Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
QUENTIN
The festivities Sarah alluded to are much tamer than I imagined they’d be—at least for now.
Sarah and Kat sit cross-legged on the floor, arguing playfully over their Scrabble tiles while I watch from the couch. They're both a few glasses of wine in, and their cheeks are flushed with alcohol and laughter. Sarah keeps shooting Kat a triumphant look whenever she plays a particularly good word.
A twinge of something—jealousy?—tugs at my chest. I’m tempted to ignore the feeling, but I force myself to think about it and get to the root of the problem. If there’s any sort of negativity popping up now, I can’t ignore it lest it fester into something deeper.
Okay, so I’m jealous of the affection my wife is giving and receiving from someone else, which makes sense in theory. It’s that primal, possessive part of me fighting for dominance over rationality. But I’ve given her full permission to explore this, and I like Kat as well.
I reflect on the feeling, examine it, and come to the conclusion that my wife is getting something from Kat that she doesn’t get from me. It’s affection and intimacy, sure, but it’s a different kind. One that I can’t give her.
But that’s the basis for most human relationships, isn’t it? Every relationship, romantic or otherwise, gives us a unique type of love and connection. My relationship with one person might be based in our shared sense of humor and fun, while my relationship with another might be forged through our shared ideals and hobbies.
Sarah and I have more in common than not. She’s not only my wife, but my best friend. But I’m realizing now that Kat gives her something I can’t, something undefinable but obvious when I see the two of them together.
And that’s okay.
It makes sense for my first reaction to be jealousy, especially when monogamy is such a central element to the culture we’ve been immersed in our entire lives, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that there’s enough care and affection to go around. Sarah having feelings for Kat does nothing to detract from her feelings for me.
Kat leans over the Scrabble board and places a soft kiss on Sarah’s lips before pulling away and sliding her line of letters into place.
“Triple word score,” she says in a low, taunting voice, as if her kissing Sarah seconds before was a way to soften the blow.
Sarah groans dramatically and flops backward onto the carpet. “You're cheating. Quentin, she's totally cheating.”
I laugh. "Don't look at me. I'm just a spectator.”
“Thanks for the help,” Sarah pouts, but her eyes are filled with playfulness.
Kat reaches for her wine glass and takes a long sip. “You always were a sore loser,” she says with a wink.
The game continues, and eventually, after they’ve put it away, they both migrate to the couch. Sarah settles against my left side, her head resting on my shoulder, while Kat casually curls up on my right. The weight of them both against me feels right in a way I can’t quite explain.
But I can’t help but wonder, where does this end? It’s evident that Sarah has feelings for Kat, and Kat has feelings for her, and I’m somewhere in between. Do I have feelings for Kat too? I’m starting to admit to myself that I might…
But how far can this actually go? We can’t just bring another woman fully into our relationship… right?
The thought should terrify me. Should make me want to establish boundaries, to protect what Sarah and I have built over twenty years of marriage. But instead, I find myself wondering how it would work. How we would navigate the complexities of bringing another person into our relationship.
I don’t know what to think, but I force myself to stop worrying for the time being.
Sarah reaches across me to grab her wine from the coffee table and her body brushes against mine. Kat shifts to make room, her hand landing casually on my thigh for balance. The touch isn't sexual, but it's intimate in a casual sort of way.
Sarah yawns, nuzzling closer to me. “I think I had too much wine. I can hardly stay awake.”
I wrap my arm around Sarah's shoulders to pull her closer. Without thinking, I do the same with my other arm, and Kat accepts the invitation, settling against my side.
The three of us sit there in comfortable silence, the radio playing softly in the background. Despite the newness of this all, it feels so normal, like it’s happened a million times before.
But the practical part of my brain keeps nagging at me. People would talk. Our kids would have questions. Our jobs could be affected. It's one thing to have an open marriage, to experiment with others. It's another thing entirely to bring someone else into your relationship permanently.
And yet...
I look down at Sarah, half-asleep against my chest, then at Kat, who's watching her with such tenderness it makes my heart ache. There's something here. Something real .
The jealousy I felt earlier transforms into something else, because I get it now. I get why Sarah is drawn to Kat, why she wants to explore this. It's not about filling a gap that’s missing in our marriage. It's about adding something new, something that could make us all happier.
“We should probably get her to bed,” Kat says softly, nodding at Sarah who's now fully asleep.
I nod, but neither of us moves. The moment feels too perfect to break.
“Thank you,” I murmur, “for being patient with us while we figure this out.”
Kat meets my eyes, and I see the same questions there that I've been asking myself all night. Where does this go? How far can it go? But I also see hope in her eyes that mirrors my own.
“Thank you for letting me be part of it,” she responds. “And for trusting me with her.”