Between Friends

by Lolita Lopez

  “Eddie?”

  His gaze snapped to her. His face relaxed. “Wow! You look amazing. I mean…wow!”

  “You look so hot. I’m blown away. Really.” Whitney smiled and strode toward him. She spun around and presented her back. Lifting her hair, she asked, “Can you zip me up?”

  “Sure.” Eddie slowly tugged the zipper up her back. His big, strong hands settled on her shoulders. The caress sent goose bumps rippling along her skin. “You smell so good.”

  Whitney hummed as Eddie’s lips ghosted across her bare collarbone. Heat flooded her core. She worried about getting too turned on before the wedding and stepped away. “Let me get my things, and we’ll head out.”

  Eddie trailed her to her office area. “I like this. It’s nice and open.” He glanced around. “But how do you do meetings?”

  She pointed toward the ceiling. “We have conference rooms upstairs.”

  “I was happy to see a guard downstairs. Especially since you work late some nights,” he added.

  Whitney smiled as she switched off her computer monitor and slipped into her heels. Leave it to Eddie to size up the place for safety and completely ignore the beautiful architecture. “This building houses mostly women and a lot of us work late. Delilah and Isabel, the founder of the graphic design firm on the top two floors, share the costs of security.” She handed her backpack to Eddie. “And, yes, I do ask George or Nate to walk me out to my car when it’s dark.”

  “Good girl.” Eddie pecked her cheek. “You got everything?”

  “I think so.” She cast one final glance at her desk before gesturing toward the elevator. They made small talk about their days as they rode down to the ground floor and left the building. Whitney searched for her keys as they approached her car. “You want to drive?”

  “Yes.” He happily took the keys and walked around to the driver’s side. Whitney hadn’t expected anything less. Like Mick, Eddie nitpicked when she drove. According to the pair, she was too fast, too quick to switch lanes, and never properly signaled. Mick swore he lost ten years off his life the first time he rode with her to the grocery store.

  Whitney slid into the front seat as Eddie placed her backpack in the back. She watched with amusement as Eddie tried to squeeze himself into the seat. His knees were jammed up to his chest. He looked like a giant. His hand slapped around between the seat and the door. “Where the hell is the button to adjust this thing?”

  “It’s down here.” Whitney leaned across the center console and ducked her head down by his legs. She felt around until her fingers found the raised ridges of the buttons. The seat slowly moved back and down. “Better?”

  “Your head is between my legs, sugar.” He grinned wolfishly. “Of course, I’m better.”

  Whitney sat up a little and nipped at his chin. Her hand curved along the inside of his thigh. She grasped as much of his huge package as possible in her small hand and gave a seductive squeeze. “Ever fucked in a parking lot?”

  Eddie groaned. “You’re going to kill me.” He reluctantly moved her hand away. “And, no, I haven’t and don’t plan to try it out anytime soon. I’m an officer of the law, Whitney. I just can’t.”

  Pouting, she returned to her seat and buckled her seatbelt. “You’re no fun. Mick would have knocked back the seat and told me to hop on for the ride.”

  Eddie frowned as he turned the ignition and put the A/C on blast. “Yeah, well, Mick is a hotshot surgeon with plenty of cash to burn through. Me? Not so much. One ticket like that would tank my career.”

  Guilt slashed at her. She’d been unfair to Eddie.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached across and touched his hand. “You’re right. That wasn’t a fair comparison to make. Anyway”-she smiled-“I like that you’re always the responsible one.”

  “That makes two of us.” Eddie started out of the parking lot. “Where we going?”

  Whitney gave him the name of the hotel and the directions. He knew of a faster way to get there, of course, and they sped out of the parking lot. Like always, they disagreed over what radio station to listen to as they drove across town. Eventually, Whitney acquiesced to Eddie’s preference since he was driving. She wasn’t happy about listening to hair metal but reminded herself it was better than Mick’s favorite talk radio any day.

  As they joined the line of cars queuing up for the hotel’s valet, Whitney spotted friends and waved. She loved a good party! Eddie seemed less than enthusiastic as he inched forward slowly.

  “What’s wrong, Eddie?” She stroked the back of his neck.

  He shrugged. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

  “Social events?”

  He nodded. “I always feel out of place.” His gaze followed a couple getting out of the car in front of them. “I mean, look at these people. I’m not one of them.” He swallowed hard. “This is more of Mick’s crowd, you know? Educated. Polished. Movers and shakers.”

  “Eddie,” she said softly. Before she could find the right words, they were moving forward and stepping out for the valet.

  Despite his assertion that he wasn’t polished, Eddie did everything right. He curved a protective arm around her waist and led her into the hotel’s opulent lobby. Whitney noticed the turned heads as they made their way to the ceremony room. She couldn’t blame them. Eddie in a tux was a mean combination. Hard and lean and so ridiculously sexy. She’d have to keep her hand on him all night or else he’d be the one fending off drunken bridesmaids.

  Whitney loved seeing so many old friends. She hadn’t seen many of them since the fall shows in New York. The busy pace of the fashion world made it so difficult to keep up long-distance friendships. Weddings and baby showers seemed to be the tent poles holding up their relationships.

  She made sure to introduce Eddie to everyone. She loved the way they were all so surprised and interested by his profession. Whitney hoped Eddie could see himself the way other people saw him. So what if he didn’t have a doctorate or a six-figure salary? He put his life on the line every day and was a true hero.

  They found seats in the middle on the bride’s side. The room had been exquisitely decorated. Whitney marveled at the flowers. A small string quartet sat in one corner of the room and played a selection of soothing music. The change in tunes signaled the arrival of the bridesmaids not long after the groom and his party filed into place.

  As a group, the guests stood and waited with bated breath for the bride’s entrance. Whitney felt tears prickling her eyes as Christy headed down the aisle on her father’s arm. She looked stunning in the simple lace sheath.

  When they resumed their seats to watch the ceremony, Whitney was surprised by Eddie’s arm curling around her shoulders. So much for his weddings-stink stance. Mr. Tough As Nails apparently had a soft side.

  His thumb stroked her shoulder as the couple exchanged vows and rings. Her heart soared with happiness for her friend as the minister pronounced them husband and wife. She stood and joined the rest of the guests in applause as the pair stood as a married couple for the first time before their family and friends.

  And then it hit Whitney like a freight train barreling down the tracks.

  That was something she would never have with Mick and Eddie. It simply wasn’t possible. Two men and one woman couldn’t get married. Not legally, of course. It was one thing to keep their relationship behind closed doors, but eventually people would find out and gossip would spread and then what?

  The fashion world would probably be more open to such an alternative lifestyle choice, but Eddie’s cop buddies and Mick’s medical colleagues? Oh, god. She couldn’t even bear to think about how terrible the two would be treated if the truth about their threesome came out. Eddie would probably face the most problems in such a macho, testosterone-heavy field.

  Her belly lurched. Such a beautiful moment ruined by reality. She held tight to Eddie’s arm as he led her out of their aisle and out to the reception in the ballroom. There was nothing to do about it now, she decided.
Best to plaster on a smile, have a drink, and try to forget.

  For now, at least.

  * * * *

  Grateful to be home, Mick flopped onto the couch and toed off his Crocs. His tired feet throbbed as he propped them up on the arm of the sofa. He draped his arm over his face and enjoyed the quiet peace. Soon, Eddie and Whitney would be home from the wedding. He just hoped they weren’t hoping for some late-night nookie. He’d have to plead a headache and exhaustion just this once.

  Mick’s back and hands ached fiercely. Hours upon hours in surgery patching together the victims of a god-awful bus crash had taken its toll. Of course it happened when they were down a trauma surgeon. Thankfully, Maggie had gotten back into town early from her anniversary trip to Napa Valley with Charlie. She’d been an absolute doll to come in and take over for the night.

  Although he desperately wanted a beer to take the edge off, Mick was on call and had to settle for a handful of ibuprofen washed down with a glass of chocolate milk. He considered going to bed but didn’t have the energy to drag himself off.

  “Fuck, I’m getting old,” he declared aloud. Just a few months short of thirty-six, Mick was finally starting to feel his age. Those crazy-ass hours he’d worked without complaint as an intern and resident were hell on his body now. At least he had Whitney and Eddie to come home to every night. That made it all a little easier.

  Speaking of the devils, he thought as the garage door opened. He only saw one set of low headlights and decided Eddie must have left his truck at the hotel or Whitney’s office. He wouldn’t have to worry about one of them blocking him if he had to run out in the middle of the night to answer his pager.

  “Look, just drop it, okay, Eddie?”

  Mick frowned at Whitney’s upset tone. Her high heels tapped against the hardwood floor. Wincing in pain, he pushed up off the couch and rolled his feet to the ground.

  “No, Whitney. I’m not going to drop it.” Eddie’s heavy footfalls echoed loudly in Mick’s pounding head. “Just tell me what’s wrong!”

  The couple burst into the living room. Whitney threw her purse into the nearest chair while Eddie tossed his tuxedo jacket on the end of the couch. He tugged at his bowtie and finally seemed to notice Mick. “What the hell are you doing home?”

  Taken aback, Mick put up his hands. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but keep me out of it.”

  “I thought you had to work?” Whitney put her hands on her hips. “Did you ditch me for a night home alone?”

  “What?” Mick shot to his feet. “No! Of course not, Whitney. Maggie was able to come in and cover tonight. I got home like ten minutes ago. If you don’t believe me, go feel the hood of my car. I bet it’s still hot.”

  Whitney seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Mick looked back and forth between the pair. “What’s going on?”

  “Ask her.” Eddie gestured angrily toward Whitney. “One moment everything is okay at the reception and the next she’s crying in the bathroom.”

  “What did you do?” Mick demanded.

  Eddie gaped. “Me? Why do you automatically suspect I did something wrong?”

  “Because I know how you can be,” Mick shot back. “Need I remind you of the breakfast incident?”

  “That’s fucked up, Mick.” Eddie practically growled. “I made my amends for that morning. Screw you for throwing it back in my face.” He crossed his arms. “I forgot that you never make mistakes.”

  Mick suddenly felt like shit. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

  “Whatever.” Eddie shook his head. He faced Whitney. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m going to throw you over my lap and paddle your ass.”

  “Oh, that’s your answer for everything, isn’t it, Eddie?” Whitney snapped. “Violence solves all problems, huh?”

  Eddie’s head snapped back as if he’d been hit. “I’ve never been violent with you or Mick or any person I’ve lo-cared about.”

  Mick sensed this discussion was going south fast. He stepped between the fighting pair and put a gentling hand on Whitney’s arm. “Honey, what happened at the wedding?”

  Her lower lip wobbled. She hugged herself and shuddered. “I realized that I’ve been living a stupid fantasy.”

  Like a punch to the gut, Mick watched Whitney sink down into the chair, crushing her purse between her thigh and the cushion, and break down into wracking sobs. He wanted to comfort her but was actually afraid to touch her. What did she mean? Living a stupid fantasy?

  He shot a worried glance at Eddie. The other man’s face was pale and drawn. Oh, Christ. It was Miranda all over again.

  “This has been fun, but it’s not reality, you know?” Whitney cried pitifully. “I want to get married someday. I want to have kids.” She shook her head and shrugged. “How do you do that with two boyfriends? I can only marry one of you. And kids? You can’t raise kids in a three-parent household.”

  Mick didn’t know what to say. He snuck a quick look at Eddie and saw his old friend shutting down. “Whitney,” Mick said urgently.

  “No,” she said and held up her hand. “It’s true, Mick. Kids can have a mom and dad or two moms or two dads, but a combination of three? Yeah, right. Can you imagine how much teasing and bullying the kids would suffer?” She sniffled and pointed at them. “And what about you two? Do you honestly think the people you work with would accept the three of us?”

  Mick gulped as a painful lump stretched his throat. “Whitney,” he said honestly, “I don’t have the answers.”

  “Yeah, well, neither do I.” She rose slowly and gazed at both of them for a long moment before grabbing her purse and disappearing down the hall.

  He heard the telltale click of the lock on her bedroom door and cringed. Eddie’s Adam’s apple moved a few times as he tried to choke back tears. Mick had never seen the big man so obviously distraught. He took a step forward to console him, but Eddie threw off his hand as if it were offensive. “Don’t touch me.”

  Mick’s eyes widened. “Don’t touch you?” he repeated in shock. “What the hell did I do?”

  “This is all your fault.” Eddie poked a finger in Mick’s chest. “If you had just gone to the damn wedding, none of this would have happened.”

  “Eddie, it wouldn’t have mattered which one of us went with her tonight. She was going to have this reaction regardless.”

  Eddie’s jaw clenched. “Well, I hope you’re happy.”

  Mick threw his hands in the air. “Happy? Are you fucking serious? I’m devastated, Eddie.”

  “I don’t know why,” Eddie said as he gathered up his jacket. “We both know she’ll pick you.”

  Mick’s chest constricted as if squeezed by a vice. “That’s not true, Eddie.”

  “Isn’t it?” Emotional pain shadowed Eddie’s face. “They always do. Who the hell would choose me when they could have a rock-star doctor like you?”

  Eddie stormed out of the living room, and Mick’s vision skewed to the left. He nearly lost his balance as his world crashed down around him. He reached for the arm of the couch and righted himself before collapsing onto the leather cushion. His chest ached as heartbreak took hold.

  Nausea roiled in the pit of his stomach. It was all he could do not to break down into tears. With such finality it made him hurt, Mick realized he was going to lose everything this time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Whitney stepped into the cold confines of the bank and glanced around the lobby. This wasn’t her usual branch, but it was the closest one to her new office. It was the bank’s main LA location and suitably upscale inside. Lots of gleaming marble, modern gray furniture, and updated teller counters. She dug around in her purse for her wallet as she joined the shortest line.

  That morning she’d realized her paycheck still hadn’t hit her account. A couple of phone calls confirmed there was a problem with her direct deposit but not on the employer side of things. She’d contacted the bank, but they couldn’t
help her over the phone. It was an issue that had to be dealt with in person, of course.

  She fought with the plastic sleeve holding her bank account card. The copies of the direct-deposit paperwork were in the inner pouch of her purse. She pulled them out and returned her wallet to the dark abyss of her purse. Her gaze shifted around the busy bank. It was lunchtime and packed, which meant the lines were moving slowly, giving Whitney way too much time to think.

  For the last four days, thinking was something she’d done her best to avoid. That cringe-worthy night after the wedding played over and over again in her mind. She did everything possible to stay busy. Working late had never been such a relief. She’d thrown herself into brainstorming the branding for the new street-inspired Chess & Perry line. As a young girl obsessed with pop culture, Kadie was the ideal buyer, and she had so many great ideas. Whitney loved incorporating them.

  Working with Kadie was the perfect excuse to stay out of the house. She just couldn’t stand the weird vibes around the place. Eddie had been gone by the time she’d woken up that next morning, and she’d only seen him twice since. Both times, he’d remained tight-lipped and done his best to avoid her. He seemed to be working an awful lot of overtime.

  Mick wasn’t much better. He’d tried to talk to her over a very awkward breakfast, but she just couldn’t do it. He’d been kind and let the subject drop. A few times they’d tried to have a meaningful conversation, but nothing came of their attempts. In the end, they’d been reduced to text messages about picking up a gallon of milk or dealing with the neighbor whose dog crapped in the front yard again.

  Whitney hated to even consider it, but if the three of them couldn’t sit down and talk this out, she was going to have to find a new living situation. Perhaps it was a bit premature to be thinking about worst possible outcomes, but better to be prepared than tossed out on her ass, she figured. Frankly, Eddie and Mick had been an item before her and would probably continue after her. She was the interloper in this situation, and the only way she was coming out of this relationship was as a single woman.