“Yeah, well, I’d been thinking about you,” for about ten seconds before I called, “and finally decided to ask you out.”
“I’m glad you did,” she smiled sweetly. “You’ve been on my mind quite a bit since we met.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, hitting her with my signature smile that girls usually couldn’t resist. Tone it down. You’re on a date, not ho hunting. I relaxed my lips into a slight grin before continuing. “Thinking all good things, I hope.”
“Definitely good things.”
The waiter arrived with our drinks, and we continued with casual conversation. The more we talked, the more I liked her. She was down-to-earth, easy-going, and even funnier than I remembered. All of my reservations had nearly slipped away. That is, until I watched her reach for her wine glass midway through dinner.
“Uh, Alison, this is probably a weird question, but,” I lowered my voice slightly, “are you married?”
She set her wine glass back down and eyed me curiously. “Why would that be a weird question?”
“Because I . . .” What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? “I don’t think women usually wear rings on their left ring finger unless they’re married.”
“I don’t think they do either.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. What the hell is going on here? “So that means you are married?” Why is she still fucking eating? This chick is out of her mind.
“Yeah, I’m married. I thought you knew that.”
“Why the hell would I know that?” I couldn't believe this. I mean, for all I knew, I’d banged dozens of women who were married, but that was all one-and-done type of shit. I was actually trying to date this girl, and here she was, somebody’s goddamn wife. It suddenly occurred to me why I’d had that image when she first showed up. Satan really had been carving my name in a chair. Too bad I was already fucking sitting in it.
“I was wearing this ring when we met, Max. I’m left handed and was putting makeup on you. I figured you saw it.”
I wanted to defend myself by screaming that my attention hadn’t exactly been on her hands, but I didn’t think that would help this nightmare. “Well, I didn’t.” I was appalled, and that almost never happens.
“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” She looked genuinely confused, and I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to take her to the nearest hospital for a psych eval.
“Why am I—? Because it is a big deal, Alison. You’re cheating on your husband. With me. I have enough bullshit going on without your marital drama adding to the pile.”
“The only one creating drama is you.” Her tone was clipped and annoyed.
Is this bitch seriously pissed at me?
“And I’m not cheating on my husband. He knows exactly where I am.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but her words sunk in and caused me to slump back in my chair before I could utter a sound. I just sat there and stared across the table at her. This night had been going so well. How had it gone so wrong so quickly? Alison glared at me, waiting for me to say something. Finally, I did. “So let me get this straight. You’re not only married and out on a date with me, but your husband is aware of this and is, what, okay with it?”
“Yes, Max. It isn’t that uncommon. We both have our individual needs, and we allow the other to satisfy those needs elsewhere. It keeps our marriage fresh and drama-free.”
“How does dating other people keep drama out of your relationship? You guys don’t mind sharing each other with other people?” I didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the best of me. I mean, in theory this was the kind of marriage that would appeal to a guy like me. But I couldn’t imagine another dude boning my wife. It would probably hurt as much as it does when I imagine Lily with Adam. I lurched forward and rubbed my hands over my face. Like I really needed that fucking thought right now. Just when I thought the night couldn’t get worse, my brain had to prove me wrong.
“Well, we have certain rules,” Alison said, answering the question I’d forgotten I’d even asked.
“Rules?” I asked in disbelief. Why was I still having this conversation? Part of me didn’t want to know, but part of me had to know—the degenerate part of course.
She leaned in and smiled conspiratorially, like she was about to share a national secret with me. “Yeah, rules. Like the spouse has to approve of the other person. My husband was almost as excited as me when I told him about you,” she said with a wink.
I wanted to throw up.
“We need to be safe: condoms, birth control, no drugs or heavy drinking, stuff like that.”
I wasn’t sure why I was still listening to this, but I was horrified to realize that I was actually still considering banging this girl. I mean, fuck it, when in Rome.
“And we always get to watch the other have sex.”
I lifted my hand at the waiter and yelled across the restaurant, “Check, please!”