Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
EVE
“I ’m on it.” Nina sounds weary, but surprisingly sharp for someone who worked an all-nighter. My VP of marketing is earning her keep this week. “Emailing the client now.”
“You’re the best.”
We’ve been putting out fires with a trio of influencers hired to promote the Carmichael Holdings brand. One of them got testy about photo usage rights, while the other demanded a higher talent fee than the others. Nina’s been working behind-the-scenes magic on behalf of my stepsister’s company.
“Thanks again, Neen.” I peer out my window at the first rays of sunrise sprinkling light on the sea. “You feel good about things now?”
“Once I get this revised contract signed, yes. What a bunch of entitled pricks.” Even her chuckle sounds tired. “As soon as it’s buttoned up, I’m letting Josh swoop me away to the coast for our anniversary.”
I take too long responding, distracted by the shirtless man raking sand on the beach. Is that Kit? No, just a guy with a nice body.
“Please don’t worry,” Nina adds a little too quickly. “I’m taking my laptop, and I’ll keep my phone on 24/7.”
“You’ve earned a break, Nina. Take it.” I love how devoted she is. “Have Leslie fill in for the next few days.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” Our senior partner can take it from here. “You and Josh need time to yourselves.”
“Thanks.” She lowers her voice like she does when she shifts out of business mode. “We’ve invited the twins to join us. You remember them, right?”
“Ah, yes.” Once, at a barbecue hosted by Nina and Josh, I met the two men who indulged her twin-centric sex fantasy. Her now-husband, Josh, set it up to tick that particular fantasy off Nina’s sexual bucket list.
“I definitely remember Cade and Brax.”
“I’m sure you do.” Nina laughs with a little more life this time. “Weren’t you guys flirting at one point?”
“A little.” To be honest, I toyed with the thought of hooking up with the duo. The twins made it clear they were game. “I’d just started dating Brock at the time. We weren’t exclusive yet, but it seemed like a bad move to screw it up for some frivolous fling.”
“Fair.” Her flat tone suggests that’s not how she sees it. “Any guy who really deserves you will respect what you need in the bedroom.”
“Maybe.” I guess part of that means me knowing what I need. A sudden urge to probe her overwhelms me. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
I draw a deep breath, praying this isn’t too forward. “Have an open relationship.”
She takes her time answering. “It’s mostly about finding the right person. Someone who’s open and honest and adventurous. Someone whose idea of balance is the same as yours, you know?” She chuckles and I wonder how much negotiating goes into her marriage with Josh. “It means a lot of vulnerable conversations about baggage and trust and connections with others. About what you want out of a long-term partnership, and what you still need from those other connections. There’s constant discussion, which means you need to be good at communicating.”
“That makes sense.” Brock and I always struggled there.
“Eve?” There’s a note of concern in her voice. “Is everything okay? Did something happen at the sex resort?”
“I’m fine.” That sounds underwhelming, considering how much great sex I’ve had. “Fantastic, honestly. The sex stuff has been outstanding. I guess it’s just got me thinking.”
“About open relationships?”
“Marriage in general. What it looks like. What it can look like.”
“It looks different for everyone,” she says. “It should, right? We all have different desires. Different ideas about what we want.”
“True.”
What she’s saying makes sense. And yet?—
My stepfather’s words ring in my ears.
Why can’t Eve be normal, for God’s sake?
The beep of an incoming call pulls my attention back to the one with Nina. “Neen? I’m getting another call. You’ve got everything handled with the Carmichael account?”
“You bet.” She’s confident and sure, which I love about Nina. “Don’t worry about anything. Have fun getting banged senseless.”
“Same to you. And thanks for everything.”
“Bye!”
I tap the screen to take the new call and see it’s Camille calling in. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just calling for an orgasm count.” She laughs. “It’s day three, right? You’re at least in double digits.”
I try for a quick mental tally, then remember her brother has delivered most of them. “It’s going great.” I paw through the dresser, deciding what to wear today. I guess it depends on what I’m doing. “I, um…had my first major girl-on-girl experience.”
“Shut the front door!” Camille hoots with delight. “Was it amazing?”
“It was.” The memory of Sybil’s soft mouth fills my thoughts. The tickle of curly blond hair on my thigh.
The grip of Kit’s hands. The thrust of his thick, hard— “It was a threesome, actually.”
“Did you include a man, or was it a female trifecta?”
“A man.” I hesitate. “Same man I had for the massage.”
“Really? Going back for seconds, huh?”
When I don’t answer right away, she presses.
“Wait. Has it been more than twice?”
“There was also a dinner date, followed by sex on a balcony. Some anal stuff and?—”
“With the same guy?”
“Yeah.”
Camille goes quiet. She’s doing her best not to judge, but I know what she’s thinking. I’m thinking it too, to be honest.
“You’re sampling plenty of different partners though, right?”
I hate when she uses her shrink powers to read my mind. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“I’m working on it.” Dammit, Camille . “I think I might try a boat excursion. There’s this option to do a private catamaran trip with a snorkeling lesson and?—”
“I’m waiting for you to get to the sex part.”
Sighing, I head for my closet. As I rifle through sexy bikinis, I try to decide what’s best for a snorkeling tour. Or for having some stranger peel it off me before ravaging me on the deck of a boat.
“I read the description for the boat tour last night.” More like this morning, between meetings with Nina. “I can arrange to have shirtless men bringing drinks and snacks and going down on me whenever I snap my fingers.”
“That sounds promising.”
“There’s even a kink menu to go along with it. Pirate play, lots of exhibitionist and voyeuristic stuff.”
“Do you have a consort in mind for the boat tour?”
I nibble the edge of my lip. “I might see if Massage Guy can join me.”
The second I say it, I know she’ll object. Maybe that’s why I put those words out there.
Do I already know on some level that I’m starting to feel things for Kit?
Camille clears her throat. “Massage Guy is the same as Threesome Guy?”
“Yes.” I feel like I’m confessing something. “Also Balcony Bang guy.”
She takes a beat to digest that. “Do you want my advice as your friend or as a therapist?”
“Is it the same advice either way?”
“Probably.”
“Let’s hear it.”
She sighs. “Be careful about becoming too attached to this—this—what is Massage Guy’s name?”
I hesitate. “Topher.”
“This Topher.” She pauses. “Sometimes after a breakup, there’s a natural inclination to get attached to a new partner quickly. Transference, it’s called.”
“Huh.” That doesn’t sound great.
“People use the new connection as a sort of Band-Aid to avoid processing the pain of the split.”
“And that’s bad?”
“I don’t like to use judgment words, but yeah…it’s not the healthiest way of processing a breakup.” There’s a pause as she chooses her next words with care. “What happens when you move too quickly into a new intimate relationship is that you bring all your unresolved issues with you and project them onto the new partner. The person gets compared to the ex, there’s a period of disrupted self-reflection, not to mention a whole mess of intimacy issues, yadda yadda yadda. I won’t bore you with the clinical speak, but it’s a form of self-sabotage. The result can be even more painful than the original breakup.”
I let out a long, slow breath. “Yikes.”
“Sorry.” Camille sighs. “I don’t mean to rain on your sex parade. I love you and I want to make sure you’re getting the most from this experience.”
“Thank you.” Grabbing a bright-orange bikini, I set it aside with a floaty white cover-up. “I mean it, Camille. You’re right.”
“I don’t need to be right. I just need you to have fun and be happy. To take care of Eve when I’m not there to do it.”
“I am.” I laugh when I remember Kit’s words. “Massage Guy zeroed in right away on my habit of putting other people’s needs first. He noticed I offered to trade my entrée for someone else’s and called me out for prioritizing another person’s—” Crap. That happened at Kit’s book event last week.
Did I already tell Camille this story?
“Anyway,” I continue, heart racing as I try to sound breezy and light. “He kept redirecting the threesome to put me at the center. My pleasure, rather than letting it be some porn scene where both women focus on pleasing the man.”
“Sounds like he knows what he’s doing.”
“He does.” I pray she never finds out we’re discussing her brother.
“What kind of name is Topher, anyway? Sounds Greek.”
“Um, maybe?” God, I hate lying to Camille. “I should go. I need to book this boat trip before eight a.m.”
“Love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too. Can you tell Sara hi? I haven’t been able to reach her.”
“She had a big date with Trent last night. Seemed kinda nervous about it.”
“Really?” Sara and Trent are the world’s sweetest couple. They met in high school and have been together for years. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“She said he’s been acting mysterious. I reminded her he’s a freakin’ Navy SEAL. If he wasn’t secretive, he’d be pretty bad at his job.”
“I hope that’s all it is.” I can’t stand the thought of our young friend getting hurt.
“Maybe we can plan a call later today. See how she’s doing together.”
“I’d like that.” I really do need to go. “Let’s chat later?” There’s an ache in my chest from missing my friends.
Or maybe that’s not what I’m feeling. It feels more like guilt sifting sandy and hot through my lungs. I hate keeping secrets from Camille. “I miss you.”
“Miss you, too.” She laughs. “Have fun getting boned on a boat!”
She clicks off before I can reply.
It takes me a few minutes to schedule the boat trip. I fill out some waivers for the snorkeling lesson, and there’s a section to choose all my add-ons.
Pirate role play?
No thank you.
Topless sunbathing deck?
Maybe. I’d at least like the option.
Being handcuffed to a deck rail to enact a drowning and rescue roleplay?
Hell no.
But I admire the creativity.
Exhibitionist play with optional vibrating panties?
I hesitate on that one. Wasn’t I wanting to give that a shot?
I tick the box, because why the hell not? I can always change my mind if I’m not in the mood.
When I get to the section for choosing a consort, I hesitate. It’s tempting to request him. Kit knows my body, and I love spending time with him.
But Camille’s words float through my brain.
“What happens when you fall too quickly into a new intimate relationship is that you bring all your unresolved issues with you and project them onto the new partner.”
Am I doing that? I don’t think so. But it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lost sight of myself with a man.
Even if my brain’s not mixing up Kit with my ex, there’s the fact that Kit gets seasick. Isn’t that what he said about feeding the fish from a boat in Belize?
He’s probably not even in the system for this one. Curiosity makes me check the dropdown menu, and what do you know? There’s Topher.
I hesitate.
Maybe it’s an error. Even if it’s not, would he really want to do a boat tour?
I take a deep breath. Then I tick the box to let the system choose for me.
There. That’s done. The app tells me to report to the marina at ten. That’s just enough time to have breakfast and slather on sunscreen. Or hell, I might as well let one of the consorts help me. Isn’t that why I’m here?
With an odd wooden ball in the pit of my belly, I gather my things and head out the door to find pancakes.
* * *
Two hours later, I’m standing at the bow of a luxury yacht. My floaty white coverup flaps in the breeze as I stand with my arms open wide.
“You trust me?”
The male voice behind me doesn’t tickle my ear, and there’s no broad DiCaprio chest at my back. In fact, no one’s touching me at all. We’re ten feet apart, so this isn’t the famous film scene it sounds like.
“Um.” I glance down at my bikini bottoms. They look lumpy and weird on account of the vibrating sex toy inside. “I guess so?”
This is the exhibitionist fantasy. It’s a little too risky to fuck on the bow of a ship while seeking out strangers to watch. For the record, I wouldn’t have wanted that anyway.
But the alternative?
“There’s the other ship.” Behind the controls of our boat, our captain nods to the starboard side. “Let me know when it feels like we’re close enough.”
Close enough for what?
For them to see me, I guess. That’s the exhibitionist part of the fantasy.
An attractive young consort named Nico holds the remote for the sex toy poised to deliver this special enchantment. As we draw close to the ship, he presses a thumb to the button. “Turning it on in three, two, one…”
He cranks up the dial and I yelp.
“Too much.” I claw at the vibrating nub, desperate to move it away from my clit. “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” Nico looks over at Logan, the other consort assigned to this enchantment. An ex-Marine, I think. “I swear level five usually works great.”
Logan unfolds his musclebound frame from a deck chair. “All women are different,” he tells Nico, then gives me a sympathetic look. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“We can take a break. Start again if you’re numbed out.”
His voice is so gentle and sweet. He was patient and kind for the snorkeling lesson, and both men have been so attentive.
But, for reasons I don’t understand, I’m not feeling it.
“Sorry.” I reach into my swimsuit bottoms and scoop out the device. It’s bright-purple and looks like a bionic tongue. “I don’t think I’m much of an exhibitionist at heart.”
“Please, don’t apologize.” Logan holds out a small velvet bag and I drop the toy in it. “It’s yours to keep. Nico can put it with your things.”
I feel like an ungrateful jerk. “You’ve been so nice, and?—”
“Eve, you’re fine.”
“I don’t feel fine.” I feel like kind of an idiot.
Warm hazel eyes meet mine and he smiles. “Want a hug?”
“Yes, please.”
He pulls me into an embrace and I cling like he’s the big brother I once wished for. Perfect Presley has a brother ten years older, but he’d moved out of state by the time my mom married their dad. Camille had her sisters, but Kit was long gone by the time I moved in.
Not that I would have seen Kit as a brother. Or would I?
“You okay?”
I nod into Logan’s broad chest. “I’m good. Maybe I need a break from sex stuff.”
“Totally get it.”
He’s so sweet and kind and this feels like the friend hug I’ve needed. They’re both so attractive, Nico and Logan. When I studied their profiles in the app, they seemed perfect. Nico has dark, wavy hair, while Logan’s is sandy and sun kissed. Both men are smart and interesting to talk to.
But they’re not Kit.
Maybe Camille has a point. Have I already gotten too attached?
Breaking the hug, I look up at Logan’s handsome face. “It’s not you,” I assure him. “It’s me.”
“Honey?” His voice is buttery smooth. “You don’t need to stroke my ego. I’m doing just fine. Focus on you , okay?”
“Okay.”
“If you want to give it another shot, just say the word.” He nods to Nico, who lopes over and joins us.
“Sorry I cranked it too high.” He’s so hot in an Italian stallion meets boy-next-door way. “I know better.”
“Really, it’s fine. I think I’m still a bit overstimulated from yesterday’s three-way.”
“Ah, that’ll do it.” Logan smiles. “Sometimes it takes a while to come down from that.”
“No kidding.” Nico gives a boyish chuckle. “My first on-the-job threesome was more than a year ago, and I swear it took me two days to bounce back.”
“Same,” Logan says. “I went right back to work the next day and couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t my normal self, you know? Sometimes the libido needs a break.”
Another sandbag of guilt piles onto my shoulders. “They make you work, even when you need time to recover?”
“No way.” Logan sticks his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Crystal Bliss is good about that. We only sign in when we want to. We’re never forced to take jobs we’re not into.”
“It’s pretty great.” Nico offers a wide-open smile. “When I first took the job, I thought I’d get stuck banging anything that moved, but Ms. Neville makes it clear we don’t need to do that.”
“Kora,” says Logan, since I must look confused. “She answers to Ashton Holyfield, who laid down hard-and-fast rules about consorts taking time off for mental health. Every sex act we perform is one hundred percent consensual.”
“And fun.” Nico grins.
“So, Eve.” Logan brushes some hair back off my face. “What sounds fun to you right now?”
I look deep in their eyes, one pair warm brown, the other an enchanting hazel. Licking my lips, I confess my deepest desire.
“Can you guys play cribbage?”
* * *
That afternoon, I’m mostly alone on the beach. I’m sipping a happy-hour cocktail and catching my friends up on the boat tour.
“Oh my God.” Camille’s laughing so hard she wipes tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe you had two insanely hot men at your mercy and you asked them to play cribbage .”
Sara angles the phone so they’re centered. They’re huddled together at our usual table at Olive or Twist. “I can’t believe a sex resort’s yacht even had a cribbage set.”
“Maybe people play strip cribbage?” I sip my mojito, waving away the shirtless waiter intent on bringing a refill. “Want to know the wild part?”
Camille snorts. “I thought that was the wild part.”
“I had fun . Playing games instead of?—”
“Building the beast with two backs?” Sara giggles and Camille looks proud. It’s not often our younger, more sheltered friend makes a sex joke.
“I don’t know,” I muse. “Maybe I needed a break.”
“Makes sense,” Camille says. “A woman can’t live on sex alone, though trying sounds fun.”
“And it has been.” But maybe the takeaway here is that I do need an emotional connection to sexual partners. Go figure. “We’ve been talking about me for too long. What’s new with you guys?”
“Well.” Sara’s biting her lip, restraining a smile that’s poised to explode. “Trent proposed.”
“Holy shit, girl!” I shriek so loudly I scare a green parrot from the tree beside me.
“Oh, honey—congratulations.” Camille squeezes her tightly as a pink stain paints Sara’s cheeks. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?” I feel like a heel, though I’m thrilled for her. “You let me blather on about my day when you’re engaged ?”
“I like the element of surprise.” Sara smiles sweetly. “Guess I’m a sucker for delayed gratification.”
“No joke.” Camille sits back with a chuckle. “See also why she’s a twenty-three-year-old virgin.”
“Facts.” Still beaming, Sara delivers the full story. There’s a candlelight dinner and a heartfelt speech prepared by her hot Navy SEAL sweetheart. By the end of it, Camille and I are both bawling.
“So beautiful.” I sniffle and Sara obligingly flashes the ring again, but that’s not what I meant. “I’m glad Trent made it so special for you. I’m thrilled for you guys. Truly.”
Camille nods her agreement. “You got yourself a good one, Sar.”
“Thanks.” She nibbles her lip and looks at me. “You’re not upset?”
“Upset?” How could she think that? “Why would I be upset?”
She’s fizzing with happiness, but her pretty brown eyes look troubled. “After what happened with Brock, and then how you’ve sworn off marriage . . . ” She pauses and shrugs. “I thought it might bother you seeing me head down the traditional path.”
“Honey.” My God, she’s so sweet. “One of my best friends in the world is getting exactly what she’s wanted for ages. I’m thrilled for you!” I mean that from the bottom of my heart. “You’ve talked about marrying Trent since I’ve known you.”
“Friends support friends no matter what.” Camille slips an arm around her. “We’re all allowed to make different choices.”
“I know, you’re right.” Sara’s smile wobbles a little. “Actually, there’s more.”
“More than the proposal?”
She nods and picks at a hangnail. “After he asked me to marry him, I told Trent I’d changed my mind about saving myself for marriage. I said we should just go ahead and do it. Only he said no because we’ve already waited so long and?—”
“Wait, really?” This is huge.
Even Camille looks stunned. “Nice job asking for what you want, Sar.”
“Thanks.” She looks so squirmy and uncomfortable. Can’t say I blame her. It sucks to be turned down.
“What prompted your change of heart?” I probe gently.
“Watching you, sorta.” She gives us a helpless shrug. “I was raised to think a certain way about marriage and sex. But now that you’re rethinking things, maybe I should, too.”
“Wow.” That’s a surprise. She’s always been so…traditional. “He said no?”
“It’s fine, he’s probably right.” Sara makes a face. “It’ll be more special if we wait just a little bit longer.”
Camille pulls her in for another big hug. “I’m proud of you, honey.” She catches my eye over Sara’s shoulder, and we exchange a delicate look. Both of us worry sometimes about Sara. “It’s a big deal to speak up like that. To negotiate sexuality with open conversations.”
“No kidding. I think I suck at that part.” Sara gives a self-conscious laugh. “I love him so much.”
“And he loves you.” I adore Trent, too, and can’t blame Sara for wanting to bang him. “You have an insanely hot, devoted fiancé who wants to make sure you have no regrets. It’s sweet, in a way.”
“I know,” Sara says, blushing a little. “I’m very lucky. It’ll be fine. I’m great, you guys. So happy!”
I’m sensing she wants to be done talking about this. “How about you, Camille?” I probe. “Everything good with Hayden?”
“Oh, you know Hayden.” She waves a dismissive hand. “He’s working a lot, but what’s new?” She says it with fondness, but there’s an edge in her voice I’ve never noticed before.
“Things are good though, right?” Sara probes.
“Absolutely.” Camille sounds like she means it, so I try to ignore my niggle of worry. “We’re not really the romantic type, you know? When you’ve been together this long?—-”
“Nine years, right?” Sara’s always seemed mystified that they don’t tie the knot. “Or is it ten?”
“Something like that.” Camille shrugs. “Maybe we’ll elope someday. It’s not really a priority, you know? We’re both so focused on work.” Clapping her hands, she signals she’s done with that line of discussion. “Come on, Eve—give us more dirt. Tell us more about the sex resort.”
“It must be so interesting,” Sara says, “having the option to sleep with every hot guy you see. Like, boom! —there’s another hot guy to have sex with. And another. And another. And?—”
“You’re right, it’s freeing.” And noteworthy, maybe, that I keep coming back to Kit Plier. “I’m grateful in a way that Brock set me free.”
Camille snorts. “That’s a generous take on things.”
“I’m glad I didn’t marry him,” I amend. “The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced marriage isn’t for me.”
“Marriage to Brock .” Sara makes a face. “You dodged a bullet there.”
“No joke.” Even as I say it, I’m starting to wonder. Not about Brock, but my stance on commitment.
I’m one hundred percent sure my mother’s marriage wouldn’t work for me. Neither would Sara and Trent’s more traditional partnership. Even Camille’s parents’ union—sweet as it was—feels stifling. Co-dependent in a way, which I’d never say to Kit or Camille.
But what if that’s not all there is? What if that emotional connection I seem to require could exist in the same realm as the freedom and curiosity I crave in my sex life?
“Oh!” Camille bounces a little like she does when she has big news. “Speaking of marriage, you’ll never guess what happened.”
“Dish.” I take a sip of my drink and wave to Sybil and Kora. They’re strolling the beach hand in hand, both of them barefoot and smiling. “What happened?”
Camille settles back on her sofa. “I feel a little bad telling you before Kit, but he’s not returning my calls.”
A weird little wiggle of worry crawls down my spine. “Tell me what?”
“That bitch, Miranda.”
I swallow a lump as Camille keeps going. “You know how she swore up and down that she’d never get married?”
“No judgment,” I say, just a little too quickly.
“You might not say that in a sec.” Camille looks positively scandalized. “I ran into Miranda at The Nines.”
“That fancy hotel downtown?”
“Yep,” she says. “I was meeting a girlfriend for drinks and Miranda came through with her mom.”
Sara cocks her head. “Wasn’t she supposed to be back in London by now?”
“She’s moving to Portland.” Camille savors her dramatic pause. “They were talking with the events coordinator at the hotel. She’s getting married .”
“Oh.” I flash to Kit’s face when he shared the story of his proposal. I remember his words over dinner. How calm and collected he seemed.
“We wanted completely different things. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t a rejection of me as a partner. More like marriage as an institution.”
Will it crush him to learn that’s not actually true?
“I’m surprised she’d tell you,” Sara says diplomatically. “I mean, before telling Kit.”
“I don’t think she meant to,” Camille says. “We were saying hello when a hotel employee came over. She started talking about the dessert station for the diamond wedding package, and Miranda and her mom got all weird and shushy.”
“Oh, shit.” That’s awkward.
Camille keeps going. “They tried to deny it and made up this story that they were playing a game where they pretended to plan someone’s wedding.”
Sara frowns. “That’s not even a very good lie.”
“No kidding.” I’ve been lying a lot lately, so I know. “You must have pressed them?”
Of course she did. “They eventually admitted it,” Camille says. “Miranda’s getting married to some rugby player in May.”
“Poor Kit,” Sara says. “Was she planning to let him know?”
“No, and that’s what pisses me off.” Camille’s seething now. “I asked Miranda point blank if she’d told him. She said it’s none of his business. That they’d cut ties and moved on with their lives.”
“Ouch.” I picture the woman I met at the book event. “I mean, that’s her right, but it seems harsh. Weren’t they together for years?”
“Off and on for almost a decade.” Camille shakes her head. “I thought I knew her. We were almost family. Like sisters . She didn’t even have the courtesy to be honest. That’s really what bugs me, I think.”
“That’s awful.” So is this sharp sting of guilt in my chest. “I’m sorry that feels like a betrayal.”
“It’s not even about me.” She waves one manicured hand. “At the very least, you’d think she’d have some basic consideration for Kit’s feelings.”
Sara looks troubled. “You think Kit still loves her?”
I’m holding my breath, almost afraid of the answer.
“Maybe.” Camille shrugs. “Who knows, really. I hope not. It honestly feels like a rebound thing with Miranda. Who goes leaping into a relationship just months after exiting one?”
I swallow hard, nodding. “Crazy.”
This is my chance to tell her. To come out and admit I’m more linked to her brother than she knows.
But I can’t do that without betraying Kit. And I can’t keep Kit’s secret without betraying my friend.
“Dammit,” I mutter, and Camille looks startled. “I feel bad for Kit,” I add, and she nods her agreement. “I don’t still love Brock, but I’d feel terrible if he suddenly married my cousin.”
“Right? I’m glad you get it, Eve.” She looks between Sara and me. “I just hate knowing someone I loved like a sister could be so callous.”
“It can’t not hurt.” Guilt clogs my throat again. “For Kit, I mean. It’s bad enough she’s marrying someone else only months after Kit got down on one knee with your grandmother’s ring and?—”
“Did I tell you that part?” Camille blinks.
Even Sara looks confused. “I never knew it was your grandmother’s ring.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“It was kind of a touchy subject with the family,” Camille says. “Mom originally promised that ring to Caitlynn, but Courtney’s older, so—” Shaking her head, she frowns. “I kept that part quiet, out of respect.”
Goddamn my big mouth. “I think Kit mentioned it.”
Please don’t ask when.
Please don’t ask when.
She doesn’t, thank God, and I’m saved from telling more lies.
Sara peppers her with questions about Miranda, while Camille circles back to Sara’s wedding plans. I sit here breathing through a thick, fuzzy film of guilt.
I’m lying to my friends. And now I’ll be lying to Kit. I can’t share a word of what Camille’s just told me. It’s not my story to share. But I’ll have to face him, knowing this big piece of news that could hurt him.
“I should go.” I nod to the shirtless waiter, since I’ve reached the bottom of my glass. He hustles over with a refill on a tray.
“What’s on tonight’s menu of services?” Camille asks.
“I’m not sure. Maybe another massage.”
“Ooooh, Massage Guy again?” Camille grins.
Sara smiles her agreement. “After today’s boat debacle, maybe that’s best.”
“Maybe.” They’re right, but not for the reasons they’re thinking. I need to see Kit. I should be there for him while he faces the news about Miranda. If I can help in some way?—
“Have fun!” Sara calls.
Camille waves at the screen. “Go sleep with lots of strange men.”
“Will do.” One last lie before I hang up the call.
I tell myself not to freak out. Camille will tell Kit about Miranda, and Kit will handle the news like a grownup. We’ll handle it together.
Wait.
When did I start thinking as we ?
But now that I am, I can’t stop. What if this is my real mission in coming here? Not just for sexual healing, though that’s been profound. Not even to help Kit, but for us to help heal one another?
My brain veers off in that direction, buzzing and frothing like an espresso machine.
A few months ago, Camille did a three-part podcast with an old friend from grad school. Dr. Brooke Braham has a huge following, and together they counseled a middle-aged couple.
“They were so cool together,” Camille told me afterward. “Really in sync, even in conflict. What’s wild is that they aren’t one of those long-married couples. They met in a support group with the ink barely dry on divorce papers from their first marriages. If I’d counseled them back then, I’d have advised them not to start dating.”
But the couple did date, and eventually got married. Together, they navigated co-parenting and blended families. Shared dreams and new challenges.
“It was kinda beautiful,” Camille told me afterward. “Two people who found each other while still processing trauma. In a way, that rawness—the lessons they’d learned through adversity—made them more mindful of one another.”
I know she wasn’t talking about Kit and me. It’s a completely different scenario.
But I can’t help seeing some parallels now.
What if Kit and I could date in the real world?
What if our failed relationships taught us exactly the lessons we need to fit together while moving into new phases of life?
What if we gave us a chance?
My brain bubbles over as my pulse rate picks up. I need to talk to Kit. To see if we’re on the same page. If there’s even a chance he’d consider this crazy idea.
Grabbing my phone, I scroll to the Crystal Bliss app. I’ll start with dinner. Nothing sexual or kinky, just a chance to talk one on one.
I tap all the options for requesting a date. Then I set down my phone, feeling a powerful sense of relief. A fresh wave of hope for a future.
A future that could include Kit.