by KD Robichaux
“What in the world is that?” Mia asks, and I give her a grin. “And what’s wrong with your face?”
My smile falls and I touch my cheek. “What do you mean?”
She sets her bag down on the countertop and lifts a brow in question. “That expression does not match the person who called me half an hour ago absolutely falling apart.”
“Ah.” I nod. “You see, what happened was… I seemed to have stumbled upon not only some self-awareness, but also this bottle of vodka. And I happened to learn very recently that my pallet loves vodka and cranberry juice. Would you like to partake with me, dear sister?” I ask, and she eyes me suspiciously.
“I’ll make a deal with you. You actually open up and tell me about this so-called self-awareness, and I’ll drink as much of that vodka as you want,” she offers, and I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
“Deal.” I pull down two glass tumblers and line them up on my island, figuring a mixed drink would probably be wiser to start with than the shots. I grab the cranberry juice out of the door of the fridge and the little plastic squeezy thing of lime juice, since I don’t have any fresh limes, and mix our drinks.
“You’ve been adventurous with your drinks the past couple months,” she points out.
I nod. “Well, I kind of missed out on my party years of life, since I was married and had twins when I was twenty-one, and since Mike never let me have anything but wine, it’s been fun trying out all the things I should’ve done years ago.”
“In the last seven months that you two have been separated, have you started to realize what a controlling asshole he was?” she asks, sliding her drink closer to her from across the island and taking a tentative sip. She licks her lips and lifts her brows, her expression one of pleasant surprise. She’s normally a wine drinker, but by choice.
“Oh, honey. I knew what a controlling asshole he was long before we separated. I just chose to deal with it to keep the peace around here instead of fighting about it.”
She looks at me with sad eyes then drinks some of her cocktail. “That’s… depressing, sis. You lived that way for a whole decade of your life.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, pointing to her with the same hand I’m holding my drink in while I use the other to pour vodka into the two shot glasses. “How about… we play a little game? Truth or Dare, but without the dare, because I’m too old for that shit.”
She eyes me, and then she snorts when she detects I’m being serious. “For real?”
“For real,” I assure her, knowing she’ll jump on the opportunity. She’s always giving me hell for keeping everything close to the vest, and this will be her chance to get a lot of her questions answered. I’m done keeping everything in. I’m done holding in my pain, my anger, my doubts, my wants and needs. For the first time in my life, I want to spill and vent. And who better to do that with than the woman I’m closest to in the world, my sister? She’s the closest thing I have to a real best friend, and she deserves some answers after everything she’s given up for me.
I slide one of the shot glasses over to her, then lift mine up between us. “To… not needing a man. As long as I have my sister and my babies, I have everything I need in the world,” I cheers, but even as I say the words, a flash of Winston’s handsome face crosses over my mind’s eye, and I blink rapidly to get rid of the image. I refuse to think about him right now.
“I can cheers to that. To not needing a man.” She gives me a cringing smile. “But it’s okay to maybe… want one.”
My eyebrows shoot up at that as I clink my glass with hers, and we tap the bottoms on the island, then swallow the ounce of clear liquor. Mia sticks out her tongue and hisses, and I take a swig of my cocktail. “And what man are we speaking of that you might want, sister mine?”
“Talon Mayson,” she singsongs, sipping her vodka and cranberry.
“The guy who’s been stalking you at the dealership since literally protecting you comic-book-superhero style during the tornado?” I prompt.
She nods. “The one and only.” A pause. “He asked me to go on a date with him this coming Saturday.”
“And what did you say?” I ask, leaning down to prop my elbows on the countertop and resting my chin on my fists, blinking and giving her my undivided attention.
“Well, we kind of got…. Oh, shit! I forgot!” She jumps up from the stool, grabs her keys out of her purse, and I giggle as she wobbles, making her way to the front door in a not-straight line.
A few moments later, she returns, locking the door behind her. In her hand is a to-go box, and when she gets back up on her stool, she opens the lid, and before me is a stack of chocolate chip pancakes. “I was at dinner with Talon when you called earlier. He told me I should bring these home for you.”
I look from the pancakes up to my sister then back down again, my mouth open in astonishment. “That man is a saint. Marry him now,” I tell her, and I pull out the drawer next to me and grab a fork. I cut a triangle into the stack and take a bite, moaning at the carby goodness.
Mia giggles then shakes her head. “Which reminds me, I promised I’d let him know when I got home safe,” she adds, taking her phone out and tapping along the screen while I take a bite of pancakes then wash it down with the rest of my cocktail. “Shit. It died while it was sending.” She shrugs. “I’ll message him before bed.”
“Wait… you were at dinner with Talon? I thought you said he asked you out for Saturday,” I point out.
“It was really just stopping for food on our way back to the dealership. Long story short, we went on a test drive, and while we were out, he got a call that his dad was in the hospital. We drove straight there, and I went and traded the Jeep he was testing for his actual truck. I waited there once I got back to the hospital, just to make sure he was okay. When he came down, he offered to take me back to work to get my car but stopped for food on the way. And here I am.” She shrugs.
“And I totally ruined it. God. Will I never cease to stop sucking?” I pout, leaving my chin resting on one fist while I use the other to pour two more shots.
“Hey, wait a second. How did this game turn into only me answering questions? This was supposed to be my chance to get some answers out of you, big sis.”
“The squirrels,” I tell her, widening my eyes at her for emphasis before sliding one of the shot glasses back over to her. “Ask away.”
She looks at the glass warily but then raises it in salute. “To being open and honest, not just sisters but best friends,” she says, and I get a little choked up that she said out loud the same thing I was thinking only minutes ago.
“Not just sisters but best friends,” I repeat, and we clink our glasses, tap the bottoms on the countertop, and shoot them.
“Good. Now. When was the last time you had sex?” she asks, and I really do choke then as I try to swallow some of my second cocktail. She cackles, taking a swig from her tumbler and wiggling on her barstool in glee.
I shake my head at her. “You couldn’t ease me into it? You had to go straight for the naughty bits, huh?”
“No lube,” she adds, and I burst out laughing when her hand slaps over her mouth, her eyes going wide.
“Well alrighty. Um… well, let’s do some math, shall we?” I prompt, and she nods.
“Use those college algebra hours!” she declares, and I chuckle.
“Okay, Mike and I have been separated seven months.”
“Yep,” she says, holding up seven fingers. “And before then, we hadn’t had sex iiiinnn…” I look to the ceiling, trying to remember the last time he and I were actually intimate, doing my best to keep the image of Winston out of my head, because technically we didn’t have sex. Dry humping until I had the most spectacular orgasm of my life is not sex, so technically I did not have sex with a man who is still married and not legally separated. So there. “If I remember correctly, it was around the Fourth of July, I believe.”
Her jaw drops. “Um, Cece.”
I sip my drink. “Mm h
m?”
“That’s like… over a year ago.”
I shrug. “In the words of the great Elle Woods—‘What? Like it’s hard?’”
“Was he like… trying to initiate anything during that time, or do you think he was cheating all the way back then?” she asks, and my gut churns a little thinking about it.
“Well, on the rare occasion he would try to have sex, I wasn’t in the mood. At the end of the day after the girls went to bed, I’d be exhausted and would just want to go to sleep. Plus, it’s not like he was physically affectionate any other time of the day. No random hugs or kisses. No playful butt grabs or anything. Not that I wanted that anyway. Over the years, whether it was from having three kids climb all over me twenty-four seven or what, I didn’t really like being touched, sexually or otherwise. When Mike would try, it would seriously make my skin crawl. And I felt guilty for that, like I was the worst wife ever, but I didn’t do it on purpose.” I scoff. “No wonder he went and found someone else. I was a fucking ice queen.”
Mia slams down her glass, making me jump. “No, ma’am. You’re not doing that. If Mike had a problem with his wife not wanting physical intimacy, then he should’ve talked to you about it. He should have asked if you wanted to go… I don’t know, see a therapist or something. He shouldn’t have just gone out and found it from someone else. It’s not your fault he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
“Understood,” I say, holding my hands up in defense.
“Good. Now. It’s always seemed to me like you were completely shocked by his infidelity. Since hindsight is 20/20, has anything registered in your mind now that could’ve hinted at the fact that he was cheating?” she asks curiously, sipping the last of her drink, and I refill it for her.
I shrug once again. “We fought… a lot.”
“Really?” Her voice shows her astonishment. “I don’t think I ever once saw you two fight. I don’t recall ever hearing you even bicker.” She pulls her puckered lips to the side as she ponders. “Now that I think about it, that’s weird, Cece. Very Stepford Wives.”
I touch my nose then point to her. “Ding, ding, ding! You nailed it. All arguing was saved for later, when we could do it in the privacy of our bedroom where we thought no one could hear us.”
“What did you fight about? What could he possibly have had to complain about?” she asks, rolling her eyes.
“He didn’t think I did enough with the girls, and—”
“What!” she yells, and I shush her.
“You’re gonna wake up the girls,” I hiss.
She slouches on her stool. “Sorry,” she whispers. “But what the fuck?”
“Instead of letting them spend time with me, learning how to cook, playing together, maybe watching TV and cuddling with them on the couch, he thought I should’ve been hauling them around to more extracurriculars instead of just the twice-a-week ballet class they were in. He didn’t see the value in them spending time with their mom instead of paying someone else to teach them things, since his parents always had his schedule packed full of tutors and golf coaches so they wouldn’t have to deal with him.” I shake my head. “They didn’t even take him to his classes themselves. They had his nanny do it, and it wasn’t because they both worked. His mom was too busy at the country club while his dad was always on ‘business trips.’” I put down my drink long enough to make air quotes.
Mia scoffs. “Well, we see how well that turned out for him. We may have daddy issues, but sounds like Mike might have some skewed sense of how you should treat your loved ones himself.”
My eyes instantly well at that, and through the tears, I see the immediate regret mask my sister’s face.
“Oh my God, Cece. I’m so—”
I cut her off. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s just… you’re right. I realized the other day that the whole reason I ran off at eighteen and got married and immediately had babies in the first place was because I was trying to fill some void that Dad left. There was this man-shaped hole in my life that for some reason I thought I needed to fill with a husband. Which is extra fucked up, because we had Chaz, who was more than deserving of the ultimate father-figure award.”
She reaches across the island and grasps the hand not brushing away the tears from my cheeks. “You were young. And Mike had us all fooled. He seemed perfect, this rich knight in shining armor who swooped in with promises of a fairy tale, while we were… not poor, but definitely not loaded by any means. We all thought he was too good to be true, and unfortunately it turned out we were right. It wasn’t just you, sis.”
I nod and squeeze her hand back, sniffling. “Any more questions?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I think that’s enough for one night. That and I don’t think I need anymore vodka. You neither. Hopefully unloading all this will help you get a good night’s sleep. And I hope we can keep this communication open between us in the future.”
I bite my lip to hide my guilt. There are so many other things I’m keeping from my sister—my feelings for and what I did with Winston, the fact that I’ve maxed out all my credit cards to pay for all the bills so I don’t have to ask anyone for any more help. Hell, she doesn’t even know I’ve filed for divorce yet. How the hell will I explain that Winston put up the cash for it? Why would any boss pay for their employee’s divorce? But even worse would be having to explain we have feelings for each other, and then telling her that he gave me a loan. It’s just a clusterfuck of a situation I don’t feel like hashing out with anyone right now. So that’ll just have to wait.
All I say is “Me too” and leave it at that.
She smiles at me, and then we spend a few minutes finishing off the pancakes. Mia grabs a bottled water out of the fridge to take to the couch with her, claiming she’s going to watch an episode of Ancient Aliens, while I stand at the counter downing a couple glasses of water before cleaning up our mess. When I go to bed, I do feel a sense of relief for having talked to my sister about my past, getting to vent about Mike. But a weight still lies heavy on my shoulders knowing I’ll have to spill a lot more in the very near future, seeing as Mike is getting served with papers tomorrow.
That thought would’ve normally kept me up all night with a sense of impending doom, but with the vodka easing through my veins, my eyes grow heavy and I fall right to sleep.
14
Cece
Something exciting happened today. Aside from it being a rare day off, in which I spent the morning and afternoon catching up on school work and even getting ahead on some assignments, there was a gentleman caller for my sister at our house.
While I woke up pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for once, Mia was hungover as hell. She attempted to get up this morning, but she looked like death warmed over, so I sent her back to bed and called her boss, Ken, letting him know she was sick and wouldn’t be in today.
Not long after, there was a knock at the front door, and lo and behold one of the most good-looking men I’d ever seen stood on my porch. He was handsome, rugged, covered in tattoos, but still, he didn’t do it for me the way Winston does. Which is a good thing, because he turned out to be Talon Mayson, the man my sister totally had the hots for but was still trying to play it cool.
He brought her food and got her out of bed, and when Ruby and I went to pick the big girls up from their first practice for the school play they both got parts in, the last thing I saw was Talon and Mia getting her dogs Mercury and Retro ready to go on a walk.
Now, hours later, after putting the girls to bed, I signal for Mia to follow me back downstairs. I know she’s probably ready for bed after we binge-watched several episodes of The Goldbergs, but that’s too bad. I want some girl time with my sister after seeing her get all gooey over Talon.
We reach the kitchen, and she takes a seat at the island while I go to the cabinet to grab two cups and fill them both with water from the fridge. After our drinking party for two last night, water is the only thing I feel like swallowing at the moment. The mere thought of
more alcohol makes me vomitty.
“So… Talon.” I grin, leaning against the counter across from her and placing the cups between us. She buries her face in her hands, and my grin widens. “I know you told me how hot he was, but I so did not believe you.” She lifts her head at that. “I mean, he even gives my boss Winston a run for his money, and that’s really only because his name is Winston, and no man who looks like him should be named Winston.” My chest fills with heat at the thought of him and what we did, my belly immediately erupting with butterflies, even though there’s a shadow of remorse hanging overhead after finding out he’s married.
“You think Winston is hot?” The shock in her voice lets me know I’ve done a damn good job thus far not letting on to my secret infatuation with my boss. Good, then there’s no way she’d be able to tell I almost slept with him. I can still take that fuck-up to the grave.
I make a show of blowing her off. “Everyone thinks Winston is hot. It doesn’t matter if you have a vagina or a penis.” Which is 100 percent accurate. He gets hit on by all genders every night, and he handles everyone with grace. There’s not an ounce of the toxic kind of masculinity in that man’s body, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he kindly turns down come-ons even from men.
“This is true,” Mia agrees. “But I didn’t think you noticed.”
I pout at that. I may be a mom of three who’s had an abnormally low libido for the past several years—before being in close proximity to my boss—but damn, I’m not dead. “Umm, how could I not notice? He’s Winston. He kind of steals the spotlight, even if he’s not trying. But he’s also married,” I confess, feeling the need to relieve a bit of my guilt that built up before bed last night, even if I’ll keep it close to the vest that I let him do filthy things to me only days ago.
“He’s married?” she gasps, the same reaction I had inside me when I found out.
“He is. And his wife came into the restaurant yesterday making a scene, and let’s just say she’s not very nice.” I wave away the memory, wanting to get back to the subject of Talon. “But we’re not talking about Winston. We’re talking about Talon, who is as hot as his name and totally into you.”
