by JA Huss
It’s perfect.
And it scares the shit out of me.
When we get back to the condo it’s after two in the morning. There is one light on in the sitting area and one light on in the kitchen, but it’s only an under-counter light, so it’s just a low glow. The rest of the house is dark and silent.
“What’s this?” Rochelle laughs, picking up a folded piece of paper propped up on the kitchen island. It says, Watch me. Underneath it is a tablet.
We take it to the couch and sink into the cushions, so close together, she’s almost in my lap.
Rochelle wakes the tablet and a still shot of a video comes up. It’s Bric and Adley, both smiling.
She presses the play button.
“Say hi to Mommy and Quin,” Bric says to the camera. He’s holding up one of Adley’s chubby hands, making her wave. “We wanted to show you what we did tonight.”
There is a ten-minute video chronicling their night together. Bric and Adley eating dinner. He’s got a piece of pizza in one hand, Adley cradled in his arm with the other. She’s drinking her bottle.
Then it’s bath time. She’s splashing in the super-deep tub in the master bedroom as Bric laughs and plays some kind of game with a rubber duck and a red block. He’s even using imaginative-play voices. Dumbass.
Then it’s story time. Which is interrupted by stinky diaper time. And even though Bric complains to the camera the whole time he deals with that unexpected detour, he handles it like a pro.
The last shot is of Adley sleeping in her new crib. Bric whispers, “She loves me,” into the camera. And then I hear him mumble, “I can’t wait for Christmas,” as he turns the camera off.
“That’s so adorable,” Rochelle says, kicking her feet up on the couch and laying her head in my lap. I play with her hair. We still smell like the pool, our night still fresh in my mind as she drifts off muttering, “I don’t think I really know Elias Bricman. I don’t think I know him at all.”
We get sleepy but we’re too tired to move. Finally, I pick her up, carry her in to the bedroom, undress us both, and we crawl in next to Bric.
He only wakes up long enough to hike a possessive leg over Rochelle’s hip and pull her close to his chest.
I let him have her now. I had her all night and while I might be a failure at a lot of things when it comes to relationships, I do know how to share.
So I share.
Chapter Twenty-One - Bric
“What?” I ask, looking up at Chella, then glancing down at the invoices again. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You’re in a good mood,” she says.
We’re sitting in the new tea room going over final details. The soft opening is this weekend. Chella has invited twenty-five people, but I don’t think it’s enough to do a proper assessment before the real opening next week.
“Did you get laid last night?”
“What?” I laugh. “Nope. Not even close. I spent the whole evening alone with Adley while Quin and Rochelle went on a date.”
“So that’s why you’re like this today.”
When I look up at her again, she’s got a crooked smile on her face. A knowing smile. “Like what today?”
“You’re glowing, Bric.”
I let out an actual guffaw at that. People turn to stare at us.
“You lost your baby virginity. Oh,” Chella says, placing her hand over her heart. “They grow up so fast.” She pretends to be overwhelmed with emotion, dabbing at fake tears in her eyes.
“Ha ha,” I say. “It was fun. She loves me, Chella. Like digs me, man. She laughs at all my jokes. She never whines when I change her diaper. She lets me play blocks with her and she enjoyed my version of The Princess and the Pea at bedtime. God, I wish I had known more about decorating nurseries before I bought all that stuff. I think I might need to redecorate. Don’t you think she needs a princess room?” Chella stares at me, her mouth half-open, like she was about to say something, then forgot what it was. “A Princess and the Pea room?” I clarify.
She still stares.
“What?” I ask.
“You…” she says. “You love kids.”
“No,” I huff. “I love my kid. Other people’s kids can fuck off.”
“No,” Chella counters. “You were a great Santa last year. You rocked it. I think you have the dad gene, Bric.”
I scratch my arm with a pen. “What’s that?”
“You’re a natural father. You have all the instincts.”
“Hmmm.” I consider this. “Well, I am pretty good at spooning those sweet potatoes into her moving mouth. I almost never get it in her eyeball.”
Chella smiles. “I might love you even more right now.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Elias Bricman, you will never cease to surprise me.”
I shrug. “Just my natural charm, I guess.”
“You guess? Well, I’d bet a million dollars—like I’d put up a million of my own dollars—if I could ask ten women from the Club if they think your list of qualifications includes the words ‘family man,’ if one of them—just one—said yes, I’d give that money to your favorite charity. What do you say?”
“What’s your point?” I ask.
“My point is, those words do describe you, Bric. But you’re so busy showing the world that you’re always in control, they think you’re nothing but a selfish asshole.”
“Nobody thinks that.” I laugh. “I give away billions of dollars a year.”
“Your company gives away billions of dollars a year. Elias Bricman gives away nothing.”
I think about this for a second. “I make personal donations. I think I probably make a lot—”
“I’m not talking about money, you oaf.” She’s shaking her head at me again. Like I’m ridiculous. “I’m talking about love.”
“I love people. I love you,” I say, winking at her.
“And Rochelle,” she says.
“Yeah, so?”
“And Adley. And Quin. And Smith.”
“There you go. That’s five fucking people right off the bat. Plus, I have a huge family. Seven brothers and four sisters. And like a bazillion cousins. I love all of them.”
“You come from a family of twelve kids?”
“Didn’t I ever tell you that? We could have our own TV show. You know, like those baby people do? The ones who never seem to stop fucking?”
She laughs loudly. It’s so nice to see her happy all the time. Smith is good for her. They are good for each other. “No, you never told me that. Where the hell are these people? Here?” Chella looks around like I might be hiding my family in the kitchen.
“Not here, you dingbat. They live up in Montana.”
“I… I’m… floored by this. I had no idea.”
“Well, the point is, I love lots of people. I grew up on a huge ranch. We have, like, our own town going on up there. It’s crazy. Twelve kids total. Abrem, Benjamin, Candace, Delilah, Elias—me.” I laugh, counting us up on my fingers, so I don’t forget anyone. “Then Felix, Gaius, Hannah, Isaac, Jason, Keren, and Luc is the baby. And every one of them is married but me. My baby sister, Keren, she already has three kids and she’s twenty-four. So—you’re wrong.”
“Your parents have an ABC theme for naming?” Chella is astounded. This is why I never tell people about myself. It’s weird. “And are those all Old Testament names? Are you like… Amish?”
I laugh again. “Jesus Christ, no. My parents were just… happily married, you know? And yeah, they go to church, but town is so far away. It’s not a big deal to miss. It’s just…” I sigh. There is no easy way to explain my family. “It’s just weird.”
“I have no words right now. Like seriously, you just floored me. Knocked me down. What the hell happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You own a sex club! Do your parents know that?”
“Do you think they know?” I laugh.
“Don’t they come see you? Don’t they like… look you up on t
he internet?”
“Turning Point isn’t on the internet. And no, they’re happy with my yearly end-of-summer visits. When you have twelve kids you don’t pay too close attention, you know?”
“But Smith is on the internet. You’re his partner.”
I shrug.
“And you hate kids.”
“I do hate kids. When I go home, it’s torture, man. I’m telling you. I have so many nieces and nephews, I can’t count them. They hang all over me. Uncle Elias, play with me. Uncle Elias, take me somewhere. Every year there’s like two new ones. I can’t keep up with it. It’s so complicated. I like simple, Chella. This life I have is simple. I am quite capable of love. I hand it out all over the place when I’m home. But when I come back here, to my own space, I like… peace. I want to be left alone.”
She takes a few moments to think about all this new information. “Is this why you like to share? It’s something you’re used to—growing up with all those siblings.”
I shrug. “I guess. I never thought about it much.”
“You’re practically a psychiatrist, Bric. You cannot tell me you’ve never psychoanalyzed yourself.”
“I have, but not about the sharing. The game is fun, that’s all. And I can walk away if I want. I can’t really walk away from my family, can I? They’re always there. There’s always drama. Kids are sick, parents are arguing, dishes are everywhere. It’s chaos, is what it is.”
“So you came down here to Denver to get away from them?”
“Maybe. I dunno. I didn’t think of it that way. I just didn’t want to get stuck out there on that ranch. It’s like sixty degrees below zero with wind chill in the winter, Chella. Have you ever birthed a cow at four AM in the dead of winter in Montana? It’s not fun. Not even close. Denver is nice. The climate is pretty mild. I have mountains here. I have everything I had there, except the stress.”
“I need to go up there and meet them.”
“Never.” I laugh. “Ever. That’s so not happening. Bric’s life and Elias’ life shall never meet. You don’t cross proton-pack streams, Chella. First rule of Ghostbusters. Bad things will happen.”
She ponders this, her eyes on mine, darting back and forth from one to the other. “So you’re never getting married?”
“Why do I need to get married? I have Quin, Rochelle, and Adley. That’s all I need.”
Her mouth is hanging open again.
“What?” I growl.
“But… this is temporary, right? I mean… Rochelle and Quin are… in love, aren’t they?”
“Sure,” I say. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Elias Bricman,” she scoffs. “You’re not that delusional, are you?” She just stares at me.
“What? Rochelle is happy. Quin likes me involved. And plus, Adley is mine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel it.” I shrug. “Anyway, didn’t you ever take physics?”
“What?” She laughs.
“It’s called quantum superposition and it goes like this—and this is one hundred percent true. Look it up. If you have a cat in a box and you don’t look inside to see if the cat is alive or dead, like there’s no possible way of knowing one way or the other unless you physically look, then it’s both alive and dead at the same time.”
“No…”
“Yes, for real. It’s been proven and shit. Reality depends on observation. On knowing things. So if we never know who Adley’s father is, then we’re both her father. It’s science. So she really is my daughter.”
“Until she’s not, Bric. If you guys do get the test, then you’ll know for sure.”
“But we’re not getting the test. So she is. We’ve locked her paternity in a box with the cat and none of us want to change that. I think we’re happy.”
Chella frowns. Takes a moment to think. “You know how you have that rule about the game? When the girl wants to leave you’re not allowed to follow?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, one of you will want to leave, Bric. Eventually. The world is not made for threesomes. It’s made for couples. You’re playing a game. It’s a very dangerous game because it was designed to end. One day it will end. You know that, right?”
I shrug her off and stand up to stretch and glance around, feeling the need to get back to work. “I’ll take my chances,” I say. And then I turn to walk away, but I stop, remembering why we’re here in the first place. “Invite more people to the soft opening. We need a better feel for a packed house.” I walk off, then call out over my shoulder. “Tell Smith I said hi.”
She’s wrong, I think. She’s wrong about the new game. It’s more than a game. We’re more than players. We’re professional players. We know how to handle it. We’ve been together for years. Quin is happy, I can tell. And Rochelle loves me. Maybe not the same way she loves Quin, but it’s up there. I’m in the running.
It won’t end.
I can’t end.
I love that baby.
She’s mine as long as we don’t open that box.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Rochelle
“You’re sure you’re OK?” I ask Quin.
“Hey,” he says. “We’re fine. I got this.” He’s holding Adley in his arms and she’s smacking his face with both hands. Each time she does it, he blinks and laughs. She squeals and wiggles.
They are adorable together. Does she look like him? I can’t tell. How do people tell? How do people say, Oh, she has your chin, or, Yes, those are your ears? I don’t get it. When I look at her and me in the same photo, I do see it. She does look like me. But Quin and Bric… I just don’t know. I can’t tell. It makes me sad.
“I have two bottles of milk in the fridge—”
“I know,” Quin says. “I heard all the last-minute directions the other night when we left her with Bric. Baby food on the counter if I’m up to it. Bath time, story time, bed time.”
“Plus, you’ve got my video if you need a cheat sheet.” Bric comes out of the bedroom adjusting his cufflinks. He’s in a tux. This is a formal event at a local historical mansion over on Pennsylvania Street for one of the charity things they do. It’s only like three miles away. Bric bought me a long black dress with a white fur cape. I have my hair in a loose updo, and the diamonds around my neck and wrists are heavy.
I have missed going out to fancy places. And the diamonds. Maybe more than I’d like to admit.
“Ready?” Bric asks, holding out my cape so he can drape it around my shoulders. I turn and the soft satin lining settles on my bare skin. It’s heavy and I’m glad. Because the dress is strapless and even though it’s not snowing tonight, it’s cold.
“I’m ready,” I say, smiling at him. “You look handsome.”
“You look stunning,” he replies, leaning into the back of my neck to give me a kiss.
“Go,” Quin says. “Have a good time. We’ll be here when you get home.”
Bric offers me his arm and we walk into the waiting elevator together. Quin is holding up Adley’s hand to wave at us, both of them smiling.
He deserves this time alone with her. Bric has had a lot more time with her than Quin. So it’s good for them both. But a part of me wants to stay behind. Share this night with Quin and Adley as they get to know each other, and not leave them behind.
Bric gives me the rundown on the party as we drive over to the mansion. I’ve been here before. Several times. All of them with Bric. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was at this same party the first two years we were together. That was something we did a lot. Go out. Quin and I never went out like this before. We stayed home or went fun places together, just the two of us. Bric was always the party guy.
The party is at a neoclassical mansion built in 1902. I remember this from the first time I was here. The third governor of Colorado built this house after he left office. Tonight, it’s lit up and festive when we arrive. More than a hundred people are dressed up in black and white. There is a dinner later, but for now we mingle. I se
e dozens of people I know. They all come up to me, elated that Bric and I are back together.
I wonder how many of them are Club members? I wonder how many of them know what we do in private?
All the women stare, but I can’t tell if they are staring at me or just appreciating the fact that Elias Bricman is hot. One woman in our small-talk party is scowling just a few feet away, so she is obviously looking at me. It doesn’t bother me. I’m not embarrassed by our relationship. So we’re a thriple. Who cares? I privately think they are all jealous. That woman, for sure. I would be, if I were her. Her husband is handsome, but not attentive. He’s busy chatting with the other men about golf as she stands there demurely. He’s ignoring her.
Bric is holding my hand, talking to me, even though I’m not even participating in the conversation. He brings me in. Includes me on purpose. Looks at me, not them.
Yes, she’s definitely jealous. I lean into Bric and he looks down at me, then brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.
I wonder what these people would think if three of us showed up, instead of two?
I smile, but don’t laugh, even though I want to.
Quin would not ignore me either. Both of my hands would be held at the same time. Both mouths would be kissing my knuckles. We’d take turns dancing. I’d sit between them as we ate dinner. They’d bring me festive, bubbly drinks. And delicious canapés. I’d never have a moment to myself.
It would be wonderful, I decide.
“How have you been, Rochelle?” the scowling woman asks. She leaves her husband’s side and comes over to stand next to me. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know. I’ve been gone,” I say. “I spent the last year at a resort, just being lazy and, you know… having a baby.”
“You have a baby?” she asks, surprised and smiling. “Well, that’s interesting. The last time I talked to your father, he didn’t mention it.”
My world stops. Simply ceases. Jesus Christ. I don’t show it, but holy fuck, I need to take a sip of my champagne to gather myself. Who is this woman?
“No,” I say. Once I swallow the warm fizzing liquid I’m collected again. “I don’t speak to him.”
