by Kent, Julia
Knees bent slightly, he braced himself as her other hand slowly lowered his zipper, unclasped the button, and then she spoke with perfectly articulated words:
“Just don’t ask me to obey.”
Josie
Josie held Noi’s leash like it was a rabid skunk.
“I cannot believe he got into the lake,” she tsked.
“I knew this would happen,” Alex muttered, giving her a disapproving side-eye. “It’s all your fault.”
“My fault?” They trudged up the steps to Meribeth and John’s house. Alex opened the front door for her, Noi walking slowly, as if he knew he were about to be chastened.
Or worse—bathed.
“I should never have let go of the leash.”
“That’s right—your fault.”
“You had me by the balls, Josie. Literally.”
She turned bright red and looked at a spot over his shoulder. He turned around.
Meribeth.
With eyebrows so far up her face they might as well have been a hat.
“What are you—oh, no! What happened to Noi?” she asked, bending down awkwardly to check out the coffee-colored dog.
Who chose that exact moment to shake himself vigorously, spraying mud spatters all over Meribeth’s face, chest, and arms.
Josie’s eyes widened with horror. Alex stood stock-still and speechless. John entered the room just as Noi shook, his collar jingling with the effort, and all the humans just stared.
If that had just happened to Josie’s mother, Marlene would have taken to screaming, blaming Josie, shaming Josie, threatening to get rid of the dog and finding three past transgressions to rub in Josie’s face, too.
With that kind of baggage burrowed deep in her psyche, Josie found it hard even to look at Meribeth, whose mouth was in an “O” of surprise, little mud smudges dotting her lipsticked lips.
And then she began to giggle. Meribeth’s head bent down, her chest shaking, the draping folds of her multicolored jacket shimmering with motion.
“Oh, my,” she gasped as she laughed. “I should have known better than to bend down and greet a muddy dog.”
Josie’s face morphed into confusion.
Blaming herself? In what universe did a mother blame herself for something like this?
Alex and John reached down to help Meribeth stand, each taking one arm. “You know,” John said though a mixture of laughter and snickering, “we did just clean the hot tub yesterday. I can fire it up. You take a quick shower and we can jump in.”
That sounded like a big cue for Josie and Alex to leave.
Besides, they had some unfinished business. Well, Alex had finished. Josie, on the other hand…
Marriage? Alex’s talk about marriage made her insides turn to pudding. She knew that they were on that journey, but figured it was a three-thousand-mile journey and they were still on their first tank of gas—not getting ready for the final leg before reaching the destination.
“You kids want to join us?” Meribeth asked, holding her hands out from her body, laughter dying down. She looked at Josie in earnest. “It’s a nice night to relax and get wet.”
Alex turned a choking laugh into a fake cough. Josie loved how dirty his mind was.
“Um, no…thanks. Thanks, Mom,” he said, wrapping an arm around Josie’s shoulders. “In fact, I have to be at the hospital at seven, so we need to go home and get to bed.”
Hell yes, we do, Josie thought. And by the way, Alex, not only will I not obey, I’m keeping my last name.
John looked pleased with Alex’s explanation. You old horn dog, Josie thought, then realized John wasn’t that old. Not really.
Alex’s phone buzzed, and Josie made a fake weeping sound as he checked it. The only time he received calls was from his mom (who was right in front of him), her (ditto) or—
“Shit. A patient emergency.”
Meribeth frowned. Josie wanted to cry for real. Seriously? Her clit was an emergency, too.
They said their goodbyes, and within twenty minutes Josie found herself alone in their apartment, a quick kiss on the cheek delivered in the front seat of the still-running car about as much action as she was getting tonight.
She cast a reluctant glance at the drawer in the bedside table.
Time to make her own bzzzz.
* * *
Alex slipped between the sheets like a sex thief in the night, there to steal an orgasm or three from her. Swollen and spent from taking matters into her own hands (quite literally), she merely snuggled against his warm, naked form and settled back into sleep.
His nose nudged against her inner thighs and she murmured, “Seriously? Your timing sucks. I just took care of things—” she opened one eye and waited a beat for focus to come into play so she could read the bedside clock “—three hours ago.”
“That was just the warmup. The actual game is about to start.” His tongue licked slowly along the crevice between her thighbone and—
“Oh!”
“You’re so slick,” he said in amazement, the words muffled by, well, her.
“Orgasms tend to do that,” she answered with a laugh that turned to a groan. “And you don’t have to do that,” she whispered, guiding his chin up. He followed, nude body like a muscled statue come to life, all hot flame and taut skin.
“I want you in me,” she whispered, body primed, her mind playing images of his body entwined with hers, the movie in her imagination about to unroll in real time.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
And so it was done, with fluidity that seemed too good to be true, his enormity touching both her cervix and soul with a completeness that made her forget that she was ever fragmented. Sex could be touching and silly, playful and messy, awkward and revealing, and it was all of those with Alex.
Sometimes at the same time.
Whatever part of her felt self-conscious could co-exist with the sensual beast she became at times. As an old friend had once said, she could experience both/and instead of either/or.
When she and Alex were together, the black and white of her life blended into the most spectacular, nuanced shades of grey. Some of which exploded behind her closed eyelids, burst blood vessels in her neck and face, and made her muscles clench so hard it seemed the fibers cried out Alex’s name in passion, until her twin strands of DNA curled in and under like her body, all lust and need, all animal and faith.
Learning to be both/and took courage. Alex’s long, hard body separated slowly from hers as he rolled onto his back and leaned toward her, carefully pulling the covers over them, knowing she was always cold. The gesture made her soul sing.
“I love you,” he mumbled as sleep took over his body, steady breaths pouring out of his chest within seconds.
“I love you, too,” she whispered easily.
So easily.
* * *
“He said the word marriage?” Laura asked. Josie could hear her friend on the other end of the call, brewing coffee. Josie was stuck in the office, her morning spent talking with some software developer who was designing the database they would use to match people. If she heard him talk about Netflix and relational data one more time she was going to go hire a yenta to just hand-match people for her.
“Yes.”
“Did you faint?”
Obligatory eye roll, even if Laura couldn’t see it. “No.”
“SQUEE! You’re gonna marry Alex, you’re gonna marry Alex!”
“Guh! Guh!” Josie heard Jillian squealing in the background.
Laura sighed. “At least you can get married to the person you love.”
“So can you!” Where was this coming from?
“Not both of them.”
“True. But you can marry one of them.” Josie’s words rang hollow.
A long sigh filled the phone, a pain-infused sound that made Josie feel helpless. This morning she’d been abandoned by Alex for a twin c-section gone wrong, and today she had called Laura to talk.
“I can’t, you know? Marry one. Because then it’s picking a favorite, and neither one of them is my favorite. I love them both.”
“You don’t favor one of them over the other? Not even a tiny bit? It’s okay if you do,” Josie said in her best non-judgmental, soothing voice.
A harsh laugh was the only response. “Darla and I talked about this at lunch. It’s…hard to explain to someone who’s not…you know,” Laura answered, a soft slurp echoing on the phone as she—Josie imagined—drank her coffee.
“I told you having lunch with Darla would help!” Josie crowed triumphantly.
“You were right,” Laura muttered.
“I’m sorry—what was that?” Josie asked loudly. “You said something and I didn’t quite hear it.”
“You were right.”
“Again?”
“Shut up.”
“Tut up!” Jillian screeched in the background.
“Damn it,” Laura mumbled.
“Jammit! Jammit!”
Josie laughed so hard she began to cough uncontrollably.
“Now I’m a hypocrite,” Laura whined, “because I’m always after the guys not to curse in front of her.”
“You’re not a hypocrite,” Josie gasped. “You’re only human.”
“And a woman who can’t marry the loves of her life.”
“Why all the talk about marriage? It’s not just because Alex mentioned it.”
“No. It’s not,” Laura admitted.
“It’s the Frank mess, isn’t it? You’re talking about legalities, visited a lawyer…”
“Yes,” Laura said, her exhale stretching like verbal taffy. “He made that stupid comment about sin, and how Jillian’s not being raised properly, and it got my mind spinning a million miles an hour. So I talked Mike and Dylan’s collective ears off for days, and we realized that if I died, Jillian’s biological father would get custody of her, but if I go on and have more kids with both guys, then—”
Josie got it instantly.
“—if a bio dad and I died, the other dad would be—”
“Screwed,” Josie said with a low whistle.
“Huh. Well, sort of. Technically, Dylan’s biological children would go to his parents. And Mike’s would—”
She shivered. “Go to his. But he hasn’t talked to them in years!”
“The law doesn’t care,” Laura said in a low voice. “And Frank is my next of kin.”
“What? I thought your father was.”
“Good luck finding him.”
Josie frowned. “You’re talking about marriage because you’re worried Frank would try to get his hands on Jillian for her money?” She tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice, but failed.
“I know! I know it sounds crazy. It is crazy. But it’s also…possible? A slim chance means we have to do something to protect Jillie. Mike and Dylan sorted out the money and trusts when she was born, but custody in the event of a nightmare…we never factored that in.”
Josie swallowed, hard, and said, “You know Alex and I would raise her. If you…you know.”
“Died?”
“If you wanted me to raise her,” Josie said, clearing her throat gently. Tears sprang in her eyes, surprising her. In that moment her heart felt too tight and too big all at once, like it was being squeezed and peeled open at the same time. She didn’t like thinking about her best friend being dead. But she also realized that her offer was a sign of progress, too.
She and Alex, acting as parents…
“I love you,” Laura said sweetly through the phone, her voice shaking slightly. “I know what it means to have you make that offer.”
“But you don’t think I’m capable of raising a potted plastic plant, much less your child,” Josie said, a joke in her voice.
“Ha ha. No, it’s that you’re not a blood relative. To any of us. Frank, Dylan’s parents, even Mike’s parents, have more legal claim than you.”
“Not fair.”
“I know,” Laura sighed.
And then it hit Josie. “I think I know a way you can get the highest degree of legal protection for Jillian. And keep her and your future children together in case you and one of the guys dies.”
“How?” Laura’s eager voice made Josie’s heart flail in her chest.
“Have them get married.”
“Them? Who—oh. Oh, God…no. Josie, no.” A series of weird gasps and groans, chokes and sputtering noises filled Josie’s ear. Had Jillian wrestled the phone from Laura?
“Laura?” she asked.
A great whoop of laughter was her reply.
“Josie! Oh, oh, oh you’re crazy! Mike and Dylan get married?”
“Why not?” she answered, a defensive tone in her voice. “It’s legal in Massachusetts. And then each guy would be the legal stepfather to the other’s kids.”
The laughter stopped abruptly.
“You sure about that?”
“Um, pretty much. That’s how it works in hetero marriage, right?”
Laura went quiet. Josie’s brain raced. Maybe this could work. Perhaps this was the answer.
“I don’t know,” Laura said, voice filled with skepticism. “But I do know the number for the lawyer we used for the wills and trusts. I think it’s time for a brief consultation.”
“Just do me one favor,” Josie begged.
“What?”
“Don’t tell them this was my idea.”
Laura sucked in a sharp dose of air, the sound splitting Josie’s eardrum. “Right. Dylan will shit a brick if you bring this up.”
“I think he could shit enough to build a tornado shelter with this idea. Then again, it’ll be pretty obvious it was my idea, so forget what I said. I’ll take the hit.”
Laura looked like she was a million miles away. “I still wish I would have them both.”
“You do have them both,” Josie said in a soothing tone. Funny how she couldn’t care less about being married to Alex. The institution itself didn’t seem to matter to her. If they were together, it was enough, and she didn’t need a piece of paper to prove it.
Yet…when she put herself in Laura’s shoes, and imagined being told she couldn’t marry the person(s) she loved, a fireball of resentment and sorrow filled her.
“If they marry each other it’s to show that what all three of you created is so real they have to find a crazy legal maneuver to protect it.”
“That’s one angle I hadn’t thought of.” Laura’s voice turned from despondent to pensive.
“In the end, it’s all about love,” Josie said, feeling like a Hallmark card.
“Love. Right.” Laura made a dismissive noise. “Then why is this so hard?”
“Because love is never enough.”
“Thanks, Ms. Merry Sunshine.”
Josie smiled even though Laura couldn’t see it. “I don’t mean that love isn’t amazing. Just that it’s work. Hard work. And when you do the hard work together, you create even more love.”
Laura went silent. Seconds ticked by, making Josie wonder if she’d said the wrong thing.
A long exhale, and then:
“The Beatles had it wrong.”
Chapter Six
Dylan
“Can we go anywhere but Jeddy’s for once?” Alex asked in a voice that brooked no argument. “I do not relish hearing Madge talk about the latest unicorn butt plug she bought.”
“How about we just talk while we lift? Blow out our bodies then hang in the sauna?” Dylan answered as he finished putting forty-fives on the olympic bar, locking in a good three hundred pounds for squats. To start.
“They have a killer smoothie bar here, too,” Mike added.
“What about an espresso bar?” Alex asked.
Dylan forced himself to take a deep, invigorating breath. Nothing like being in a gym to give you the feeling like you were swimming through testosterone soup. He considered himself a fairly strong guy, but felt like a wimp a
s he took a good look around the room.
He was smack-dab average.
“You need protein and amino acids after you blow out your quads, dude,” Mike said, wiping his face with a hand towel. He’d looked like he’d just gone for a five-mile sprint in the rain, and his biceps bulged, veins like extension cords slid under tanned skin.
“And caffeine,” Alex answered mildly.
Dylan laughed. “Last thing you want after you puke your guts out from doing squats is caffeine.”
Alex began to fidget nervously, making Dylan laugh inside. Laura and Josie joked about Dr. Perfect and how unflappable he was. Good to see the man could be rattled.
Without having to run into a parking sign to do it.
The scar above Alex’s eye was mild, but Dylan could find it easily, and as Mike eased into the squat cage, Alex spotting him, Dylan marveled at how different life was now for everyone.
Every damn one of them.
Including Frank.
Mike made it through seven squats before Dylan and Alex helped lift the bar for him. Alex took some of the weight off and did his own lunges, making it through three sets of increasing weight, though never reaching Mike’s power.
Dylan, on the other hand, blew Mike out of the water.
“How in the hell does he do that?” Dylan heard Alex’s voice rise with surprise.
“He eats his Wheaties,” Mike joked. Dylan was shorter than Mike but came damn close to matching him in weight, muscled body holding so much restrained molecular power. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t grin—as much as he wanted to—but instead popped back up to rack the bar and move slowly until the black pinpricks left his vision.
The adrenaline rush was worth it.
Gotta love endorphins. Even the ones that didn’t involve sex.
But especially the ones that did involve sex.
Guzzling half his bottle of water, Dylan took in the room while Mike racked weights for Alex, who had something to prove.
“You okay, doc?” Dylan joked. “Don’t want you to tear a nail on those surgeon’s hands.” He actually liked Alex. Stand-up guy. But he had to bust his balls a little, right? The three of them spent so much time chatting at Jeddy’s and being directed by women that it was good to be in a man’s world (female lifters excepted). Even just for a few hours.
