
I couldn’t tell if I was that obvious or predictable, or if she was just perceptive and had figured it out. It didn’t matter. I wanted to talk to her either way.
“I don’t exactly have a lot of friends.” Jolene nodded like she already knew that. Everyone knew it. “I could give you a laundry list of reasons as to why, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. I like you, Jolene. You’re honest, and you don’t mince words. And we’re on this crazy White House ride together, so I hope you and I are friends.”
Jolene took the cinnamon roll out of the microwave and handed me the plate. The icing oozed and it smelled so sweet that my mouth watered.
“I already considered us friends. Say what you need to say. It’s between us.”
“Okay, that’s good.” I nodded mostly to myself. “ So, I need . . . relationship advice.”
“Talk,” Jolene almost sang the words. “I knew Mr. Perfect President wasn’t so perfect. Spill. What does he do? Talk over you? Snore? Can’t get it up? I can help with all those things.”
“No,” I laughed, feeling at ease. “It’s just . . . he . . .” oh, damn. Why did I think I could do this? I had nothing to say that wouldn’t give it away. “It’s just sometimes I feel like I’m not a part of my own relationship. Do you know what I mean?”
“Nope. I can’t relate to that.”
I groaned.
“Well, you’re not giving me anything to work with. Can you tell me the actual problem?”
“Cal and I both want the same thing, but he’s scared. I mean, I’m scared too, but I’m willing to try. And it seems like he is sometimes willing to try, but when it gets too real, it’s like he isn’t willing. And then he goes and makes these huge, life-changing decisions and doesn’t consult me and I don’t know what to do.”
Jolene blinked at me in confusion while my heart pounded in my chest as if I’d just detailed my love triangle to her.
