CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — CONFESSING MY SINS
MARNIE
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m a mess of split ends, dry, reddened eyes, and the salt-sting of tears that start and stop without warning.
I meet Eliza at Café Vitesse because it’s quiet, and because the chance of running into anyone from the office is low enough that I don’t have to scan every face in the room.
I’ve barely slept. The barista has to repeat my order three times before I process what she’s saying.
When I sit, Eliza nods wisely, sipping black coffee with her phone face-down, as if she’s made a vow not to look at it until I arrive. The pretty blonde’s clad in athleisure, hair twisted up, zero makeup. She looks so composed I want to scream.
“You look like hell,” she says, but it’s not a dig. “Are you okay, girlfriend? Seriously, I was kind of worried when I got that text from you.”
I nod, but my hands won’t stop shaking. I reach for my latte and almost spill it. “Long week,” I say, which is the understatement of the year.
Eliza leans in. “You want to tell me what’s really going on, or should I just guess?”
I try to dodge. “It’s nothing. Just office stuff. You know how it is.”
Eliza gives me that therapist look, the one that says, Don’t bullshit me, I know you. “You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, and you look like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin. It’s not just work, is it?”
I stare at my cup, swirling the foam with the tip of my finger. “It’s complicated.”
Eliza sips, then says, “Is it about James and Brent? Because I’d bet money it is.”
A hot flush blooms up my neck. I can’t lie, but I can’t say it, either. So I just breathe.
Eliza’s voice softens. “It’s okay. I know. Everybody does, honestly. You guys haven’t been subtle, Marnie, and I swear, sometimes I’ll walk by the conference room and it sounds like a porn film going on inside. Seriously, everyone knows.”
I laugh, but it comes out as a sob. “Oh shit. Shit shit shit.”
Eliza shrugs, but then reaches across the table, taking my hand in both of hers. Her skin is warm and dry, the nails short, practical.
“James and Brent are senior partners, so it’s not like you’re going to get fired. Hell, even the firm is named after them.”
I shake my head. “But I don’t know, Eliza. I mean, things feel so off. And things are so mixed up too because … well, I’m seeing them both, and also apart.”
My friend looks confused.
“What do you mean?”
I drop my chin, my head whirling.
“I thought this was a menage type thing, where we’d always be together, the three of us. But then I went on individual dates with Brent and James, and oh my god, I don’t know if that’s kosher. Is it against the rules?”
Eliza shakes her head, eyes wide.
“I have no idea because girlfriend, you’re asking the wrong person. But did it feel okay to you? Like do you think the men knew about the other guy’s dates, and didn’t care?”
I bite my lip, shaking my head.
“No, because the dates were both last night, so I don’t think they knew about each other. Or maybe they did? I don’t know because I’m so confused! But I have a bad feeling about this.”
Eliza nods thoughtfully. “Okay, this sounds like a seriously tangled love triangle. But do you like both of them?”
“More than like,” I admit, voice ragged. “I think I might be in love with them. Both. Which is so fucking stupid I can’t even—”
My friend cuts me off. “No, it’s not stupid. Not even a little. But it’s a mess, for you, and for them, too.”
“I know,” I say. “I know, but—”
“Are you happy?” my bud asks, her eyes serious. “Because that’s the important thing, Marnie. There’s nothing that matters except love, and if you love both Brent and James, then I think there’s a way out of this.”
I think carefully.
“I am happy with them,” I say, “and I do love both men. But sometimes, I’m just terrified.
Like, every minute I’m at work I think it’s all going to explode in my face.
And if dating them separately isn’t okay, then they’re going to kill each other.
You don’t know Brent and James, Eliza. They can be vicious.
Cold-hearted. Savage, even, and brutal.”
Eliza squeezes my hand. “No, I know that. But I think you need to figure out what you want. And you need to be honest with them and with yourself.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, warm and humiliating. “But what if I’ve already fucked up by seeing them separately?” I whisper. “Even worse, what if I don’t mean anything to them? What if I’m just a roll in the hay, a distraction until the next girl comes along?”
Eliza shakes her head, her expression fierce.
“I can’t believe you’re even asking that when just a minute ago, you were talking about them killing each other while fighting for you.
So you know you’re not a flash in the pan, Marnie.
You’re sexy, smart, and incredibly lucky.
You have power here, even if it doesn’t feel like it. ”
“I don’t know how to use that power though,” I say in a small voice, and the shame in my tone is so raw I can barely hear myself.
“You do,” Eliza says, calm and sure. “You just have to stop being afraid.”
We sit like that for a while, nursing our drinks, the noise of the café swirling around us like fog. Eventually, the tears dry up, and I take a deep breath.
“Thanks, girlfriend,” I say, voice wobbly. “I know my situation is so fucked-up, and I realize appreciate you listening to me.”
“Anytime,” my buddy says with a sympathetic smile before squeezing my hand in hers. Then she lets go, leans back, and gives me a playful smile. “If you need me to torch their offices, or if you want me to key their cars, let me know.”
I laugh, for real this time, and it’s enough to make me feel human again.
The rest of the weekend, I keep my head down.
I work through the case files, prep for Monday’s brief, and try not to think about James or Brent, which of course means I think of them constantly.
I can still feel James’s arms around me, the solid weight of him, the incredible tenderness mixed with lust. But also, I can taste Brent’s mouth on mine, the desperate edge of his hands in my hair, the heaviness of his big body pressed against my plush curves.
I am absolutely, unequivocally screwed. Should I be seeing them alone? Do they know? Or will this love triangle be the death of our relationship?
Tears start in my eyes again because the answer could be something terrible … but there’s only one way to find out.