I noticed another door on the wall facing out toward the dance floor. Both the wall and door appeared to be made of reflective glass or high quality Plexiglass, which allowed the room’s inhabitants to look out over the dance floor, but which—I guessed—obscured the room from the partygoers outside of it.
I glanced at the access code, then passed it to Matt, who read it and passed it to Marcus. Kerry was opening the champagne while checking out the lay of the club beyond the room. The music was muted, not nearly as loud as it had been in the main club, but Marcus found a switch on the wall that increased the volume or lowered it.
“It’s dark in here,” Kerry remarked, lifting her chin toward me. “Do you want some champagne?”
“No. I’m good. I think I might go find some water.”
“Should I press the button?” Matt asked, like the button was magic. Blarg! Must he be so cute? Must he?
I realized my sobriety was returning faster than I’d expected, and with my sobriety came awareness of how close he was standing to me. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go grab it from the bar.”
“Let me go,” Matt offered, leading me to one of the velvet couches and encouraging me to sit. He bent and brushed a kiss at the corner of my mouth, holding my gaze as he stood and untangled our fingers. “I’ll be right back with waters for everyone.”
Kerry deposited her champagne on the table, “I’ll go with you. I’m supposed to convince you to take that job.”
“It’s not going to happen.” Matt shook his head at her, opening the door for his ex, loud music from the club spilling into our little room.
I didn’t catch what she said as they left, but I thought it sounded like, “I don’t expect it to.” Or something like that.
Once the door shut, the sound from beyond once again muted, leaving me alone with Marcus and the poured glasses of champagne.
He was wandering around the room, as though looking for more switches. “Do you think there’s a light switch?”
“I think there must be. Why? Is it too dark?” Some of my earlier unease was reemerging now that the alcohol was leaving my system.
Had I really played footsie with Matt at the restaurant?
And why did I feel mostly obstinately pleased about it, rather than concerned?
“Nah.” He turned from his search and reclined on the couch across from mine. “Just curious. This is comfortable. I want one of these.”
I examined him, thinking, he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’s going to be happy with once-a-week missionary.
Yeah, it was a weird thought.
But it was also true.
Marcus seemed laid-back, but he was clearly smitten with his wife.
And before I could stop myself, I said, “I can’t believe how cool you are about Kerry and Matt spending time together.”
Marcus shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Aren’t you concerned about residual feelings? They were married for a while, right?”
“Six years I think. Maybe seven.”
“Exactly.”
“The answer is, no. I’m not worried. Not at all. They still care about each other, I know they do, but it’s purely platonic. Like, waaaay platonic. He’s not hot for her and I guarantee, she’s not hot for him.”
“How do you know?” I agreed with him based on what I’d witnessed thus far, but perversely, I wanted his perspective. Needed his perspective.
“Dudes know.”
That made me chuckle. “Sorry. That’s not going to cut it.”
Marcus inspected me as though debating whether or not I was trustworthy. Seemingly making his decision, he sat up on the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay. So, you didn’t hear this from me, but Kerry told me, during the last few years of their marriage, they didn’t have sex. And before that, they only did the deed—like—once a month.”
I blinked once, slowly. “That’s it?”
Matt had said they were indifferent to each other, and watching them over the course of the evening I saw mutual respect and admiration, but I hadn’t seen any signs of longing. So I didn’t know why I was pushing this issue now.
Other than maybe . . . I was trying to understand Matt better. And here was a rare opportunity with someone who had access to the inside scoop.
“Yeah. That’s it.”
“No, I mean, that’s why you think their feelings are platonic? Matt said they were both too busy, they never saw each other. Of course they weren’t humping like rabbits, they didn’t get a chance.”
Marcus was already shaking his head before I finished. “Her schedule isn’t any different now than it was then, and we’ve been together going on three years. I see her every night. Sure, she might get home late or work most weekends, but if she’s in town, I see her every day. And whenever we see each other, we’re humping like rabbits.”
I caught myself mid-eye-roll, instead closing my eyes and sighing.
“I’m telling you,” he continued unprompted, “neither of them wanted to do it with each other. Neither could relinquish control. The way she tells it, he’s a boss in the bedroom, and so is she—which is fine by me. But it didn’t work for them. It’s no fun fucking a control freak if you’re a control freak. What he needs is someone who’ll lie back and enjoy the ride,” he finished with a suggestive grin, though it wasn’t pointed at me. Clearly, he was thinking of himself and his wife.
Embarrassingly, my muscles had tightened when Marcus said, “he’s a boss in the bedroom,” and my mouth had grown inexplicably dry.
I lifted my eyes and found Marcus giving me a speculative look. “You two never . . . ?”
In comparison to Kerry’s earlier questions about doing it doggy style, I considered Marcus’s indirect question now relatively tame.
Yet I still felt a measure of embarrassment when I shook my head. “We’re just friends.”
He looked not exactly surprised, more like I’d revealed something critical about myself. “Huh.”
“What?”
“You dig him, right?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“No. You’re not, actually.” He chuckled. “That was a blind guess. Matt said you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. Friendly with everyone. I can’t get a read on you one way or the other.” He shook his head, then added under his breath, “But he is.”
That had me sitting straighter in my seat. “Matt? Is what?”
“Nah-ah. I’m not selling him out.”
“Matt? Selling Matt out?”
Marcus pressed his lips together, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
I was about to threaten him with a champagne bottle-related injury when I spotted Kerry walking up the stairs to the room, Matt trailing behind her; they both held four water bottles.
Marcus stood to open the door, giving me a teasing look and shaking his head, mouthing, “I’m not telling.”
“Oh man, we have to go dance. I demand we dance for the next two hours!” Kerry dumped the bottles on the couch where Marcus had been sitting, then grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room.
Meanwhile, Matt strolled in after her, moved to the side as she tugged Marcus out, and then crossed to one of the tables next to where I was sitting. He deposited three bottles on the table and uncapped the fourth, handing it to me.