The Other Women

by Erin Zak

  “I wish you would have made that move earlier.” She huffs. “Like three years earlier.”

  Well, that wasn’t the reaction I had prepared for. “You wouldn’t have cheated then?”

  “Cecily,” Willow says, then stops, sighs, rubs her hands over her face. “You need to let that go. It happened. And it happened because you weren’t going to leave him. So if anyone is at fault here, it is you.”

  She’s absolutely right. I cannot argue with her words. But her tone? Oh, her tone is something else entirely. If a tone could drip with disdain and anger, hers would be creating quite the mess all over her cherrywood floors. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” She stands quickly and grabs her plate. She’s dressed in jeans and a white sweater, which seems odd considering how warm Vegas is, but her apartment is freezing.

  I don’t want to follow her. When she gets like this, it’s hard to have a conversation. She is and will always be right. Even though in this circumstance, she technically is right. If she was wrong, which she has been a lot in the past, she’d still be right. It’s infuriating. But I push away from the table and follow, my plate cleaned, of course. I was starving. I watch as she scrapes her food into the trash. “Willow, you have to talk to me.”

  “You are ridiculous.” She throws her dish into the sink, and it shatters. I have to say, I’m not entirely sure how to act now. This display is a little more than I’ve experienced before. I slide my plate onto the white marble countertop and take a step back. She stares as if she realizes she’s scared me, but it doesn’t stop her from slamming her hands onto the counter. “You could have left him before. Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I just…” I don’t know what to say. Her temper is not at all comforting, and I hate to be stupid, but I don’t know what pushed me to finally ask for the separation. “I knew after you left town, I couldn’t continue with him. You broke me when you left.”

  “You?” She seems shocked. I shocked her. “I broke you?” The vein along her left temple is bulging. “This job is a dream come true for me. I couldn’t be your side piece any longer.”

  “That’s interesting.” I shake my head. “You continued to act like we were together. You know that, right?”

  She nods.

  “And you continued to text me, and call me, and FaceTime me, albeit sporadically, but you acted as if we were still a thing.”

  She nods again.

  “And you continued to tell me you loved me.”

  She doesn’t nod this time.

  “And you did all of that while you were fucking some other woman.”

  Again, no nod. No movement whatsoever.

  We stand in silence for what feels like hours. She keeps blinking. And every blink gets me angrier. “Say something!”

  “You have no room to lecture me about fucking someone else.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “You were still having sex with Luke while we were together.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Well? Weren’t you?”

  “He was my husband.”

  She shakes her head. “So?”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow.”

  “You know what?”

  She huffs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I guess we’re fucking even then,” I shout, use the word I hate, and she knows I hate it, and the tables have turned. “I know what I did was wrong. I know I should have left him. I should have never started with you in the first place. Everything about this scared me. I’m still scared. But you leaving me…”

  “I had to leave,” she whispers.

  “I know.” My eyes have filled with tears now. “But you didn’t have to find someone else. I never stopped loving you. Even now.” I’m wiping frantically as the tears fall. “You must have known it wasn’t over for me. I have never stopped—”

  “It was never over for me, Cecily. Never.”

  “Then? Why?”

  “I needed a soft place to land.”

  The idea that she used some woman as a soft place to land doesn’t anger so much as it saddens me. I feel bad for the other woman. “But you kept it up with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I wanted you. I didn’t stop wanting you when I left. I just tried to fill a void. I ended it with her as soon as…the guilt…I couldn’t handle it.”

  Whoa, whoa, whoa. “The guilt is why you stopped?”

  She swallows. She’s so thin that I can see her neck muscles working.

  “Are you serious? That is why you stopped with her?”

  She doesn’t respond until finally, she says, “I’m sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I really am.”

  “I think we need some time apart. You need to figure yourself out. And I…” I know exactly what I want.

  “So just like that?” she asks, not allowing me to continue. “You’re going to end it with me just like that? Not even give me the opportunity to defend myself?”

  “You found someone else just like that. And the only reason you stopped is because you felt guilty. So I think you need to figure out if I’m really who you want.” She stares, no longer teary-eyed, which means this wasn’t as much of a shock as she’d prepared for it to be.

  “When do you leave town?”

  “Monday night.”

  “I’m out tonight through Monday morning. I have a meeting back in Chicago.” She leans against the counter. “I guess that’ll give me time to decide.”

  “Shocking. You’re going to leave again.”

  “Wow. Seriously?”

  It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes. I clench my teeth. I want to spit out so many profanities, but nothing sounds menacing coming out of my mouth. “Let’s reconvene Monday before I leave.”

  “Reconvene?”

  “Let’s be real, we worked best as coworkers, so we might as well keep it professional for now.” I see the pain from my sharp tongue flash across her face. Before I can feel bad, before I can take it back and beg her to come back to me, I turn and leave the kitchen. As I am gathering my purse and shoes, she clears her throat behind me.

  “Can you at least kiss me good-bye?”

  I spin to face her. She’s standing a foot away. This same scene has played out in real life, in my head, in all of my fantasies. Where I kiss her and it leads to a hot and heavy make-out session, followed by intense, earth-shattering sex. A part of me thinks maybe, just maybe, if I kiss her, that is what will happen, and I’m confused enough to not know what I want and don’t want. As I lean forward, she takes my face and presses her thin lips against mine.

  And nothing happens.

  Not one thing.

  And I’m not sure whether to be happy or sad. The only thing I know is that I cannot flee from her fast enough. And the entire time I’m sprinting toward the VIP car I took here, I keep thinking I may have just ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me.

  Francesca

  Cecily texted early in the afternoon. I was shocked. I figured I wouldn’t hear from her again. Her text was short, and so were the following three. Her talk with the other woman must not have gone well. I was equal parts happy and sad. Happy because maybe that meant she was open to whatever was happening between us. And sad because I know how much matters of the heart hurt. I let her know she was more than welcome to bail, and I would not hold it against her. Her simple I would never bail on you response was enough for me to hope for the best.

  Stupid for me to do, since my motto is “stay guarded, stay sane,” but whatever. I’ll make myself expect the worst. Then I won’t be too disappointed.

  When I suggested that Cecily and I meet downstairs in the lobby, she told me to come to her room. The idea of coming to her room has me on edge. I know I’m going to want to kiss her. I’m going to want to feel her touch again. And I’m most definitely going to want to undress her and do things to her body that I hop
e the other woman has never even considered. I want to make her feel whole again and worthy and not hurt. All the things I am sure she will do for me. Or at least, I’m hoping she will do for me, which is way too much pressure to put on someone, so it’s best if I keep these thoughts at bay. I don’t need to fuck everything up so quickly. What if this whole thing could actually be something?

  Yesterday, I was ready to never see her again. Now I’m making plans for the future?

  Come on, Frankie. Get your head in the game.

  I take a couple deep breaths as the elevator carries me to the top of the tall building. Thankfully, I was able to have one of the other bartenders come in a couple hours early, so I got to run home to change. I have no idea what Cecily plans on wearing, but I did tell her to dress up. The club where Diamond works is super nice. And they actually have a dress code, which is good for her and the other girls. Keeps the riffraff at a minimum, according to Diamond. For someone who swore ten years ago that she would never do this for longer than a couple years, she sure has found her niche. Being the “it” girl at the nicest strip club in town has its advantages, I’m sure. She never has to take all her clothes off, and she makes more money than she can shake a fist at. Maybe it’s weird to say I’m proud of her, but I am.

  When I get off the elevator on the penthouse floor, I can feel my pulse beating in my ears. I don’t get nervous, so this is a very strange phenomenon. As the mirrored elevator doors close, I turn around and look at myself. I went with my favorite black dress, which is tight but not super short. I didn’t pull any punches tonight and feel, dare I say, sexy?

  I stride toward Cecily’s door. My heels will hurt my feet by the end of the night, but I don’t care. My intent with this entire ensemble—hair, makeup, dress, heels—is to stop traffic. And judging by the way Cecily looks at me when she opens the door, mission accomplished.

  The best part is that I’m equally speechless. She looks so fucking good. She’s wearing black skinny ankle pants and a sparkly black tank top. Her hair is in large curls, and her smoky eye makeup is so hot. I can’t tell who is more taken aback, me or her. “You look gorgeous,” I finally say and let out the breath. “I mean, like, wow.”

  She stands straighter and lets the door close behind me as I move around her in the entryway. She clicks the toe of her black heels on the tiles. “Um, you should talk. You…” She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and bites lightly before she finally finishes with, “You’re a vision.”

  I smile as I kick my leg up behind me and act shy. She laughs, and it’s exactly the reaction I want. As she turns to grab her purse, I touch her arm. She looks back at me, and again, my breath is stolen. “Thanks for going with me tonight.”

  “I should be the one thanking you.” She touches my chin. We’re standing close enough that I could so easily lean in and kiss her if I want to, and I do want to. But I know we are both too scared, too damaged, and too worried about the what-ifs to make it unforgettable.

  Hell, we may never get to the point of being able to kiss without worrying. We may never kiss at all.

  Oh shit, who am I trying to kid? I laugh to myself. I am going to devour her eventually, every single inch of her, and believe me when I say, it will not only be unforgettable, it will be fan-fucking-tastic.

  Chapter Nine

  Cecily

  I never considered women before Willow. When I met Luke our sophomore year of high school, I put all my eggs in one basket. My parents loved him. Hell, my entire family still loves him. He’s the one they look forward to seeing at holidays. Not that I’m not fun; Luke is just more of everything I try very hard to be. He’s more outgoing, more adorable, more active, more, more, more. I have always lived partly in his shadow. After the numerous attempts to have a child, I realized that shadow was affecting me in more ways. I was always sad and reserved, which is not who I really am. Meeting new people and learning about them is something I am good at, yes, but I also really love doing both.

  Luke didn’t stifle me. How could he stop doing whatever he was doing or help me with how unhappy I was when I had no idea myself? After in vitro and the numerous miscarriages, I shut down completely.

  And in waltzed Willow. With her hair and her slim body and her ability to make me want to know every single thing about her, from why she moved to Chicago to how she looked while being unraveled.

  Bisexuality wasn’t something I thought possible. Even now, I don’t find myself looking at other men. I still think Luke is amazing and wonderful and super adorable, but beyond that…I can’t get back to what I had with him, and I don’t know if I ever want to go back to another man again.

  Maybe trying to label myself isn’t the right thought to be in the middle of as Francesca gets the car for us at the VIP concierge desk. But I feel the need to know what the hell I am as I’m trying to decide what to do with this beautiful woman who has seeped into my entire being with minimal effort.

  Her in that black dress that stopped me in my tracks is going to be the death of me either way. So why bother with the consuming thoughts about whether or not I’m a full-blown lesbian?

  I’m not.

  Right?

  I scan my surroundings, frantic to spot a man I find attractive. There’s one. He’s cute. Sort of looks like Luke, but whatever. He’s a keeper. Okay, whew.

  But would I let him have sex with me?

  Hmm…

  “You are so deep in thought right now. I’m not sure I want to interrupt.”

  I need to work on not being transparent. Seriously. I smile at Francesca as she adjusts her stance so we’re standing shoulder to shoulder. I glance at her profile, her smile, and quickly look away. “I’m sure you’d be bored if I told you.”

  “Probably.” She leans into me a little more firmly. “Unless you were thinking about all the ways you could rip my dress off, then maybe you could regale me with the details.”

  I gasp so fast that I choke. Super freaking smooth, Cecily. I cough a few times, eager to clear my airway. When I finally make eye contact with Francesca, she’s worried but also entertained. I can’t say I blame her. Her flirting took me so far off guard I almost died.

  “Are you okay?” she asks and then repeats herself as I’m drying the tears my coughing spell stirred.

  I chuckle. “Y’know, it’s not nice to do that to someone.”

  “What?”

  “Almost kill them with your flirting.”

  “Me? Flirting?” She gasps, her hand on the bare skin above her breasts.

  I chuckle. “That was good, though.”

  “Well?”

  “Yes?”

  “Enquiring minds want to know…was I right?”

  I shrug and smile. “Maybe?” She’s not the only one who can flirt. She licks her lips and smiles, biting her bottom lip. I hear the driver call her name. “I’m not really sure I’d have to take your dress off at all to have my way with you.”

  The look that washes over her face is enough for me to feel as if I’m a rock star who crushed my set before I walked offstage. “Damn,” she says as she steps in my direction. “That was well done, my friend. Very well done.”

  I laugh as I head toward the car. “Just wait,” I say after we climb into the limo and situate ourselves in the back seat. “I’m full of surprises.”

  She looks over. The blue lights in the limo are doing a number on me. Not only does she look even more striking than she did moments earlier, but the lights make me want to kiss her even more. Is that possible? Her hair is pulled up into a loose French braid, so her face is completely exposed. I stare at the beauty mark below her lip on the right side. How have I never noticed it before? I’m thankful for its existence now. Her intense eye contact is too much for my raging libido. She opens her mouth a tiny amount, and oh God, I feel myself leaning into her—

  “Miss Frankie, dear, where’d you say we’re headed? Di’s club?”

  We fly apart for reasons I am unsure of; neither of us should be worried about
kissing someone. Especially me. I’m free from Willow. I’m separated from Luke. I’m single and ready to mingle. And according to her, she is as well. The time isn’t right is all I can come up with. Even though the moment would have been perfect. How I’ll escape not kissing her tonight is beyond me.

  “Jerry, come on now,” Francesca semi-shouts over the radio. I think it’s Bruno Mars. Maybe that’s why we didn’t kiss. Who wants a Bruno Mars song to be their first kiss song? I can think of a thousand different songs I’d like in the background when I finally kiss her. She clears her throat, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “Yes, Di’s club. Back entrance. You know the drill.”

  “I’m only making sure, Miss Frankie. You know I like to check.”

  “Yeah, you’re also jamming my clam right now,” she says under her breath, and I burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Jerry asks.

  “Nothing, Jer. Just get us there, please. And roll the window up.” She lets out an exasperated sigh as the window closes. I am still laughing. “You thought that was good, hmm?”

  “Yes. That was perfect,” I say and adjust myself so I can turn. “Everything happens for a reason, right?”

  She tilts her head, and when she mimics my position, her movement causes the scent of her perfume to envelop me. “You’re right. It does.”

  “So, tell me…what should I expect tonight?”

  She chuckles. “A lot of almost-naked women. And some pretty classy men. Not a lot of weirdos in this club. The bouncers are good about shutting things down if they get out of hand.”

  “You’re going to take care of me?”

  Her lips are sealed tight, and she puffs her cheeks out as she nods.

  “I don’t mean…” Except I do mean that way. “You know what I mean.”

  Again, she nods, and I pray the smile coming to my lips is one of those smiles that matches how my soul is feeling. I love every second of it, and I make a mental note about how lovely the experience is.