Chapter 18
SCARLETT
A message blinks at me in the morning.
I picture it tapping its toe, checking its wristwatch, huffing and puffing, saying, “I’m waiting.”
It can only be Nadia.
With my body deliciously sore, I slide open the message.
Nadia: Where is my report? I WANT IT NOW!
I laugh quietly from under the covers, the handsome man I spent the night with sound asleep on his stomach.
In our honeymoon suite.
My life is indeed a theater. And I love playing this part.
I read the next text.
Nadia: I can only conclude either you endured a horrible injury from the sapphire heels, which you damn well better be wearing, or you suffered a sex injury. Did you break your vagina? Is it in a cast? A sling? A splint? Sidenote: do they make vaginal splints?
A laugh bursts from me, but I quiet it quickly so I don’t wake my companion. I tap out a reply.
Scarlett: New market opportunity—vaginal splints for over-sexing. Fortunately, I’m simply in my bed as a result of a condition known as orgasm excessia.
Nadia: Too many orgasms. I’d like to catch that one. Give me the details now.
Scarlett: I hardly know where to begin except . . . you were right.
Nadia: Always a good start to any story. I take it you indulged in the wigs and a little role-play?
Scarlett: Yes! I had no idea that would unleash everything so quickly. But it did. I swear, as soon as I saw him at the train station, and I was dressed as a redhead in a sassy, bold dress, I felt liberated.
Nadia: Liberated from your past, you mean?
Scarlett: Exactly. I felt like a different woman. Like someone who could own all her fantasies. Someone who had a partner who wanted to know them, indulge them. It was never that way with Jonathan. He was never that excited. Anyway, let’s not talk about Jonathan.
Nadia: Words to live by. Tell me all about Mr. Orgasm Dispenser instead. Is that what you call Daniel now?
Scarlett: Oh, yes. Of course.
Nadia: Excellent. I probably won’t use it when I see him, but it’s useful to know his secret identity for party planning and whatnot. So, how does the whole fake name ruse work?
Scarlett: We pick different names each day. It’s crazy and wonderful. We pretend we’re newlyweds, and it’s like a whole new world.
Nadia: And that gives you the freedom to explore what you want and what you’ve craved. Right?
Scarlett: Yes. I’m finally having the sex I want. It’s wild and carnal and frequent. Last night, we fucked twice before bed. I’m in dirty heaven.
Nadia: So it’s a sex cornucopia? I want to be incredibly jealous, but if anybody deserves that, it’s you.
Scarlett: I’m devouring all the goodies in the cornucopia, thank you very much. I’m feasting like a glutton. But the thing is, I also feel like when we pretend, I can open up to Daniel in other ways. I actually told him—gasp!—about Jonathan.
Nadia: Whoa. That’s a huge step. You don’t usually share that with anyone.
Scarlett: I don’t. But it was easy to tell him—more so than I expected. Maybe because it’s all occurring in this container of make-believe. But it felt so freeing. Like I’d been carrying around this terrible and embarrassing secret and could finally let go of it.
Nadia: How did he take it? What did he say? I know that’s been a worry of yours—how it would reflect on you.
Scarlett: Yes, like something was wrong with me, but I’m saying goodbye to those thoughts.
And he handled it, I suppose, exactly like I’d hoped he would.
Once he knew, he didn’t look at me the way Jonathan would have.
He didn’t look at me like a man who wasn’t interested in his wife.
He was enraged on my behalf, Nadia. It was sort of arousing and comforting at the same time.
Three wiggling dots dance on my screen for a while. Her response is short, though, and to the point.
Nadia: You have feelings for him.
I close my eyes, wishing she weren’t right.
But when I open my eyes and turn my gaze to the man sharing my bed, his strong shoulders, his sculpted back, his sex-tousled hair, I can’t wish these emotions away.
Especially when I catch a glimpse of his profile, with his carved cheekbones and soft lips, and I think of everything those lips have said to me—his kind words, his protective words.
She’s dead right. Emotions rise up in me, strong, powerful ones. Ones that threaten to break my heart all the way open. I don’t know where these emotions fit into my life. The trouble is—I don’t think they can.
I need to get them out of my head though.
Scarlett: I do have feelings for him. But the trouble is, there’s nothing on my to-do list telling me how to handle these sorts of feelings. I don’t know where to go from here.
Nadia: Does he have feelings for you?
Another glance at the man, and the memory of the last two days rushes in, bright and clear. The passion in his voice. The intensity in his eyes. Of course he has feelings for me, but I don’t think he’ll allow them to dance past a certain point. And I don’t know if they’re the same as mine.
Scarlett: He might, but he also made it clear that this thing with us exists in its own time and space, and that we’ll go back to the way we were. He was up-front about that from the start.
Nadia: Then you enjoy it for what it is, for that moment in time.
Some relationships are meant to last for a long while.
Others burn bright and hot for a few days, maybe a week.
It doesn’t make them less valuable. They all help us learn something.
Maybe this is exactly what you need to finally put all the pain of the past behind you.
To understand and to see on a true, visceral, physical level that you can be worshipped, cherished, and adored in the bedroom.
I swallow past a tight lump in my throat. I’m certain she’s giving me exactly the advice I need to hear. I know, too, that I ought to absorb it into my bones, into my blood, and to act accordingly.
To be smart. To protect my heart.
Scarlett: I suspect you’re right. Also, how the hell do you know so much about relationships?
Nadia: I’m not sure I know that much. But I try to listen to all the things people around me have said in various situations.
When my brother was going through heartache a few years back before he met his eventual fiancée, my mother said something similar to him.
It helped him move on. So I’ve shared it with you in case you need it at some point to move on.
If Daniel’s made it clear that there’s no future beyond this tryst, just remember you’ll be fine, and you’ll come out on the other side. And I’ll be here for you.
I draw a deep breath, processing her wisdom. Grateful for it, and her support.
I know how to protect my heart. I’ve done it for years. If I have to do it with Daniel, I’ll do it with Daniel.
I send one last note to my friend.
Scarlett: I’ll be fine. I’ll be perfectly fine.
Soon, I get dressed and ready, then when he’s up and freshened up too, we gather our bags and head to the lobby, running into Hazel and Elodie.
They’re lounging on the leather sofa, drinking coffee.
“Good morning, Violet,” Elodie calls out, her voice a little hoarse.
It takes me a moment to remember I’m Violet. Blinking, I fasten on a smile. “Hi Elodie. Hello Hazel. Did you have a good night?”
The blonde threads her free hand through her wife’s. “The best. Thank you.”
Hazel laughs softly, resting her head on Elodie’s shoulder. “We’re all such honeymooners, aren’t we?”
I chuckle, but it feels forced. “We are indeed.”
“Love you madly, babe,” Hazel says to her wife, then plants a soft kiss on her cheek.
“You too, sweetie.”
Hazel squeezes Elodie’s hand and my heart clutches. They’re so…real.
I want that. I want that kind of true romance.
But it’s not in the cards.
“Have a wonderful honeymoon,” I call out and we head to the airport, Nadia’s words ringing in my head like a trumpet.
You’ll come out on the other side.
I will. I have to believe it.