I have a lot of questions about that last request, but I don’t bother. Bric wants to be in control of living arrangements, fine with me.
A few minutes later he’s gone and Rochelle and I are still holding each other in the exact same spot. Like we’re afraid to move.
“Are you going back to work?” she finally asks.
I play with her hair and sigh. “Yeah. I need to think things through on my own.”
“Are you sorry we did this?”
“No,” I say. “Are you?”
“No. I just want to make sure you’re OK with the arrangement.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s like going back in time, right? Picking up where we left off. I liked how it was.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“You realize that makes no sense, right? Leaving fucked it all up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just saying, I liked it then and I like it now. I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad we’re here. I can’t ask for much more than this. But I want more than this. And I’m still angry, Rochelle. You cannot expect me to just give in and let it all go after one fuck. I have to process shit.”
She’s silent for a little bit. Thinking over my answer. “You’re OK with us not getting a DNA test?” she asks, shifting her body so she’s slightly off to the side of me, one hand on my stomach, tracing circles over my muscles.
I’ve got my arm underneath her, still afraid to let go. “Why bother, right?” I say. “Bric’s right. She’s ours. As long as you’re OK with it, I’m OK with it.”
“Do you think he’s going to make me move back into the Club?”
“Fuck that,” I say. “I didn’t get the impression that’s what he meant, but if it was, fuck that.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to go back there. We’re past that now.”
I agree, nodding my head as I continue to play with her hair. We are past that now. “Do you need anything?” I ask. “For today? For Adley? Or yourself?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Were you really going up to Jackson?”
“Yes. I’ve been down in Pagosa Springs this whole time and I just needed a change. Do you know where Pagosa is?”
“Little dinky river town on the way to Mesa Verde,” I say, picturing it on the map. “My parents took me down there to see those cliff dwellings when I was a kid. Kinda cool, but way too far away from everything.”
“Yeah, very far away. But holy shit, Quin.” Rochelle props herself up on one elbow. “You’d think it was Aspen the way people buy vacation homes down there.” She smiles at me, like she’s got a lot to say about this subject. “My only friends were a bunch of rich Stepford Wives who all had nannies and thought it was normal to own three houses and only live in them a few months out of the year.”
“You should’ve called me,” I say, suddenly sad picturing her down there all alone with the baby.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. And then she leans in and kisses me. It’s not the same kind of kiss we had during sex. Just a soft one that says so much more. “I’ll never do it again,” she whispers. “I promise. I will never leave you again.”
I really hope she keeps this promise. I made it through this year without her—barely. But now that she’s back I can fully appreciate how fucking awful it was.
“I’ve played that night at the Club garden party back in my head a thousand times, wondering how things might’ve been different if I had just said what I felt.”
“You loved me with Bric, right? That’s why you didn’t want to say it?”
“Is it wrong?” I ask. “I’m leaning towards yes, but it doesn’t feel wrong.”
She collapses on top of me again with a sigh. “I like it too. I love you a lot more than him. You should know that. Or maybe just in a different way. But I love him too. Do you think that’s wrong?”
I shrug. “If I didn’t love Bric in some way, I wouldn’t share you with him, would I?”
“I guess not.” She laughs.
“We’ll see how it goes. But if you ever want to stop this again, Rochelle, if you ever want to leave, you just need to tell me and I’ll let him know we’re done.”
“You’ll be able to walk away from him?” she asks.
“I did it once already, right? I walked away and did my own thing for a while.”
“But were you happy?” she asks.
Was I happy? Fuck, no. I was miserable. But something tells me this is not the right answer. Not yet, anyway. “I’m happy now,” I say instead. “And that’s all that matters.”
Chapter Eight - Rochelle
After Quin leaves I have a sudden wave of loneliness. Adley sleeps past lunchtime and if we were home we’d be getting ready to go out to our special pool in the hot springs.
Home? Why did I just refer to Pagosa as home?
That’s not my home. This place isn’t my real home either, but it’s the closest thing I have. I grew up in Palm Springs. The desert. Mild winters and summers so hot, you really can fry an egg on the sidewalk.
I hated it there. Hated it. And yeah, most of my hate has nothing to do with the city or the weather. But that hate lingers.
My cell phone rings about an hour after Quin leaves. I know who it is, so I pick it up and say, “How can I help you, Mr. Bricman?”
“That went well, right?”
“Better than I could’ve hoped,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed.
“What’s wrong?” Bric asks, picking up on my melancholy.
“How long do you think he’ll want to do this?” I ask. “The three of us? Forever?”
“Forever?” Bric laughs. I roll my eyes, because I know his view on relationships and forever. “Nah. Why, you’re tired of me already?”
“Not you, really. Just… I’d like something normal. Eventually.”
“What’s normal?”
“Well, Bric, it’s definitely not a ménage à trois.”
“Says who?”
It’s a losing battle with him. He thinks everything that happens in that Club is normal. “Never mind.”
“Hey, if I’m a third wheel, just let me know and I’ll bail.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s Quin. We kinda talked and he’s into it.”
I can almost hear Bric smile on the other end of the phone. “So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing, yet. But like you always say, there’s no such thing as forever.”
“So just enjoy it while it lasts,” he says.
“I don’t want to lose this new game,” I admit.
“Well, you won the last round. Your chances of winning are good, brat.”
“Did I win?”
“You’re here, aren’t you? That’s never happened before. In fact, Rochelle, you’re a whole bunch of firsts for us. First girl to play for three years. First girl to get what you wanted. First girl to make Smith Baldwin quit early.” We both laugh at that. “First to turn back and play again.”
“I don’t want to play though. I want it to be real. I told you that.”
“It’s real,” he says, frustrated. “What’s not real about it?”
Good God. This man. He has no clue.
“I’m serious,” he says. “What part of this is tripping you up?”
“He wants me with you, Bric.”