Shine

by R. L. Jameson

I’m completely shocked when I feel Sherman’s surprisingly strong arm reach around me, encase me in a tight hug. “She’s okay. She’s okay.”

  I’m crying and nodding and smiling and so grateful.

  My heart, that must have heard the news and returned from Canada, is beating happily in my chest once more. My breathing is still shaky but now it’s because I’m so joyful.

  I look deeply into the eyes of the man who could fire me. He’s crying too. He really does love Bethany. And for that I love him too. He’ll take good care of her. And I will too.

  But if Bethany tells him who my friends are in the waiting room he could fire me. For misconduct. Conduct unbecoming a professor. And I wonder if Sherman is the shoe that will drop.

  22

  I roll my head back as Gabe thrusts into me. My fantasy is fulfilled: we’re in his cop car and I have him handcuffed. I’m sitting astride him. He’s in uniform. Just looking at him, the cop in cuffs, has me near an orgasm. I’ve manacled him to the door. He has one hand that’s free, clutching at my hip, holding me still as he rocks his hips up and up.

  I’m meeting with my former sister-in-law today at the mall. Gabe just happened to be in the parking lot when I arrived. We were merely going to talk for a bit, but we parked his cop car at the back of the public structure and before too long tore my leggings off to have sex. Usually we’d be safe from scrutinizing eyes, but it’s close to Christmas. That special time of the year when everyone and their cousin are out shopping.

  I had no clue I was a bit of an exhibitionist. I mean, Gabe and I tried to park where people couldn’t see us. But honestly, I don’t care. The sex is so good I just can’t stop.

  After a couple months of almost constant sex, you’d think I wouldn’t want it so much. But one look at Gabe or Chris or Paul and I’m nearly begging. With three men, one of them is always up for it. Further, we’re getting really good at it now. I’ve learned how to turn them on in mere seconds. Gabe and I just look at each other and there’s fire between us. He was here with other uniforms, regarding a shoplifting case. And after one look his way, he was ushering me in his car, swearing, and telling me I’d get him fired.

  In the warmth of his automobile, Gabe’s rhythm is driving me insane. I kiss him so I don’t say the words on the tip of my tongue. I love you, I want to tell him. Chris and I have admitted it to each other. We don’t say it aloud in front of Gabe or Paul yet. And I’ve also told Chris that I love the other men too. A flash of something crossed his eyes, but he smiled and nodded, saying he understood.

  Do the men feel I’m cheating them of my full attention?

  I’ve asked. I may be a coward more often than I’d like to be, but I’ll be damned if I mistreat someone. I have full control over that, and it would kill me if I ever hurt one of the beautiful men in my life.

  Gabe once said he’d like me all to himself, and after I asked Chris if it bothered him I loved Gabe and Paul, he shook his head. But he was quiet for a long moment.

  Finally, he told me he never thought he’d fall in love with a woman who had two other men. He did have the idea he’d be the only husband—yes, that’s the word he used. But he liked Paul and Gabe. He and Gabe were like lost buddies reunited, and I initially worried Paul felt pushed aside, but then I noticed Chris being just as good of a friend to him too. They all started playing quidditch together—Paul admitted how he got into rugby from quidditch. God, I love getting to know Paul better. I had no idea under that brooding visage was a nerd. And I love him for it.

  Chris is often underestimated. Probably thought of as not exactly smart. But I know better. He’s a sage. And after he talked about being my husband and Paul and Gabe, he said, “Well, this relationship isn’t what I expected. But that’s life, huh? You have all these ideas of what life will be, what it’ll look like, but if you just go with a good flow, then it always turns out better than you thought.”

  Gabe kisses me and he’s growling, which is sure to make me come. He’s hefting me up and down faster and faster. He’s going to orgasm soon too.

  God, I want to whisper it to him. I love you. I love you. I love you.

  I whispered it last night to Paul. After we’d had sex in my office for the thousandth time, he held me close, so close. And while still panting, I blurted it out. He stilled. I know he heard me. But he didn’t say it back. Maybe because the way I’d said it was cowardly.

  And it will be cowardly now if I say it to Gabe. People say all sorts of things when orgasming or after. Gabe says things like, “Fuck, that was so good. Fuck. Damn. Fuck. I love having sex with you. You feel so good. That was so good. I loved that.” And so on.

  He stops kissing me then stops thrusting into me. He pulls his head back, cradling my cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my orgasm inside me, begging to be released with just one more thrust.

  His huge chest is moving up and down quickly and he’s sweating. His blue, blue eyes bore into mine.

  He’s panting when he asks, “Why does it feel so right when we have sex? Why does everything we do feel right?”

  I’m not sure, but I think he’s carefully broaching the subject of having two other men as my lovers. Then again, I could be wrong. This communication thing between four people is tough. But in one way it’s easier. If there’s ever the threat of a disagreement, someone is there to interfere and make sure all sides are listened to. Though sometimes it’s even more difficult because, it seems, none of us wants to hurt anyone else. So we tread carefully, maybe too carefully around the subject of “what the hell are we doing together.”

  I smile. “It does feel right, doesn’t it?”

  He kisses me and in so doing, maneuvers my body just so and I orgasm. I feel him smile against my lips.

  “Did I make you come, princess?”

  “Yes.” I roll my head back again. “Yes. God, yes.”

  “I feel you squeezing me. You’re going to make me come.”

  “Yes. God. Oh.” I look down at him as I’m bucking into him, seeing where we’re joined. “Come for me, Gabe. I want you to.”

  His one hand slides up the side of me. “You want me to?”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  “What will you give me if I do?”

  He’s playing a game. I know he’s close to coming. And there’s a trick I can do with my hands that will make him. But he’s playing and I love it when he does.

  “Anything.” I’m still bucking and getting even more wild with the low velvety words of his.

  “Anything?”

  “God, yes.”

  He fists my hair that’s now a little past my chin, and pulls me down so he can whisper in my ear. “I want to meet your sister-in-law. I want you to introduce me as your boyfriend. Tell her you’re mine.”

  I have no clue where his request came from. It’s so far from what I expected I’m wordless. Even my body isn’t sure if I should finish my orgasm.

  “O-okay,” I whisper.

  Then he grips my hip again and strokes his cock into me. Once, twice, and he buries himself inside, coming. My body responds with another orgasm, even as I shudder from anxiety.

  23

  Deidra Emory looks the opposite of her brother, and for that I’m always grateful. Her hair is as dark as could be—that color of black that’s almost blue. And her complexion is as fair as mine. If there were a Snow White, she would be her. She is also the fairest in the land, in that I’ve never met a more beautiful woman. Inside and out.

  Her brother was tan. Always. I marveled at his skin, how in the dead of winter he’d still have his golden glow, except where he wore his shorts. From mid-thigh to under his bellybutton, he had this creamy skin that I loved to touch when we were newlyweds. I felt like an explorer when I touched his skin there, like he had never let another caress him in that place. I was wrong, but now I’m grateful Tim let me think as much. I was so naive, and I’m thankful he didn’t make me feel like a fool for exploring his body as I did.

  And Tim
was blond. Almost like Chris. People thought Tim and I were brother and sister. No one has ever thought that of Chris and me. Chris is too big. And the way he looks at me lets everyone know his thoughts. I love that about him. I never worry if he finds me attractive or not. He lets me know by his hot gaze.

  I’m to meet Deidra at a coffee shop in the mall. She said something about needing to get some shopping done, and I’m hopeful she won’t ask me to help her. Lord, I hate shopping, which all the men in my life find amusing. Well, I like grocery shopping with Gabe. He makes it fun and tells me what he’s getting and what he’ll use it for and how he’d like to lick something off me. Yes, I do like grocery shopping now.

  Gabe’s holding my hand, our fingers entwined, and he looks like a man on a mission as we enter the mall. It’s actually called a plaza. Laramie, Wyoming isn’t the kind of town with a giant, multi-floored mall. It’s just a few red brick buildings all clinging to each other, and this time of the year it’s crowded with Christmas joy and anxiety over what to get loved ones. People are in a frenzy and absent-minded. But they cut a path for Gabe, the cop.

  He’s wearing his winter police gear, but it’s obvious what he is, even through his blue-black parka. And I’m a little in love with the way people do double takes of us but then avoid eye contact with Gabe. I’m a little in love with him.

  No, I’m a lot in love.

  Have you ever met someone and you don’t know what it is about them, but they get you? And you think you get them? Gabe and I don’t have a lot in common. But that doesn’t matter. We match. For instance, take his cooking and my not cooking. It’s like we’re a strange set of traits where together we make each other better. Alone, I’m a bad cook. With him, I’m learning and savoring things like risotto, pineapple cheesecake, and even simple things like fruit salad made more delicious because of Gabe. Everything is more wonderful with him.

  Why does he want me to tell my former sister-in-law I’m his? Doesn’t he know I am? Does he want me to make a statement like this to Paul and Chris? Is he forcing me to make a decision? To choose which man I want?

  Making it to the coffee shop in record time, because Gabe can divide the crowds like Moses and the Red Sea, I see the dark, dark gloss of my sister—former sister-in-law’s tresses. I want to keep calling her my sister. I want that so much. But I’m not sure if it’s right. I’m not sure if Deidra really wants to call me her sister or if she’s just being nice. I’m so unsure of everything. Everyone.

  Then I stop in my tracks, Gabe tugging on me. Sitting beside Deidra is the other most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, my former mother-in-law. She is like Tim. She’s golden and beautiful and pristine in a creamy cashmere sweater and pearls strung effortlessly around her thin neck. She’s truly chic in a town that tries to mix urban with rustic. She’s lovely like an ice sculpture. And I’m terrified.

  While Deidra barely lets me get a word in edgewise, because she’s so humorous and happy, Margaret is unbearably quiet. Like me. We make for horrible conversations that usually ends up with me feeling as small as a dust mite and her leaving in a huff.

  “What is it? Is she here?” Gabe’s tracking my gaze, trying to figure out why I’ve stopped.

  I swallow. “She’s with my mother-in-law.”

  My only rule with Gabe, Chris, and Paul is that I don’t talk about my childhood. But they know all about Tim and his family. I couldn’t talk enough about how excited I was at seeing jet-setting Deidra. She’s in a green sweater that’s fashionably torn and worn and looking every bit the famous photojournalist she is. However, the tendons in her neck are standing out. Her shoulders are a little more hiked than normal. She’s stressed and she takes a slitted glance at her mother.

  I know Deidra and her mother don’t get along. But I’m not sure who gets along with Margaret. I hate to say that of the woman. However, as beautiful as she is, she’s also the most emotionally closed-off person I’ve ever met. And I thought I won that title. Until I met her. She’s also…well, she’s cold and that combination makes her fiercely intimidating.

  Gabe turns to me. “You okay?”

  I look at him. I want to tell Margaret all about Gabe—how we just made love in his car, how I handcuffed him, how he makes me come, and how sex with my beautiful policeman is not like Tim. I actually give myself to Gabe. I’ve given him my heart too, although I haven’t told him that. I want to tell her because, god help me, anger fires through my veins at seeing Margaret. I don’t know why I’m mad. I just am.

  She knows very well of Tim’s indiscretions, as she calls his fucking around. She hired a detective to find the woman who stole our savings, retrieving only ten thousand dollars of the hundred thousand we had saved. But the next day, when I checked my savings, there was close to two hundred thousand dollars in the account. I tried to talk to her about giving me so much money. I tried to refuse it. She wouldn’t let me. Not much later, I tried to explain to her that I was getting a small apartment after Tim died. But the very next hour, a realtor called, asked if I wanted to see a house, which is now the home I love so much. The realtor, after I walked into the kitchen, gave me the keys, begging me to take it, because Margaret was a powerful woman and could ruin her career if I didn’t.

  I’ll never understand Margaret—cold, distant, giving to a fault. Was she handing me the money and house because she thought me a charity case? Or was she paying me off for taking care of her son? Or…she never explained anything. Perhaps I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. But when a woman is supposed to be your mother, you can’t help but wonder how she could be so giving but act as if talking to me were as repulsive as getting herpes.

  She sees me then. She’s elegantly holding the handle of a teacup and blinks, looking away. She talks to Deidra who turns to gaze in my direction.

  “Jane!” Deidra runs to me as if we’re longtime friends reunited. She hugs me that way too, and I want to cry.

  Deidra holds my arms, but releases me enough to look at me. Her eyes are rimmed red, extra moisture pooling in those green depths.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  I nod. “So good to see you. I want to hear about all the places you’ve been to, all the pictures you’ve taken. I found some in Nat Geo, but I know you do more political stuff too. I want to know everything.”

  She giggles. “No, I want to know everything about you.” Then she pointedly looks at Gabe. “Hello, strange man acting possessive of my sister.”

  My heart soars at her words. “This is Gabe, Gabriel Thompson.” And then I remember the deal I made; although, by then I think it was rather manipulative of Gabe to make a deal like that in the throes of my orgasm. Still, I say the words. “My boyfriend.”

  Deidra squeals again. “Boyfriend?” Then she’s hugging Gabe. He’s very surprised by her reaction and stands with his arms glued to his sides for a few seconds. But then he’s laughing and patting her back.

  Deidra steps away and lets a tear fall. I reach out, but she shakes her head, her smile beaming. “I’m so happy for you, Jane. So happy.”

  During one of the long phone conversations where Deidra called me from Chile drunk, she said she worried I’d never get over her brother. Tim was lovable. As much as he was fallible, he was completely lovable, she said. And she begged me to download dating apps.

  “Thank you.” Heat is blazing across my cheeks, but I love telling her that Gabe’s mine. And I’m his.

  Deidra smacks Gabe on the arm, not at all afraid of his authority. “And you, Mr. Gabe, you’d better be nice to my Jane. She’s the sweetest woman alive. And if you hurt her—”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to never hurt her, to always protect her, to give her everything she wants and needs.”

  I can hardly believe Gabe’s said this. God, I love him. I just love Gabriel Michael Thompson. I love him so much.

  Deidra smacks him again. “Aw, now, that’s as sweet as Jane. I can’t help but like you.”

  Gabe softly laughs.
“I hope so. Jane says wonderful things about you.”

  Deidra takes my hand. “Mom’s here.” Her whisper is low, her voice a tad shaky.

  I shouldn’t have doubted Deidra. Her spirit is a lot like Chris’s where it seems like nothing has touched her. There’s no bitterness or resentment. She might not be golden like Tim and her mother, but her heart is. She shines like the sun, and I’m the luckiest woman alive to have her still want to be my sister. At this point, it is a choice for her. And she called her mother, my mother. Deidra is inclusive and so fucking beautiful.

  I nod, trying not to cry because I’m so moved by everything about Deidra. “I noticed.”

  “She wants to talk to you.”

  I inhale. Perhaps too sharply?

  “But can I please introduce your Gabe to Mom?” Deidra looks as bouncy as a puppy, a puppy who knows it’s going to get into trouble but it’s just too much fun to do otherwise.

  I try to breathe again then nod.

  Deidra tugs on the both of us, and we take the thirty or a million steps to get to Margaret. It seems to take us an eternity, and I stare at my former mother-in-law, assessing her piercing blue eyes, so similar to Tim’s.

  One reason why it’s difficult to talk to Margaret is because she looks so like her son. Her eyes are the same hue. On Sunday mornings, after Tim and I were married, we’d lie in bed and read, and often I’d watch him more than anything that was in a book. God, I loved him, how fast his gaze moved across the page, how his pupils would dilate when he’d look at me. I loved the way he’d smile and say something glib, tease me, then roll on top of me. I loved the weight of him.

  This is the first time, since Tim’s death, I have memories about my husband where I think of the days filled with love. And what’s sad is that my memory is making Tim fuzzy. I can’t see the details any more. I don’t remember how much he weighed. I remember I loved it. But I don’t remember him as well. There’s a softening to my memories, like sepia photos. And I’ve started to remember Tim in kinder ways. It’s made it so I can finally let him go.