by Erin Zak
I shrug and let a small smile appear. “I have an idea, yes.”
She laughs as she leans back in her chair. “Surely you don’t mean me.”
“Of course not,” I say softly. “That would be insane.”
She nods. “But incredibly romantic.” She clasps her hands and rests them in her lap.
“That’s me. The insane romantic.”
“You’re far from insane.” Her expression makes it look as if she’s scared of whatever she’s thinking. “Will you dance with me?”
“Now?” I glance around. We’d be the only ones dancing, and I wonder if she is aware of that, and if she is, does she really not care?
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I stand and extend my hand, which she takes. Her hand is soft, slightly clammy. Is she nervous? The DJ, a young woman with a black driver’s cap, makes eyes at me, and I hope she can see we need something slow and sensual. When the bar fills with the smooth voice of Leon Bridges singing “River,” I say a silent thank you. Cecily slides her arm around my waist, pulls me close, and places my other hand in hers. She’s comfortable leading, so I hand over the reins. I am loving every second of this. From the way she smells to the feeling of her arm around me to the way her body feels pressed into mine.
I can hear her singing the words, and it takes every last ounce of self-control I can muster to not kiss her. My body is screaming at me to do it. My heart has already started to berate me for not doing it. But my brain knows it’s too soon. It’s too much. This whole thing is too much.
But damn, she is absolutely the perfect amount.
Cecily
Francesca is exactly what I needed. She is sexy and fun and so genuine. Since the moment I met her, I have not once wondered where I stand with her. I cannot even begin to describe how refreshing she is. She is exactly who she presents herself as, and I want so badly to know every single detail about her. Asking about the woman who broke her heart pushed her a little too far, I fear. I can understand, which is why I backed off. We’ve only known each other for a little more than a day.
Holy cow.
The reality of the truth slams into me, almost stopping me in my tracks. One day? Is that even possible? I feel as if I’ve known her forever. We’ve clicked in a way I didn’t really think possible. I’ve never had an instant attraction to anyone, friendship or otherwise. I am not an open book. While I don’t mind talking about myself in a general way, it takes a while for me to let someone in. Francesca, though, I want to open my entire being to her. I want her to read every word and devour me. Willow never moved me like this, and that thought frightens me. I made big decisions in my life based on everything I had with her.
When I decided to leave Luke, I wanted to be with Willow, yes, but I also no longer saw myself with him. I wanted so badly to fix the hurt I caused. I wanted to see where my relationship with Willow could go. But ultimately, I wanted to see how it felt to be happy again. Luke, bless his heart, is a good man. But I want to be in love with the person I sleep next to in bed every night.
And Willow was that person. Was…God. What am I doing? Maybe she still is, and my vision is cloudy. Maybe I still need her, and I’m just confused, which is very possible. The way she’s acted since I got here has confused me. Seeing her made me feel that same old weird mix of excited and nervous. But then her actions, the way she spoke to me, her admitting she strayed, her not being happy that I was separated, all of that made me realize that even though she’s no longer far away physically, she’s never before felt so far away mentally.
All of this is my fault. I’m the one who wouldn’t make a move before she left. I’m the one who wanted to stay married. I was scared of disappointing my family, of being in a relationship with a woman when my relationship with my husband should be the most important one.
I’ve been a hot mess for the past seven years of my life. From trying to get pregnant to in vitro to miscarriage after miscarriage to Luke pulling away to me pulling away to letting Willow woo me. My whole life has fallen apart, and it really has nothing to do with her.
Everything is my fault.
This guilt is awful. I’m a horrible person. I really am. Nothing I’ve done is anything I’m proud of. Even the successes I’ve had at work happened when I’ve put other things in my life on hold.
I am now standing in the lobby of Francesca’s apartment complex having a major life realization. Or is it a crisis?
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?
I should have left my marriage the moment I knew Luke and I were no longer happy. But I didn’t. I was stubborn and afraid of everything. What would my parents think? What would my friends think? Why did I even care about any of that? I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is, I let fear control me. And I ruined what Willow and I could have had.
Her sleeping with someone else is my fault.
Her finding another woman is my fault.
All of this is my fault, and I am a dreadful human being, and why am I doing this now with Francesca? Sweet, beautiful, loving Francesca with the gorgeous soul and complex personality. What am I doing?
“Hey?”
I glance over at her as we board the elevator in her apartment complex. I am fighting tears. I can feel them stinging my eyes. I have no freaking idea what I’m doing. I know what going up to her apartment means. And I am not ready for this. Sex with her…with Francesca. I might as well see myself out now.
I’m in a horrible place. An awful dark place with no way to escape. And to top it off, she’s going to take one look at my body, and that’ll be the end of everything. She won’t like my imperfections. She won’t like the stretch marks from my weight gain. She won’t like the way my thighs jut outward. She won’t like my belly. She won’t like how gravity has affected my breasts. I am such a mess. I am getting more and more worried as I stand there not answering her.
“Cecily?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Nope.”
She chuckles. “Your honesty is amazing. People ever tell you that?”
I laugh and breathe out. “I’m sorry. I’m really sort of freaking out.”
“I can walk you back to your place. It’s a short walk. I promise.”
“No.” I raise my hand. “I just…” The bell dings, and the doors slide open. She stretches her arm out to hold the doors from closing. She places her other hand on my arm. “I don’t think I can have sex tonight.”
The smile that stretches across her face is breathtaking. I feel as if I may swoon and darn, maybe I am ready to have sex with her. “You’re so sure I was going to try?”
“You weren’t?”
She steps out of the elevator, still holding the door open, her right hand outstretched to me. “Come inside. I promise, I will be a saint.”
After one beat, two, three, I finally take her hand and let her lead me down the wide hallway to her apartment. She fumbles with keys, and when we get to the end of the hall, she slides one into her lock. When the door opens, a light flips on in the entryway. I step inside and look around. The space smells like her. Not just her perfume, but like her. We toe our heels off, the shoes clunking as they hit the shiny black tile floor. I follow her across the cold surface. She’s still pulling me, which is sort of turning me on, and I’m so confused by how my body is responding to her. One second, I want her to rip my clothes off, the next I’m scared of her and how this whole thing might screw me up. Or screw her up.
The rest of her apartment is dark, but before we go any farther, she stops in the kitchen area we’re tiptoeing through and grabs two water bottles from the refrigerator. She pads back to me and takes my hand again, and we make our way to the other side of her apartment. She flips a switch, and a lamp next to a giant king-sized bed goes on. Her room is painted light gray, and her bedspread is a dark purple. She lets go of my hand—I miss the contact almost instantly—and disappears into a dark room I assume is the closet. She reappears holding a Noto
rious B.I.G. T-shirt.
“Here. You can wear this. We’re sleeping here. That’s all.”
I take the T-shirt, and she points to a room.
“Go change. I won’t peek. There’s a new toothbrush in the top drawer on the left.”
Her sincerity is so refreshing. I feel my body reacting to it, to the way her words make me feel. I do as she instructs. I flip on the lights and find myself in the middle of a very large bathroom. Everything is white. The subway tiles, the flooring, the countertops, the rugs, the towels. My black outfit makes a stark contrast. I peel off my clothes and fold them, stacking each garment in a neat pile next to the sink. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror when I slide my bra off.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. My reflection takes me by surprise. As worried and unsure of myself I am, I look…happy? I wash my face, brush my teeth, and take one last look in the mirror. Of course, I look better with makeup, but my skin looks fresh, and my eyes are bright, and for the briefest of seconds, I feel pretty. When I open the door and head through the dimness back to the bed, Francesca is nowhere to be found.
I look at her room again. This might be the only time I’m ever in it, so I want to remember the details. The way the purple looks against the gray. The lively artwork. The black rugs on the floor. The ornate light fixture on the ceiling. The curtains are closed, so I creep over to them. After fumbling to find the opening, I pull one open. The apartment looks out onto the Strip. I am in awe of the lights when I hear her gently clear her throat.
“We can sleep with them open if you want.”
Her hand lands on the small of my back. The sensation causes a chill to shoot through my body. I look over at her tight white tank top and white boy shorts. She has also washed her makeup off, and I can smell the mint from the toothpaste.
I want to taste the mint on her tongue.
My hands start to ache, and for the first time in my life, I understand what she was talking about at the strip club.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t let either of us sleep.” She places a hand on my cheek. Her skin is so soft. I lean into her touch, into the weight of our actions. She smiles as she rubs the soft pad of her thumb over my cheekbone.
“I want you to kiss me.” My words shock me, and judging by the look on her face, they shock her, too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
And my words are cut off by her lips as they crash into mine. I’m thrown off-balance, and my butt hits the window. I chuckle into her kiss, and she pulls away. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m so good.” I have my hands on her neck and pull her back to me. “Don’t stop, please,” I say as I kiss her again. Her lips are full, and the taste of toothpaste is such a turn-on. I am so wet right now, just from a kiss. I am either deprived or a total train wreck. Her warm tongue presses gently to my lips, so I open my mouth and accept her, which is followed by a moan I didn’t even realize I was going to make.
“Jesus,” she whispers against my lips.
“I’m sorry, I just…” I bring her back to me, kiss her deeper, harder, bite gently on her bottom lip, then slide my own tongue into her mouth.
“You just what?”
“I had no idea…” I slide my hand up her neck to her skull, where I press my fingertips into her scalp. “You were going to be…” Her hands are on my back, under my shirt—her shirt—and her knee is sliding between my thighs. “So frickin’ good at this.”
She chuckles when she presses her knee against my center. “What’s it gonna take to get you to curse?”
“You heard it once,” I say as I pull away. She’s smiling, her lips plump and used. She is sex personified, and I am frightened by how badly I want her.
“Oh, I’ll succeed again.” She leans in and captures my lips for one more deep, sensual kiss. She leaves me breathless before she breaks away. “Come to bed. Not for…” She kisses me again. “Not for sex.” She places tiny kisses along my jawline, down my neck, across the part of my chest exposed by the V-neck. “Not yet.” She places one more kiss on my lips before she slides her hand into mine, and I intertwine our fingers. She leads me to the bed, and we crawl under the purple comforter and sheet. I can barely feel my legs. And my God, I am soaked. I am embarrassed, especially since she had her knee pressed into me, but she either didn’t notice or it doesn’t bother her.
She is on her back, so she spreads her arm wide and motions for me to come closer. I snuggle into her side, my head resting right above her breasts, which are ample, and my mind is wandering so much at the moment, I can barely function. She smells like Noxzema and lavender. I love how both smell, so I breathe deep as I place my hand on her stomach near the hem of her tank top. I feel bare skin. I let my finger slide along the smooth softness of her stomach. She’s hard in places I don’t think I’ve ever been hard in. And her skin is silky. My thumb hits the waistline of her underpants, and I slide it under.
She moans softly. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to remember everything,” I whisper. “I don’t want to forget a single detail about this night.”
“I won’t let you forget anything.” She kisses the top of my head. These tiny things she keeps doing are causing me to fall deeper and deeper into her. I should tell her to stop. I should tell her how hard it’s making this to not dive headfirst into her. But I don’t want her to stop. She sighs. “I promise.”
“Francesca?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for being the other woman with me.” I smile as she chuckles. “For everything, really.”
“Ditto, my love. Ditto.”
I slide my hand across her stomach and rest it on her hip, my fingers pressing into her as I drift off to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Cecily
I wake every hour from around three in the morning until six. I am not a fan of sleeping in a new bed. It’s not really a big deal most of the time, but I feel bad every time I wake up. I’m not sure if it’s guilt or excitement or what. It can’t be guilt. Every time I look at Francesca sleeping soundly next to me, I feel at ease.
The first rays of sunlight are starting to peek over the mountain range in the distance. Her room seems even bigger in the early morning light. I wonder how much money she makes, then curse myself for thinking about something so inconsequential. Money has never been an issue for me. At first, leaving Luke meant living on my income alone. The thought scared me, but I make really great money. And now with the promotion? I will be fine. I won’t struggle. And neither will he. He’s doing just as well now as an athletic director. I know we’ll be okay.
Won’t we?
I glance at Francesca. She looks so peaceful. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, but it’s not nearly as messy as I’m sure mine is. She must not move a lot in her sleep. I toss and turn, and my mind races. Part of the beauty of being someone who has been having an affair, I guess.
When I turn to my side, the movement causes her to stir. Her eyes slide open. She blinks a couple times, then slides her eyes closed. “What are you doing awake?”
“Thinking,” I whisper, and the side of her mouth ticks upward.
“About?”
“You.”
“And?”
“What we’re doing.”
She smiles, eyes still closed. “Are you a Pisces?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You like to overthink things, don’t you?” She places her hand on my hip and gently pulls herself closer, sliding across her deep purple sheets.
“I do.”
“Talk to me. What is your brain saying?”
I move a few strands of hair behind her ear. I caress down her jawline to her chin. “It’s saying I should leave.”
“And what else?”
“It’s saying you’re too good to be true.”
“And?”
“It’s saying I’m getting myself into something that probably doesn’t have a good outcome.”
She smiles aga
in, her eyes still shut. Her eyelashes are long, even without makeup. She moves her hand from my hip to my side, where my bra would be if I was wearing it. “What is your heart saying?”
I can smell her breath. It’s morning breath, yes, but I can’t help but move my face closer before I say, “It’s telling me to not let you go.” With my fingers on her chin, I move her face so I can kiss her, but I’m so nervous to make the first move. I know she wants it as much as I do, if not more, but I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to start this with her when I leave Monday. I don’t want…but I do. I want her. I want this. And I want to kiss her until my lips are bruised and swollen.
“Then don’t let me go,” she whispers as her eyes slide open. “Stay with me today. I have the day off.”
“I thought you work Saturdays?”
“I gave up my shift.”
“Francesca…isn’t that a lot of money to miss out on?”
She waves in a sweeping motion. “Do you think I give a fuck about money?”
I laugh and roll onto my back away from her, her lips, her eyes, her everything. “So what do we do today? I mean, a whole day to ourselves? I don’t even know where to begin.”
She sits up. I place my hand on her back where her tank top has ridden up. Her skin is warm, and when I brush across the bare spot, she looks over her shoulder. “Would you go with me to visit my family?”
I freeze. “Are you serious?”
“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.” She turns so she’s not looking at me. “You’re just a friend.” She shrugs.
Something in her voice affects me, my heart, and I smile. “Of course, I’ll go with you.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out, and I can see the worry leave her shoulders.
“Hey?”
“Hmm?”
“Look at me,” I say quietly. She turns, places a hand to brace herself on the bed, and exposes a perfect profile of her covered breast. Her nipple is hard, and I have to force myself to stop staring. “Do you want me to be more than a friend?”
The way her eyes light up is adorable. “Yes.” But her face falls just enough that I think I know what she’s going to say. “My mom and abuela are old-school, though.”