Lauren laughed and drank his toast. She wouldn’t let him help, just as he hadn’t let her help the night before, so he indulged himself and watched her. The wine was cool and a little acidic, the perfect refreshment after their enthusiastic lovemaking. The stir-fry was prepared quickly and she served it with a flourish.
“I would have done frozen spring rolls, too,” she said, with a wicked smile. “But I figured they’d be too much of an indulgence for you.”
“You’re the only indulgence I want tonight.”
“You say that to all the women who jump your bones.”
“No, not all of them.” They ate and compared each other’s technique with chopsticks, then he saluted her with his glass. “This is really good. Thanks.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you that it was easy.”
He shook his head. “Keep your secrets.”
“I might have guessed you’d say that.”
He smiled that she teased him, and wondered if the evening could be any more perfect.
Maybe if they did it again...
“Is that what it is?” Lor asked after they’d had a few bites. “The novelty?”
Kyle didn’t follow. “The novelty of...?”
“Different women. Different poses. Different sources of pleasure.” She gave him an intent look. “You said once that you wanted to try everything once, so that every experience would be the first time.”
“Which is when it’s more potent, because it’s a discovery,” he agreed, remembering that conversation very well.
“So, that’s why you liked tonight so much. Because I could have been another woman.”
Kyle glanced her way, guessing what she wanted to hear, and his heart sank. They were heading into familiar territory too soon.
Could he change the course of the conversation?
“Sure,” he agreed lightly.
“So, a woman with a large wardrobe and a taste for role-playing could sustain your interest longer, since every time would feel like the first time in a way.” Lauren ate a bite. “At least for a while.”
“I guess. Maybe we should talk about something else,” he suggested. “Like where you’ve been hiding that merry widow.”
She waved her chopsticks at him and shook her head. “Nope. You’re can’t call the shots on this. Tonight, I’m a dominatrix, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Kyle spoke lightly, but he was pretty sure of where she was going with this. He didn’t like it one bit.
He should have anticipated that Lauren would surprise him.
“The thing is that if it’s always the first time, then there’s no real intimacy. There can’t be, because there isn’t time for it to develop.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, you couldn’t,” she ceded easily, no charge to her words. “You’ll just have to trust me that there’s something very satisfactory about being able to physically please someone you love, to know what drives that person wild, to control their release or tease them just the right way.” Lauren shrugged. “It draws you closer in a way, into your own little refuge from the world, where you understand how to reassure each other with touch, and without saying a word.” She looked up and met his gaze. “To have that kind of sanctuary and that kind of intimacy at the heart of your relationship and your life must be very powerful.”
The very idea terrified Kyle.
He tried to hide it. “And you know this because...”
“My grandmother talked about it to me once. And Mark and I had it for a while, at the beginning.” She looked thoughtful. “I have to think that if our marriage had continued and our connection deepened, it would have been as amazing as Grandma Trixie said.”
Kyle was fascinated. “But now?”
Lauren shrugged. “I can still hope to find it.” She eyed Kyle and smiled, clearly reading his reaction. “And so I strike fear into the heart of Mr. Once Is Always Enough,” she teased. “Is that why it’s always the first time, because that way you’re never vulnerable?”
“I’m not vulnerable,” he protested, wondering if there was truth in her words.
“No, because no one can hurt you while you remain alone on your island. You don’t care enough about anyone to have your heart broken.” She took a sip of her wine, watching him all the while, and he hoped he looked impassive. She put down her glass. “But here’s the thing, Kyle. What if keeping yourself from ever getting hurt means that you’re not really living at all?”
“Are you kidding me? I live every day to the fullest...”
“Physically, maybe. Emotionally, your world must be very small.”
Her insinuation was provocative. “Really?”
“Really. Think of a play. You’ve got the starring role or roles. The protagonists. They drive the story. They engage with other characters and have motivation and goals, and most of the lines. Without them, there isn’t a play because there isn’t a story.”
“Okay.” Kyle stabbed at his dinner with his chopsticks, feeling more annoyed than was typical for him. He felt that a wonderful interlude was being shredded before his eyes.
He didn’t like it one bit.
He knew he shouldn’t care and that he did just annoyed him even more.
“Then maybe in this play you have a minor character,” Lauren said. “He just walks across the stage. He has no lines. He might be comic relief. He might have a particular costume or action, but he just appears and disappears. Maybe he does it a few times.”
“But if that actor didn’t show up and they took the role out of the play, it wouldn’t make a substantive difference,” Kyle concluded, trying to hide that he was insulted. “If that’s an analogy, you’re forgetting about F5.”
“No, I’m not. But how long will that legacy endure, even if it is one?” Lauren shook her head. “I don’t think of my salon as a legacy or even as my great contribution to Manhattan. It’s part of what I am but not all of it.”
Kyle winced. “Is this the babies talk?”
Lauren laughed. “No! That’s one legacy people can leave, certainly, but it’s not the only one.” She surveyed him, her eyes sparkling. “Although my sister did suggest that I could use you as an unofficial sperm donor.”
Kyle glared at her. “And that’s funny?” he demanded, truly outraged. “To plan to create a child without giving that child a family or even two parents to rely upon?”
Lauren sobered as she watched him. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”
“Not the one you might think,” he retorted. “People are just too casual about this kind of thing.” He pointed to himself. “I know my limitations. Don’t even imagine that this would be a good idea.”
“I told Katelyn she was wrong, pretty much for the same reason,” Lauren said thoughtfully. “I didn’t expect you to so vehemently agree.”
“Why not?”
“I thought you’d cite your own disinterest in responsibility, not any concern for the child’s future.”
“It only makes sense to think of the child,” he argued. “I’m not that self-absorbed.”
“And there are enough fucked-up kids in the world without you adding any more,” she said, echoing his words of the night before. “I didn’t realize it was a manifesto.”
Kyle took a steadying breath. He’d pretty much lost his appetite, as well as his euphoric mood. “How did your sister even know about me? Or about this?”
“She guessed that I was having sex. Actually, the dress was her idea. I’d jammed it into the back of the closet and kind of forgotten about it.” Lauren frowned. “I think I bought it when I was shopping with Katelyn, actually. She said it looked so awesome on me, but I never felt right wearing it.”
“Until tonight.”
She smiled. “Yes, it turned out to be a good choice.”
“Keeping it?”
“Probably not.”
Kyle wasn’t used to having his compliments so easily dismissed. “Should I be expecting Ty to take issue with me breaki
ng my promise?”
Lauren shook her head. “Katelyn doesn’t know your name. She just knows I’ve had wild sex with a hot guy on a whim.” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “The secret of your identity is safe with me.” She took a sip, then remembered something that almost made her laugh. “Actually, Ty suggested that I should ask you to be my date to his wedding. You know he’d only do that if he had no clue about this.”
“That’s for sure.”
“And he even warned me that you might want sex in exchange for the fake date.”
Kyle didn’t find this as funny as Lauren obviously did. He braced himself for an invitation that seemed inevitable, but Lauren finished her dinner.
“Are you going to?” he prompted finally. “Or should I be asking you?”
“Oh, I’m not going there. Katelyn was right.”
Kyle knew his incomprehension showed.
“My mother also suggested that I should ask whoever I was seeing to be my date for the wedding...”
“Your mother knows about us?” Kyle felt far out of his depth.
Lor, in contrast, seemed completely at ease. “No, she knows I’m seeing someone, because I was out last night when she called and she wanted to know why. Long story. But the point is that Katelyn said it would be a mistake to ask you to the wedding, since the happy day is two months away and what we’re doing here will have run its course, which means it would be awkward.” Lauren nodded. “She’s absolutely right.”
“How so?” Kyle demanded, setting his plate aside. “Twelve years ago we had something that ended, and things don’t seem to be awkward.”
Well, they hadn’t been before they’d sat down to dinner. He still thought he could save the evening and pull the conversation back into safer territory.
Familiar territory.
Right now, he’d even welcome the commitment talk. At least he knew how that one went. This conversation was bewildering. He had no idea where it would lead.
“Not here, in your apartment, after we’ve had sex again and I’m wearing your shirt,” Lauren agreed. “If we’d met anywhere else just out of the blue, it would have been an ordeal.”
“I don’t think so.” Kyle got up and took his plate to the sink. He didn’t like the suggestion that Lauren would find meeting him anywhere to be an ordeal.
“What about that day at F5?” Her tone wasn’t playful anymore and Kyle knew exactly what day she meant. He turned to look at her. “You acted like we were strangers,” she said and he heard the accusation in her tone.
So, that had stung.
“I’d promised Ty.” It sounded like an excuse even when he said it.
Her brows rose. “You said that last night. But you know, that wasn’t very honest.”
Kyle felt agitated. She was right and he was wrong and he didn’t like the view. The whole evening, which he’d thought was too perfect to go wrong, was completely fucked.
“I was wrong,” he admitted. “I made a mistake. I should have said something then. I’m sorry.”
She sipped her wine, as if it didn’t matter, and that annoyed Kyle even more.
“Maybe we should go to the wedding together,” he found himself saying.
“Because you don’t want to count on finding a date at the last minute?”
“Because we’ll both be going. It makes sense in a way.”
“And really doesn’t make sense in another.” Lauren finished her wine. “Tell you what: let’s talk thirty days before the wedding. That’s when the R.S.V.P.s have to be in. If neither of us have a date, we can agree to go together then. No pressure, no expectations. Deal?”
“Because you’re going to be looking for something better by then?” The idea bothered him, a lot, but Kyle didn’t want to be the one making a possessive claim.
“It could happen.” Lauren rinsed dishes and stacked them beside the sink. Kyle intervened and washed the pots, his movements quick with frustration. “You don’t need to be insulted,” she said, reading him one more time. “You want what you want and I want what I want. Like you said, you can’t give me what I want.”
“Emotional engagement,” he said through his teeth, more than ready to challenge her for a change. “Why would you want that? Because it worked out so well last time?”
Lauren winced and Kyle felt bad for provoking her, at least until she leaned one hip against the counter and gave as good as she got. “I loved Mark. I loved him with everything in me. I’m not ashamed of that. I took a gamble and acted on that love. I felt stupid when I found out what he was doing, but now I’m thinking it’s not stupid to be optimistic. It’s not stupid to hope for the best and try to have it. I reached for the brass ring, and even though I missed—or miscalculated, or fell for the wrong guy—just trying makes me a stronger person. Isn’t that what you tell people when they’re doing physical training?”
“Sure, but it’s not the same.”
“It’s exactly the same,” she insisted. “My heart is wounded and it will always have a scar, but it’s bigger than it was before I loved Mark. Healing will make it stronger. Even better, this transition has given me a new opportunity, a chance to reinvent myself as a better, bolder person.” Her gaze was challenging. “No one can take that from me.”
She turned to pack up her gear and Kyle watched, thinking there was something dismissive about her body language. This was going all wrong, and he had no clue how to fix it.
That was a new experience and this time, he didn’t like novelty at all.
“You reminded me of what it was like to be alive, Kyle. It was why I called you yesterday and you delivered, just like I knew you would.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, a kiss that was far too chaste for his preference. “Thank you. I hope you find what you’re looking for, whatever it is.”
“That sounds like you’re leaving,” he said, a little disoriented.
“I am.” She smiled at him, but there was resignation in her eyes.
He’d cast that very same smile across an apartment or hotel room a thousand times, always on his way out the door.
Whatever they’d been doing was over.
For good.
“I’ll sleep well,” she concluded softly. “Thanks for that, too.”
Kyle found himself on the verge of protesting, an invitation for her to return on his lips. He swallowed those words, knowing that she was exactly right, but feeling an unfamiliar regret all the same.
He reminded himself that he’d known it would be this way.
No, he’d assumed that he’d be the one calling it to an end, that he’d be in control, not that he’d be the one being dumped.
Another unwelcome first.
Lauren packed up her things in silence, then waved to him from the door. “Take care.”
“Yeah. Glad I could help,” Kyle said to the closing door. He threw back the last of his wine. It tasted bitter and roiled in his gut.
It wasn’t nearly as tart as the larger glass he had next.
What was wrong with him? He had exactly what he’d insisted he wanted.
But the dissatisfaction within him grew with every passing moment that evening. His apartment seemed empty, soulless, forgettable.
So did his life.
Even he knew that perspective was a very bad sign.
He just had to work through it. Exercise. Return to routine. Seduce another woman. Get back in his rhythm and forget Lauren.
Again.
It hadn’t been easy twelve years ago, and Kyle had a feeling it was going to be even tougher this time.
At least he hadn’t been the next asshole to break her heart.
Funny how that didn’t feel like much of a triumph.
* * *
Lauren felt amazing.
She felt strong and sure in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. In taking control of her encounter with Kyle, she felt as if she’d seized control of her life again. Maybe she should have dominated Mark once or twice. Maybe she shouldn’t have let their
relationship drift into routine.
Maybe Mark’s desire for other women was partly her own fault. Maybe she should have appreciated what she had and tried harder to maintain it.
The realization shook her a little, but it also fed her resolve to behave differently. She began cleaning as soon as she got home, invigorated by her few hours with Kyle. She was decisive as she hadn’t been in a while, and filled with new purpose.
Maybe she’d ask Mark to go to Ty’s wedding with her.
Maybe she should check that there was nothing to salvage from their marriage. What she’d told Kyle was true. She had loved Mark with all her heart. That she’d invested as much emotionally as she had meant that she should be sure of her decision before she moved on.
It was too late to call him and the next day was Friday. Did Mark still go out with his friends? Lauren didn’t really want to know. She’d call him over the weekend and meet for a coffee the following week.
It would only be fair and she knew it was what he had been asking her to do. She hadn’t wanted to meet him while she felt vulnerable, but in this moment, Lauren’s view of her own needs and desires was crystal clear.
She could thank Kyle for that.
And she supposed she had. Lauren smiled as she hung the red dress back in her closet, figuring it had earned the right to stay.
The first thing she cleaned was the kitchen, because she thought it would be easier. In no time at all, she had a stack of crystal vases, fancy platters and vases that had all been wedding gifts and which she had never used. She never would, either. She thought she probably had some of the original boxes in her storage locker and would look the next day.
Dishes were easy. She had the set she’d bought when she moved in, and she still liked it. There were far too many plastic storage containers. She’d gotten into the habit of saving yogurt tubs and other containers from groceries, because they looked useful, and now the collection was spilling out of the cupboards. She filled four bags for recycling. She knew she was avoiding the utensil drawer, not because it was chaotic but because there wasn’t a good way to make it less so.
She should stop somewhere this weekend and buy one of those trays that made compartments in the drawer.
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