No one had ever made her feel the way he did in bed. Like she was completely and utterly out of control. Somehow he knew how to touch her in a way that made pleasure radiate throughout her entire body, no matter where his hands actually were. His fingers brushing across her face were enough to make her push her hips toward him, anticipating where he would take her and how. And the stuff he said! Despite her experience, Tracy had never been much into talking in bed, and if a man talked, she invariably wished he would shut the hell up and get on with it. But with Brendan it was different. She liked talking to him. And not only did he like talking, he was always saying the kind of shocking things that would have made her blush if she wasn’t so damn turned on by it all. And despite that, nothing with him felt dirty or taboo, it just felt . . . right.
Two weeks ago, while they were making love, she had been overcome with the desire to feel him, not a rubberized version of him, but him. And she told him so.
When she said the words, he’d hesitated, and for a moment she was sorry she’d brought it up, her face burning with shame.
Okay, he said finally. So we’ll go get tested.
She nodded, relieved that he hadn’t recoiled at the idea altogether.
And you’re on the pill, right?
Of course, Tracy had laughed.
Well, you know I had to ask, Brendan said. You look at Cullen and you get that hungry look those women who don’t have babies sometimes get.
Tracy had reared back and slugged him with a pillow. Oh you should be so lucky as to have babies with me, Brendan Cole.
Well they would be beautiful babies, he said seriously. And then after a pause. But to be clear, you are on the pill, right?
I am, she told him again, looking him in the eye. But there’s one other thing.
Isn’t there always? Brendan asked, lowering his head to take one of her nipples between his lips.
If we do this, you understand you still have to use condoms with any other partners you might have, right?
He froze for a moment and released her nipple looking at her for what seemed like a long while. She couldn’t figure out what his expression meant. But finally he nodded and lowered his head to her breast once again.
Tracy had swallowed her hurt.
Now she had all the confirmation she needed that he was still sleeping with Meghan. They had never discussed monogamy, or even what they were calling this thing they were doing. And it was fine, because she didn’t know what she wanted the answer to be if they tried to define it. What she did know was that he was still the same man, and that he was not someone she could consider really being with. And it wasn’t as though he said anything to indicate that he wanted to be with her in that way either. Which was totally fine.
She’d gotten what she asked for after all. They spent time together; lots of time. And he was still a really, really good friend. He never made her feel like he didn’t want to be with her and if he had dates with Meghan, he was discreet enough that she never detected it. And she was mostly incurious about that. Mostly.
There had only been the one time when he was up in the kitchen and she spotted his phone sitting on the entryway table as she headed for the bedroom to change into one of his t-shirts. On the way back, she stopped and picked it up, not really forming any clear intention at all about whether to look at it. The face lit up and she was surprised that it didn’t require a passcode to unlock it. Tracy’s finger slid, almost without her consent, down to the phone icon and before she thought about why, she tapped it once and began scrolling through the recent calls.
When you’re done looking for whatever you’re looking for in my phone, Brendan’s voice called from above, could you bring it to me? I need to return some email.
Tracy had almost dropped the damn thing in fright, and her face became hot with embarrassment. She took a moment to regain her composure and go back up to the kitchen, handing him the phone and preparing for an angry—and completely justified—lecture about boundaries, trust and privacy. But all Brendan had done was take it from her with a mumbled, thanks sweetheart, followed by a playful grope of her butt. And when she sneaked a look at him out of the corner of her eyes, he indeed seemed to be returning email and by all appearances was not giving a second thought to her snooping.
She sighed now, fighting her frustration that she still hadn’t figured him out. Normally, she would have had the benefit of Riley’s thinking, but neither of them had told their friends what was going on. It hadn’t started as a secret, but once Cullen was born the fact that they were sleeping together, it seemed so irrelevant to anything Shawn and Riley were going through that they just didn’t mention it. And now that so much time had passed, it was going to be awkward to break the news.
Maybe at the house today, Tracy thought as she looked through her closet.
In that kind of setting, she seriously doubted Brendan was going to be able to keep himself from touching her in a way that made it apparent they were toge . . . well, not together, but whatever. Not that he was the jealous type at all. When he touched her, it wasn’t about possession, but just about the fact that he didn’t seem to be able to help himself.
Come to think of it, Brendan was disturbingly unaffected when other men looked at her. On one of their many trips to Dean & DeLuca last weekend some guy had been gawking directly and unashamedly at her ass, encased in tights, because she and Brendan had just come back from the gym. And instead of going ballistic, and becoming insanely possessive the way Shawn would have about Riley, Brendan only smirked. On the walk back to the apartment, she’d sulked until he finally asked her what was wrong, sounding more amused than concerned.
Why didn’t you just give me to him? she demanded. He clearly wanted me and you clearly didn’t care.
Why should I care? Brendan said.
Gee, thanks!
She stalked ahead of him, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Tears of anger, of course. Not of hurt, anger. Brendan hurried to catch her, which didn’t take him too much effort, and put down the grocery bags, hugging her tight.
Why should I care if some dude wants to look at your ass for a couple seconds too long? he said, speaking into her hair. All I know is two things: one, if he ever tried to touch it I’d fuck him up. And two, I’m the one who gets to take that fine ass home and put it on my chin.
Tracy’s eyes had opened wide at the lewd reference to what he’d done to her just that very morning. But what he said did help her relax just a little. She’d relaxed even more when they got back to the apartment and after their shower, up against the bathroom wall, he showed her just how much he appreciated her “fine ass.”
Shaking her head, she refocused on the matter at hand, finding something to wear for the party for Cullen’s blessing. Brendan told her he secretly hated the name Shawn and Riley had chosen.
I love that name! Tracy protested.
White name, Brendan muttered.
Oh my god, Brendan, there is no such thing! Tracy had gasped, tossing a wad of unused toilet paper at him.
He had walked in on her as she was peeing and begun to shave; something he did so often now she didn’t even notice or react to it anymore.
Okay, so what kind of name is Shanika? he challenged.
That’s different, Tracy said wiping herself.
So there are Black names but no white names.
Well, the . . . the . . . Tracy stood at the sink next to him and rinsed her hands. The difference is . . .
Thought so, Brendan said nodding. Like I said. White name. At least his middle name is Brendan. A strong, masculine, race-neutral name that any kid could be proud of.
Tracy had rolled her eyes and left him to finish shaving.
Okay, this was ridiculous. She needed to pick an outfit and stop thinking about Brendan. She’d only just left him about forty-five minutes ago for heaven’s sake. Then her landline was ringing and she ran to grab it. Probably checking to see she got home, okay. At least she wasn’t the only one who was . . .
“Hello,” she said, trying to sound bored.
“Tracy, I’ve been trying to reach you for several days now. I think it’s rather inconsiderate of you not to call me back given all that’s happening with you father.”
Tracy closed her eyes and cursed herself for not checking the caller id before picking up.
“Sorry, Mom. It’s been rather hectic at work.”
“They have you working weekends now?” her mother demanded. “Seems rather unreasonable.”
“How is Malcolm?” Tracy asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Your father is fine,” her mother responded, pointedly emphasizing the word ‘father’. “Fine under the circumstances at least.”
Three and a half months ago, her mother’s husband had suffered a massive stroke, leaving on side of his body all but immobilized. Tracy had flown out briefly to provide her support, but managed to leave after only a few days when her aunts had shown up. She’d pointed out to her mother that as a practical matter, they were better equipped to stick around and offer help because they were retired, and she on the other hand had to work. She promised upon leaving that she would fly home to Georgia at least every other weekend but had not been back since. Hence her avoidance of her mother’s calls.
“And Riley had her baby last month,” Tracy said, to further bolster her alibi. “Today was the blessing, and as the godmother, I had to, y’know, do . . . stuff.”
“Hmm.” Her mother sounded unimpressed. “How she stayed married to that rap performer after everything, I’ll never understand. And now to have a baby with him. I suppose she’s made her bed.”
Tracy swallowed hard. “Shawn is an amazing husband. And he’s going to be an amazing father.”
“Yes. Well. I’m more concerned about your father, Tracy. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve not been here. Just because he can’t speak doesn’t mean he can’t think. Or feel.”
“I know. It’s just been so crazy. I’ll make plans to come soon.”
“How soon, Tracy Ann?”
She hated when her mother used her first and middle names like that. Tracy could just see her face when she said them; her thin lips pinched, her powdered face drawn into a frown. Her mother frowned quite a bit, and whenever Tracy thought of her, it was with a look of disapproval, bordering on distaste marring her otherwise handsome and attractive features. Occasionally, to her horror, Tracy would walk past a mirror and see a trace of her mother’s angry, disapproving face looking back at her.
“I’ll find a date and make a reservation next week. I’ll call you when I know what it is,” Tracy said.
“Good. And please don’t make me hunt for you again, Tracy. It worries me. And I have enough worries as it is.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be sorry, Tracy Ann,” her mother said, as she always did when Tracy apologized. “Just do better.”
She hung up and Tracy felt the tension leave her shoulders. Talking to her mother always made her feel like she’d failed in some fundamental but unspecified manner. Today at least, her failure was clear: she was a bad daughter for having not come to see Malcolm, for not returning calls, for avoiding going back to Georgia to join the vigil at the bedside of a man who, however damaged, would probably outlive them all.
Tracy turned to more pleasant matters, finally choosing to wear her emerald green, stretched silk, sleeveless Akris dress with the jeweled neckline and ribbed pleated skirt that stopped just above her knees. With it she would wear her nude pumps, the ones that made her legs look incredible. Having settled on her outfit, she jumped in the shower. Her hair, which she had allowed to go practically wild lately, would take some work so she’d better start now before it was time to drive out to Jersey.
Across the already crowded room, when Tracy walked in, she honed in on one person and one person only. Meghan. Holding a wineglass and wearing a pretty white blouson top and black pencil pant, she was talking and laughing with Robyn Crandall, one of Shawn’s attorneys. Next to her, but engrossed in a separate conversation was Brendan. But he was next to her.
“You made it.”
Tracy turned toward Riley’s voice and hugged her friend. Riley looked amazing to have just given birth a month ago, but her boobs seemed to have gotten larger.
“Breastfeeding,” Riley said following her eyes and shrugging. “You can’t imagine how thrilled Shawn is.”
“With the breastfeeding or the breasts.”
Riley thought for a moment. “Both. Come see Cullen.”
There was no way to graciously admit that at the moment she was more interested in staying downstairs and watching to see whether she could figure out whether Meghan came here with her man. Yes, yes, so he wasn’t officially her man, and he’d never told her he wasn’t seeing Meghan any longer, in fact she’d told herself that she accepted that he probably was. But even if that was the case, did he have to rub her face in it?
And after this morning, when they’d barely wanted to get out of bed long enough to go see their godson blessed . . .
“So here’s one for the books,” Riley said as she and Tracy ascended the stairs to the nursery. “The man who’s been badgering me to get someone to help around the house suddenly doesn’t want anyone here at all. Claims we can do it all on our own.”
“He’s just being overprotective,” Tracy said, her mind elsewhere.
“But what the hell? It’s not like I’m superwoman, or anything. So we’re actually fighting about this now. Except now I’m the one who wants to hire someone if you can believe that.”
“You two thrive on fighting,” Tracy said impatiently. “So please stop acting like you don’t enjoy it.”
Riley stopped and looked at her. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
Tracy looked at her and sighed. “I’m sorry. My mother called just before I got here. I don’t know why I’m taking this out on other people . . .”
“No, it’s okay.” Riley squeezed her shoulder. “I know I’ve become one of those women who only ever talk about their husband and their baby. And you’ve got a lot going on as well . . .”
You have no idea.
“. . . so tell me; how’s Malcolm?”
“He’s stable, I guess. My mother wants me to come home to visit though. Which you know I would rather stab myself in the eye with a pencil than do.”
Riley laughed. “So you’re all out of excuses not to, I’m guessing.”
“I used you and the baby as my excuse this morning but she wasn’t buying it.”
“You can use me anytime,” Riley joked.
When they got to the nursery, Cullen was fast asleep on his back, still wearing his charming little christening gown, breathing long, quiet breaths. Each day he was getting cuter and rounder with the face of a cherub and a beautiful honey-colored complexion; a real golden boy. Tracy smiled in spite of her earlier annoyance. It was impossible not to smile when looking at her little guy.
“I just want to suck on those cheeks,” she whispered.
“I can’t stop kissing them,” Riley admitted. “I look at him and feel like I invented this kind of love. Like no one has ever loved a kid in the history of motherhood as much as I love him. But every mother probably feels that way.”
“Hah. I doubt my mother ever did,” Tracy said dryly.
“Tracy,” Riley turned away from the crib. “Your mother loves you. She’s just hard on you because she wants you to be better than she thinks she was.”
“That’s not a very high standard. As much as she likes to pretend she was perfect.”
Riley seemed not to know what to say to that. Tracy sympathized. Riley’s own relationship with her mother could not be more different than Tracy’s with her mother. How could she understand?
“Anyway,” Tracy said, putting her out of her misery. “Let’s go down and enjoy the party. When did Brendan and Meghan get here?” she added casually.
“Pretty early on. I came downstairs and they
were already here,” Riley shrugged.
That bastard, Tracy thought. Then she smiled at Riley and followed her out of the room and back down the stairs.
The house was becoming more crowded now, with about a hundred and fifty guests or so, and Tracy no longer saw Meghan or Brendan. Riley drifted off to greet her new guests while Tracy speculated that maybe they’d stolen off someplace for some alone time. The very idea of it made her chest constrict. Rather than examine why, or what that feeling meant, she wandered over to grab herself some finger food.
And that was another thing. She was easily a size six now. Not her fighting weight for going into the fall. Everyone knew you gained weight when the weather cooled down, and she did not want to gain weight.
“You look amazing in that dress.”
His voice, right at the shell of her ear, caused her stomach to flutter. For a moment, Tracy forgot that she was angry and when she turned to look at him and it got far worse. Lately, every single time she looked at him, she noticed something else that made him damn near impossible to resist. Like the single dimple he had in his left cheek.
“I hope it comes off easily though,” Brendan said against her neck, his fingers scanning the zipper at the back of her dress. “Because later, I’ma tear that ass u. . .”
“I haven’t seen Shawn yet,” she interrupted him, her face growing warm, not from embarrassment, but in spite of herself, from excitement. “Do you know where he is?”
“Someplace outside I think,” Brendan said.
He was still looking at her with that appraising look, the one that told her he wanted to be doing very, very naughty things to her. Things she wanted him to do. But he was such a fucking asshole. To do what they’d done this morning and then bring Meghan here?
“I’m going to look for him,” Tracy said. She rushed off before he could say anything else.
Funny that Brendan wasn’t the rapper instead of Shawn. He was extraordinarily . . . verbal. In bed and out, he liked to talk about what he was doing, what he wanted to do to her and what he wanted her to do to him; sometimes using language that was so frank and so coarse it made her blush and wonder if she should instead be offended. Maybe she wasn’t offended because his repertoire was so vast and his range so broad. One day they might have raw, crazy, Olympic sex, punctuated by dirty talk and the next he was so tender, and said such beautiful things, she cried as she climaxed. He had her head spinning like a top and she didn’t know how to make it stop. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
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