Sam told her how they met at a friend’s potluck housewarming party when he was thirty-four and Claudia was twenty-five. He brought homemade pulled-pork sliders. She brought a bottle of prosecco and a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Claudia—spin class junkie, people person, lover of salty snacks—was already a rising star in the marketing department of a youthful makeup brand. Which is where, years later, she met Anton—fellow department head, bowling league teammate, diehard Lakers fan… and the man she had an affair with for three years.
“Three years.” Liv didn’t intend to underline it. “Sorry. That’s just so…”
“Long,” Sam finished. “I know.”
“I was going to say cruel. My husband was cheating on me for six months, and I thought that was an eternity. And then of course, there was the will.”
“Will?”
Liv found herself opening up to Sam, divulging the nature of the Savannah, Eliot, Liv triangle.
He put his dessert fork down, looking shocked. “I’m amazed.”
“Affairs are amazing. In the less positive sense of the word.”
“No,” he amended. “I’m amazed you had the strength to put it behind you and work with Savannah, day-to-day. That must be taking incredible inner strength.”
Liv flushed with the compliment. “But three years. That must’ve destroyed you.”
“Maimed. Tortured. Possibly lost a limb. But I’m still standing. And it’s nothing like”—Sam paused—“I was going to say ‘losing her,’ but what I really mean is her dying.”
There was no handbook for talking about death. But at least Sam could say the words. Eliot was dead. That was a fact.
“I’ve been wondering,” Liv said. “What would’ve been less worse: Eliot dying or us having to deal with the affair. Of course, I’d do anything to bring him back, even if we weren’t together. For Ben, mostly. But sometimes—and I can’t believe I’m admitting this—I feel… relief that it happened. Because that choice was taken out of my hands.”
If Eliot hadn’t died and they’d had to deal with the affair, Liv would only have had her preconceived notion of being a scorned woman, a cuckolded wife, to deal with his betrayal. A role as calcified as their marriage had become. But because things happened in the weird way that they did, she’d come to see the incompatible side of her husband with fresher eyes. She met Sam’s gaze. The color of butterscotch pudding, focused entirely on her.
“So, here I am.”
“Dating.”
Liv screwed up her face. “Don’t say it.”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a blood sport. Most women don’t want to date a guy with a kid.”
Liv finished the last bite of dessert. “I think most women just don’t want to get treated like an idiot.” She thought for a second. “Or raped.”
Sam choked. “Did you just say rape on our first date?”
Liv pushed the empty plate aside. “Okay. Here’s what you should know about me. I don’t suffer fools. I work all the time. I love my kid, and I will murder anyone who touches so much as a hair on his head. I don’t like women who speak in baby voices or men who think their dicks are some sort of passport to power or respect. And because women have been treated like second-class citizens since the dawn of time, yes, I will acknowledge the existence of rape.” She sat back in her chair. “So. Are we done?”
Sam chuckled, unfazed. “On the contrary.” He flagged their server down and ordered another round of port. “We’re just getting started.”
40
Zach found Darlene on the far corner of the patio, facing the pool. The light from under the water patterned her pretty face in shifting silver. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her and never stop. “Oh my God! You were amazing back there.”
She let out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure your parents hate me right now.”
“What? No! That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” He let himself gaze into those clever dark eyes that could see right through him. At that lovely mouth that just said all those lovely things. He’d always tried to be open-minded and kind, but no one had ever reflected it back to him. It felt like there was no one in his life who challenged him, admired him, or believed in him as much as Darlene. “Thank you, Darlene.”
She smiled at him. “You’re welcome, Zach.”
The need to touch her built to a fever pitch. Zach jammed his hands in his pockets to stop him mauling her like a hungry beast. “So was that all just part of the act? Or do you actually think that about me?”
Darlene ran her tongue lightly across her bottom lip. “I think both are true.”
Stunned, happy disbelief billowed in his chest, puffing him up like a prize-winning peacock. Who cared if it was also for the money? Darlene Mitchell, world’s most perfect human, did not think he was a total and complete knob. She actually, maybe, liked him. As a person. Zach could not stop a smile spreading over his face. He inched a step closer.
She inched a step closer.
“My parents might be watching us,” Zach said. “So maybe we should kiss.”
Darlene laughed, her eyes bright and alive. “That is the creepiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
And because she wasn’t flinching or backing away, he did what he’d been wanting to do all night. Lift a hand to skim her soft cheek. Find the small of her back and slowly move her closer, until they were pressed right up against each other. Thigh to thigh. Belly to belly. Skin to skin. A clenched, anxious part of him finally settled. She was in his arms. Where she was always meant to be. He could feel her heartbeat, loud and fast, echoing his own.
“God, Dee,” he managed, his words rough and unchecked. “You drive me crazy.”
She pulled his mouth toward hers until their lips were hovering, almost touching, and he saw stars and planets and distant galaxies. “You too,” she whispered, and then they were kissing.
Zach had kissed his fair share of women. Correction: Zach had kissed his unfair share of women. Like music, it was something he had both natural and practiced talent for. But kissing Darlene was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. There was so much passion in her body. Passion that wasn’t at all obvious when they weren’t kissing. But as soon as their lips connected, sensible, sweet Darlene turned into a sexy, insatiable vixen. If Zach was capable of conscious thought, he’d realize this transformation was not unfamiliar to him. Because who was the electric performer who could hold an audience’s attention, moving and grooving and owning the stage? The same girl in his arms, sucking his lower lip until he groaned against her mouth.
There was no one but Darlene. They must be together, like this, always, every day, every minute, every second. His hands found the curve of her ass, squeezing both cheeks. He was losing control, the embrace turning fiery. He wanted her, all of her, right here on the bloody pool deck. Why were there still so many of these damn clothes between them?
Darlene broke it off, panting a little. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m not a peep show.”
“Roger that.” No devouring Darlene in public, got it. He fought the urge to reach out for one more kiss.
A voice sung out from the back door. “Guys!” It was Imogene. “Dad wants to play canasta. Darlene, you’re on my team.”
The pair exchanged an amused look. They’d been summoned. Darlene did up her top button that had somehow become undone and straightened her dress. “How do I look?”
Zach pushed a hand through his hair, raking his eyes up and down her body as if he were a man about to lose his sight and it was the last time he’d ever get to see her. “Absolutely bloody gorgeous.”
41
Darlene played two hours of canasta with Zach and his family. No one said anything about her earlier outburst, but when Zach played the winning hand, his father offered a seemingly sincere well played to his son. Darlene intuited the Livingstones were still processing her statement and the fact she’d dared make it in the first place. Maybe that was why the game was especially, noticeab
ly, boisterous. Now, on the road back to New York, Darlene turned to Zach and laughed. “That was all a bit…”
“Bonkers,” he said, both hands on the wheel. “I know. My family’s a lot.”
She relaxed into the passenger seat, feeling warm and a bit woozy from the wine. “Are they always so critical?”
“They’ve always treated me like a court jester, but the pressure to get a good job and date someone respectable”—he tossed her a grin—“is a new thing. Dad has high expectations. I mean, look at Imogene: killing it at work, marrying someone just as successful and brilliant as she is. They’re both Scorpios: talk about a power couple. Mum and Dad just want that for me too.”
She looked over at him, charmed. “When did you get into astrology?”
“I’ve always been into astrology. You just never noticed. Typical Virgo.” He shook his head, and she chuckled. The highway was lined with trees. Only the ones closest to the road were visible, the rest hidden in darkness. “What about your family?” Zach went on. “What’s your wound?”
And even though Darlene never talked about this, she didn’t hesitate in telling Zach the truth. “Expressing love.”
“Really?”
She gazed ahead at the darkened road. It felt safe, not facing each other, in the new, open space they’d created over the course of the night. “Dad’s just not good at it. We can talk about work and politics and culture and stuff.” She smiled, recalling their many debates at the dinner table. “And I know he’s proud of me. The one time I saw him cry was when I got into Princeton. But we’ve never been, like, touchy-feely.”
Zach checked the speedometer. They were under the speed limit. “Your mom passed away, right?”
Darlene nodded. “Car accident. When I was twelve. The other driver ran a red light.”
“How horrendous. I’m so sorry.”
She remembered that night in shards—two cops at the door, her father thinking that at first they’d come for him, then breaking down. Having to make her own dinner for the very first time. The night she stopped being a child. “Thanks. She was pretty great. Mom was touchy-feely.”
“How so?”
“My mom was the heart of my family. She was the kind of person who had an open-door policy, so there were always people dropping by for dinner, always something in the oven. She could sing, too. Not professionally, just around the house, but I get that from her. And she gave great hugs. All the time. Big on hugs.” Darlene wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the earthy-sweet-acidic smell of her mom’s Luster’s Pink hair oil. The way it felt to be small and safe in her arms. “After she was gone, my dad didn’t know what to do. How to replace all that. So, he didn’t. He worked, all the time. He was a good provider—I wasn’t missing anything, like, superficially—but we were never close close.” She paused, thinking. “I actually can’t even remember the last time he said I love you.”
Zach looked moved. “Oh, Dee.”
Darlene had never shared this with a guy. Somehow, Zach made it easy. “Maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to talk about my feelings.” She sighed. “Music’s where I express my emotions, I guess.”
“I don’t know how anyone couldn’t express emotion around you.” He gave her a heartfelt smile. “You’re very expressible.”
She rolled her eyes, secretly pleased. It was quiet in the car. Darlene felt surprisingly happy, even unburdened, as they drove in comfortable silence.
Zach turned up the car’s heat a little. “Speaking of music, have you written anything new for your album?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s hear it.” Then, as she hesitated, “C’mon. I promise not to bite. Unless you want me to.”
“There’s something about it that’s not quite right.” She sang the chorus for him. “He’s my dark secret; she thinks he’s a keeper. She likes to run, but he makes her stand still.”
“I like it.” He hummed the bars, casually harmonizing. “What’s not working for you?”
“I don’t know. It’s not…” She inhaled, thinking. Sometimes talking about music was like dancing about money: square peg, round hole. “Raw enough, or something.”
Zach sang the lines a few more times, playing with the rhythm and pitch. “What’s it about?”
You and me. “Zia and Clay.”
Zach had met Clay; he knew of the secret romance. “Right, of course.” He changed lanes to overtake a lumbering truck. He was a better driver than Darlene remembered. “What if you switch the pronoun to I?” He sang to demonstrate. “He’s my dark secret; I think he’s a keeper. I like to run, but he makes me stand still.”
The lyrics fell around her like Tetris pieces falling into place. Because it was about her and Zach: he was her secret; he was a keeper. She kept her voice as neutral as possible. “Yes. That actually works.”
“You’re actually welcome.” Zach grinned at her. “What other lyrics have you got?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Let’s write it together.”
The prospect was equally scary and intriguing. “We’ve never written a song together.”
“So let’s give it a go. We have got another two hours to kill.”
Darlene wiped her palms in her dress, suddenly nervous. “Okay.”
“So, it’s about Zia and Clay, right? What’s your hot take on their relationship?”
“They’re lucky,” Darlene thought aloud. “To have found someone special. But it’s hard for them. Who he is, and everything. He’s greater than the sum of his parts.”
“Oooh, I like that.” Zach tapped out a beat on the steering wheel, singing. “He’s greater than the sum of his parts, which doesn’t make it easy on my heart.”
“He’s not a player, he’s a stayer, but he keeps himself farther from me than…”
“Australia,” Zach finished, and they both laughed.
Goofing around was fun. But they probably could write a decent song together. Zach was as relaxed and open as she was careful and cerebral. The thrill of creation flowed into her like adrenaline. They had only two hours! She twisted to face him. “Let’s do it for real.”
* * *
The street was empty when Zach pulled up outside Darlene’s building. They’d pretty much finished “Dark Secret”: most of the lyrics and harmony and nailed down the hook. It sounded good. She couldn’t wait to start cutting a demo.
Zach turned off the engine. “Thanks again for coming. You were brilliant tonight.”
“You’re welcome. It was very… illuminating.”
“For me too.” He gave her a smile that was sweet… but also sad. “You know you’re way too good for me, right?”
“Don’t say that.” Darlene touched his hand. She wanted to raise it to her mouth and kiss each fingertip. “You deserve the best, Zach. I mean that.”
He waited till she’d unlocked the building’s front door to call through the driver’s side window. “Hey, Dee? I… fake… kind of… really like you.”
Darlene knew he was flirting—that the words were more true than false—and it was so radically impossible that this was the same Zach she’d known for two years. But the smell of the city soured the perfection of the car ride just a little, reminding her that she had to be sensible. Careful. No one changed overnight. The only thing certain about this entire situation was the $25,000 she was making. “Good night, Zach.”
42
While she’d typically come by ’Shwick Chick when it was busy, Savannah waited until Honey was just about to lock up. It was after midnight when they sat at what Savannah had come to think of as her table, a bottle of bourbon between them like a lifeline.
“I feel like an idiot for assuming you were straight,” she said, as plainly as she could. “I’m sorry.”
“To be honest, I didn’t know how you’d react,” Honey said. “I’m still a little cautious about letting new people in.”
“You can let me in,” Savannah said. “Honestly, I’m really interested.”
&n
bsp; Honey said she knew she was gay as soon as she knew what being gay was. “I didn’t want to be. I spent years shoving it down, hoping it’d go away. I was so ashamed. So alone. I didn’t know anyone who was gay, apart from, like, celebrities who lived in a completely different world to me. Completely.”
“What do you mean?”
Honey etched her fingernail into the dark wood paneling of the restaurant walls. “My family is super religious. I grew up in a part of Alabama where you wear a purity ring and sex before marriage is worse than drowning puppies. You wouldn’t even recognize me back then. Long hair, makeup. Dresses, always.”
“No tattoos?” Savannah guessed.
“Ha. No. I never planned on telling my parents about who I really was.”
But they found out.
“I’d been talking to a girl I met online,” Honey continued. “She lived in the UK; we’d message each other now and then. She was queer too, in a similar situation.” Honey drew a long breath. “I forgot to log out.”
“What happened?”
“My mom was hysterical. Told me I’d broken her heart. My dad told me I was disgusting, I was going to hell, all that stuff. They took me to church.” Honey shook her head at the memory. “Had me exorcized.”
“Are you joking?”
“I wish. Our pastor, who I’d literally known since I was a baby, told me I’d never find happiness, never find love. It broke me. I packed up my car, and left. My parent’s last words were don’t come back.”
“Oh my gosh, Honey.” How could anyone be so cruel to someone so warm and wonderful? Her own parents were so loving and accepting. Savannah couldn’t imagine them turning anyone away.
But she’d never thought about what would happen if she brought another woman home. She couldn’t imagine Terry and Sherry being relaxed and easy in that circumstance. It was just so outside what her parents expected of her. What she’d led them to believe about herself.
It Had to Be You Page 20
