20. #2
"Keep your voice down."
"Was it good?"
That question should've been easy to answer.
Instead it settled somewhere deeper.
Because the truth was, I had thought about it almost constantly since I left him.
Not just because it felt good.
Because it hadn't felt like anything I knew how to compare it to.
Even the few times I'd touched myself before, I'd never brought myself all the way there. Rodney certainly never had. What happened with Grant hadn't felt anything like sex with Rodney. It hadn't even felt like the same category of feeling.
It felt like being paid attention to.
Like being learned.
Like my body belonged to me and someone else was just grateful to be invited in.
A breath slipped out before I answered.
"It was great."
Bianca stared at me.
"What's bad about that then? Sounds like you're living the dream."
I looked down at my tea.
"The bad part is that I'm still married."
She didn't interrupt.
"And I think..." I swallowed. "I think I want more from him than I'm supposed to."
That quieted her.
I kept going before I could stop myself.
"I don't know how he feels about me. I mean I do but not really. He knows everything about me, and I still feel like I know so little about him. I don't know if that's him trying to keep distance or if he just assumes this is temporary."
Bianca's expression softened a little. "Well isn't this temporary."
"I mean," I slouched in my seat. "I guess so. I don't want it to be. I don't know if it has to be."
I continue, "And then there's his ex. They were together for ten years which is a really long time. They were engaged. I don't know if he's still hung up on her or if there's some part of him that still..."
I trailed off.
Bianca reached for her drink.
"Did you say any of this to him?"
I shook my head.
"It felt too early."
"It is never too early to know what you're doing when entangled with a man."
She continues, "Do you know how he feels about all the Rodney stuff?"
"Yes," I said. "He knows the situation. He knows the bad side of things."
Bianca nodded slowly.
"I think you should ask."
I stared at her. "I don't want him to think I'm dramatic."
She laughed.
"Sweetheart. You are what you are. There's no hiding that."
I groaned.
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"I mean that lovingly."
I nodded.
After a second she asked, "Why haven't you told Reese?"
I shook my head. "I don't think she'd react well to it."
"I'm sorry, but after today? I'm definitely not her biggest fan."
I looked down at the table. "Yeah. I don't know what that was."
"You know her better than I do. But that was weird."
It was.
I still wasn't sure whether I was more angry at what she said or at the fact that it sounded familiar.
We finished in the cafe shortly and headed back to the house.
Bianca had turned the music on low, something soft playing through the speakers while we sat in it instead of talking over it. Every now and then she'd glance at me like she wanted to say something else, but she didn't push. I appreciated that more than I could say out loud.
We got back to the house and Bianca stretched as soon as we stepped through the door.
"I'm showering," she said, already heading toward the stairs. "That class took years off my life."
I let out a small laugh.
"Go ahead."
Her footsteps disappeared upstairs a second later, leaving the house quiet again.
Too quiet.
I dropped my bag onto the kitchen counter and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath as the silence settled around me. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at nothing in particular, trying to shake the lingering weight from earlier.
It didn't really work.
My phone buzzed against the counter.
The sound cut through the quiet sharper than it should've.
I picked it up without thinking.
Rodney.
My stomach tightened instantly.
I stared at the screen for half a second before answering.
"Hello?"
He didn't waste time.
"Vivian said you have no events this week. What's that about?"
I straightened slightly, already feeling that familiar shift settle into my body—shoulders tighter, voice more controlled.
"Bianca's in town," I said. "She came to visit."
"And? Is Bianca the president?"
The word came out flat.
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off before I could.
"Oh, wait," he said, his tone sharpening. "I'm the fucking President, and you're the First Lady, so I'd like for you to goddamn act like it."
Something hot flared in my chest.
Not fear.
Not this time.
Anger.
"She's my friend," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "She came to see me. I cleared it with Vivian—she approved the time off."
There was a pause.
Then Rodney laughed.
Low.
Humorless.
"Oh, is that right, Naomi?"
I didn't respond.
"So that means I need to find time in my already packed schedule to attend some idiotic women's suicide prevention dinner tomorrow," he continued, his tone mocking now, "because Bianca is in town?"
He dragged her name out like it was something to be annoyed by.
I stayed quiet.
He kept going.
"Well, let me make something very clear."
My grip tightened slightly around the phone.
"You don't take time off that I don't agree upon," he said. "I don't give a damn if Vivian said it was fine. Vivian works for me."
Each word landed harder than the last.
"I don't care if your sick mother dropped dead this morning and you needed a week to mourn," he added coldly. "You have a job to do."
My chest tightened, my jaw locking before I could react.
"So tell Bianca your little vacation is over," he finished. "Your time off is denied."
The line went dead.
For a second, I just stood there.
Phone still pressed to my ear.
The silence afterward rang louder than his voice had.
"Fucking asshole," I muttered under my breath, dropping the phone onto the counter a little harder than necessary.
I pressed my palms flat against the surface, closing my eyes for a second as I forced myself to breathe through the tightness building in my chest.
Don't cry.
Don't cry.
Don't—
Footsteps.
I straightened immediately.
Bianca came down the stairs a second later, wrapped in a robe, her hair damp and pulled over one shoulder.
"I love that shower," she said, walking into the kitchen. "The water pressure is insane—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her expression shifted the second she looked at me.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head once, even though it was pointless.
"Rodney," I said. "He wants me back at events this week."
Bianca's face twisted instantly.
"Are you serious?"
"Unfortunately."
She walked over without hesitation, pulling me into a hug before I could even think about it.
"That's okay," she said softly. "We can still see each other around it. And if not, that's okay too."
I let out a quiet breath against her shoulder.
"I know."
She pulled back slightly, studying my face.
"It's just frustrating."
"I know," she repeated.
Then, a little lighter, "I still need to see my parents anyway, so it's fine."
I nodded, even though it didn't really feel fine.
But it was easier to pretend it did.
By the time the house settled again, it was just past seven.
Bianca and I had ended up on the couch, some random show playing in the background neither of us was really paying attention to. She had one leg tucked under her, scrolling through her phone, while I sat back against the cushions, my mind drifting in and out of everything at once.
The doorbell cut through the room.
Bianca glanced up.
"That's Reese?"
"Yeah."
I pushed myself up from the couch.
"I'll get it."
I didn't let her follow me.
Something about it felt easier this way.
I opened the door and stepped outside just enough to close it slightly behind me.
Reese stood on the porch in pink silk pajamas, her hair loose now, two bottles of red wine in her hands.
She looked normal.
Like earlier hadn't happened.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
For a second neither of us moved.
Then she lifted the bottles slightly.
"I come bearing peace offerings."
That made the corner of my mouth lift just barely.
"Thank you."
Her expression shifted then.
Softer.
"I wanted to talk about earlier." She says beating me to it.
"Okay."
She exhaled quietly.
"I took it too far," she admitted. "I've been stressed about some work stuff, and I took it out on you."
That sounded like her.
I nodded again.
"I understand," I said. "But I didn't really appreciate it."
A small pause.
Then she sighed.
"Naomi, I apologized. What else do you want me to say?"
The shift was subtle.
But it was there.
I felt it immediately.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Nothing—I was just—"
I stopped myself.
Because I didn't even know what I was trying to say anymore.
Reese nodded once.
"Okay."
She pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside like the conversation was already over.
I followed her in a second later.
Bianca looked up from the couch, her eyes flicking between both of us as Reese set the wine down on the table.
"Hey," Reese said lightly.
"Hey," Bianca replied, her tone neutral but her expression still a little skeptical.
I moved back toward the couch slowly, something unsettled sitting just beneath the surface of everything.
Because Reese had apologized.
Technically.
But it didn't feel like it was real.