by Alyse, Jade
“Things you don’t even know. Things between me and Brandon. Things Brandon doesn’t even know.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m scared too.”
“How did you tell him?”
“It was late. I thought…I thought he was asleep. Brandon and I had gotten into a fight about something over the phone. He was out of town. And I rambled. I didn’t think he heard me.”
“Natalie…”
“I don’t want pity. It was my own fault. And now Bellamy knows that I was studying to be a doctor and I almost called off my marriage to Brandon.”
“You what?”
“Which part shocks you more?”
“Oh, I think you know which part.”
Natalie pursed her lips. “Yes, my bridesmaids were helping me put on my wedding dress, thirty minutes prior to when I was supposed to walk down the aisle. And I panicked. I dropped to my knees and became a victim of my own tears. I couldn’t breathe. And I thought about the idea of succumbing to Brandon for the rest of my life. Because as much as I love him, he scares me. My friend, Scotty, the best man, was the only person who could talk some sense into me. He was the only one who knew what I almost did. We never told anyone. The idea that my marriage to the only man I’ve ever really loved is a mistake, scares me. And now Bellamy knows.”
Zuly’s eyes idled over Natalie’s face spellbound. The scrutiny was slightly judgmental, as though Natalie had purposely thrown an obnoxiously large wrench into the perfection that was her life with Brandon.
The unseen orgasm achieved from unwarranted sabotage.
But she remained dry-eyed, and stared back vacantly, obsessing over the idea of what seeing Bellamy would feel like inside.
“Natalie.”
Natalie dropped a napkin on top of her half-eaten sandwich. “I know, I know.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.”
“You know that’s not my style.”
“Try something new today – it’s contagious, apparently.”
Zuly parted her lips to say something, but the irritant ringing of Natalie’s cell phone disrupted them.
Sighing heavily, Natalie reached into her purse to retrieve it.
“Yes, baby.”
“Are you busy?”
It sounded as though her husband was walking outdoors. The sound of his voice soothed her. She released a belabored breath.
“Never for you. What’s up?”
“If you wanted to eat at any restaurant in the city for dinner, where would you choose?”
“I don’t know, baby. I barely know the city, why?”
“Just pick one.”
She quickly searched her brain, but unseen distractions dumbfounded her.
Damn you, Bellamy. She sighed with ill-achieved resolution.
“There was that really fancy Cuban place I was eyeballing a couple of weeks ago. Zuly mentioned something about the food being fantastic.”
“Good, invite her. Seven sound good?”
“I’d rather just meet at home and finish what we started this morning.”
“In due time, baby. Make that seven-fifteen.”
“Brandy, what’s gotten into you?”
“Do you know how to get there?”
“Zuly can show me.”
“Good. I’ll see you there, Tallie. Don’t be late.”
He hung up the phone.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Brandon get that excited about anything, save for the flight down to the Caribbean for their honeymoon. She was his new favorite toy, one he couldn’t wait to explore, under the solitary bliss of palm trees and banana leaf fans.
She suddenly longed for that newness again.
She replaced the phone in her purse, brows furrowed. “Hmm, that was strange.”
“Brandon seems to be quite unpredictable.”
“He’s always been like that. And he wants you to come.”
“What time?”
“Seven-fifteen.”
“You driving?”
Natalie nodded amenably.
“I’m there.”
THE REMAINING HOURS IN THE WORKDAY WENT BY IN A BLUR. The clichéd remark on the day’s time in Natalie’s brain was an applauded interference.
And Bellamy Lambert kept a respectable distance. His eyes didn’t even idle in her direction.
Hell, even Older Lambert pulled her aside and encouraged her to join him on another surgery the following week. “Only when you’re completely ready,” he said. Then he swiftly walked away as though the conversation had never occurred.
She allowed herself the privilege of exuding a burdened breath.
Zuly came to grab her as soon as the first shift nurses were making their final rounds.
Natalie was leafing through the last bit of paperwork, while a nurse breathed over her shoulder. Normally, Bellamy would’ve been there to stop the onslaught of unabashed, indirect micromanagement. She hadn’t seen him. She wanted to find it strange.
But, instead, it was refreshing.
Zuly comfortably rested her elbow on the blade of Natalie’s shoulder, coaxing her. “I’m starving.”
Natalie gazed unwillingly in her friend’s direction. Any sudden movements could mean that she’d see him again. And be faced with the knowledge of what she’d said.
He knows.
“Are you driving?”
Zuly pursed her lips. “No. But I just wanted to remind you of my needs.”
“I knew your needs two hours ago when you spent thirty minutes talking about how great their steak chimichurri was.”
“Fine. But I’m trying to impress a sense of urgency here.”
“Understood. Let me fill out this last form then we’ll get to it.”
“You’re not excited to see your husband?”
Natalie huffed. “I’m always excited to see him. Guilt trips only work on me if you’re six-four, have a huge penis and name rhymes with ‘random’…got it?”
“Point taken. Natalie let’s go!”
She didn’t think to budge until she felt her stomach growl. Harper’s hungry.
She grabbed her purse and her keys, took Zuly’s wrist and led them toward the elevators. The hospital was quiet for once, as though all the patients had opted to sleep and forget their mottled ailments.
Natalie envied their well-deserved sense of calm.
They reached the parking lot when she felt her phone vibrate. The skies had turned; the air was clear, pure, effervescent.
She gazed down at it. Brandon.
“Yes, my baby?”
Her voice was sweet and light. She wanted to tantalize him with it. It drove him crazy.
He sighed. She could hear it in his tenor. How was it possible to still feel such a thing after all of these years? Did it simply get stronger with time?
“I’m here…at the restaurant. And I want to see you.”
“Soon. Zuly and I are getting into the car now.”
The urgency grew, and her fingers trembled. What was that feeling, exactly? Where did it come from? It had to be bigger than love.
“Good. I’m at the bar. There was a small wait. Thirty minutes. I shall enjoy this beer and people-watch until you get here.”
She and Zuly sank into her car. She fumbled to put the key into the ignition.
“Just as long as your watching of people doesn’t involve any attractive females.”
“Never, baby. You should know by now that you drive me nuts.”
“Good. I’ll make sure to remind you of that later.”
She turned the key and got no response from her engine. She locked eyes with Zuly.
Brandon chuckled. “I’ll make sure you uphold your promise.”
She tried the starter again – no response. “Brandy, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
“Love you more.” He hung up.
Natalie looked at Zuly once more. “Shit.”
She then realize
d in all of the haphazard foolishness that the morning had brought her, she’d forgotten to stop at the gas station to fill her tank.
She’d been low for two days.
She sat back in her seat, stupefied.
Zuly mimicked her actions. “So, what are we going to do?”
“I’ll just call Brandon and have him come get us.”
“Natalie, the restaurant’s twenty minutes away. I’ll just drive.”
“Are you sure?”
Zuly started to remove her seatbelt. “Yes. Let’s make haste. I’m starving.”
“I owe you an appetizer or something.”
“Shut up. It’s nothing. Grab your shit. Let’s go. My car’s in the deck on the other side.”
But there was someone approaching the car; a swift, deliberate, poised amble in their direction.
It was he – in a tan trench coat, with rain-dappled broad shoulders, tousled hair, and zealous eyes of Paris green.
Natalie reflexively rocked back on her heels and swallowed thickly. Bellamy.
“Hey, you.”
Zuly’s greeting was open and inadvertent; Bellamy looked at Natalie.
“Hey.”
His voice was soft and restrained. Caring.
Natalie cleared her throat. “Zuly, come on. We’re already ten minutes late.”
The two girls started to walk. Natalie refused to look back.
She felt him anyway.
“I heard your car…having trouble.”
Natalie stopped. She didn’t turn.
“Let me help.”
Zuly leaned in close to her. “It would be a lot quicker, than the ten-minute walk to my car.”
She didn’t think to protest – it didn’t cross her mind.
Strange.
She turned around to him. She was sure he’d stopped breathing in anticipation of her answer. “Fine. Let’s go.”
AND SOMETHING STRANGE HAPPENED ON THE DRIVE OVER. They rode silently in his truck. Bellamy kept his eyes ahead of him. They were vacant, illuminated solely by shameless moonlight. His music – soulful, uncharacteristic, and metropolitan, reeked of nighttime. Unseen visages of dreams, dipped in red wine, sex and starlight.
And she stared at him, audaciously.
She could smell him – freshly laundered clothes and spearmint and something else. Maybe shampoo.
Maybe something different.
But she couldn’t ignore the completely unsolicited, unjustified, unforeseen hum of fruition between her thighs.
She shunned her brain’s own deception of events.
And her heart.
Bellamy pulled in front of the restaurant and she couldn’t get out fast enough. Zuly scrambled in her wake to keep up.
She didn’t even remember thanking him for the ride.
The restaurant was crowded and the smell of sizzling garlic filled her nose.
The mindless chatter of the guests quieted her burdensome thoughts.
She was set free.
She dashed through the restaurant, her Cuban girlfriend in tow, spotting her husband on the other side, at the end of the bar, working on beer number two.
He looked at her, smiled, and slid off of the barstool. She grabbed at him aggressively, nearing his face to hers, kissing him before he had a chance to speak. She tasted Athens, Georgia on his lips, and Jekyll Island, and their very first kiss. She devoured her first feelings of love with him, in its beginnings, as his unwilling moan hummed against her mouth. And in an instant, she was back where she belonged. Brandon Greene was inside of her again.
“Damn, did you miss me?”
She smiled, and pecked his lips once more. “Of course I did. I’ll always miss you.”
He pulled her into him and extended his hand to Zuly. “Nice to see you again.”
“Same to you. Thanks for the invite.”
“Not a problem. Natalie won’t shut up about you, so I figured I needed to get to know you better.”
“Agreed. What beer you drinking?”
“Some shitty west coast ale. Got any suggestions?”
Natalie pursed her lips. “Brandon’s a New Yorker. Give him something stronger.”
“Ah. Got it.” Zuly moved toward the bar, summoning the bartender in Spanish. She returned quickly with two Bucaneros.
She handed one to Brandon. “Try this.”
Brandon placed the bottle to his lips, then smacked them once he’d finished. “Well, shit, Zuly. This is amazing.”
“Best in Cuba.”
They clanked bottles.
Natalie patted her husband on the back. “Shall we get to a table?”
“Not quite. Got a couple more people coming.”
“Who? People from work?”
Brandon rolled his lips in, his eyes widening. “Hmm. Not quite.”
“Natalie. Savannah. Chandler. Greene.”
She recognized the voice. She recognized the lack of shame in yelling across a restaurant. She recognized the jovial tenor in his voice.
Natalie throat swelled as she turned and saw Scotty Kelly standing in clear view, as though months hadn’t passed. Appearing next to him was the very unique, beautiful, well-dressed Asha Castile; of who long work hours, sleepless nights, and ambiguous stress factors did not seem to effect.
Silent and moved to react strongly, Natalie lunged toward them with tear-smeared cheeks and a smile that made her entire body ache with nostalgia. The tears of joy hiccupped through her, rippling past the trauma that the new environment had brought her.
She embraced them as tightly as she could, kissing each of their cheeks with aberrant open emotion.
“Oh, my God,” Asha said, returning the tear-marked sentiment, stop their track along her cheeks. “You look so beautiful.”
“Hot damn it, baby girl,” Scotty said, pressing his lips into her forehead. “Even as a pregnant, married woman, you look as beautiful as the first day Brandon and me laid eyes on you.”
“Watch it, asshole.”
Brandon’s teasingly protective disposition brought back so many memories.
“I don’t understand. Why are you here?”
Asha locked her arm with Natalie’s. “Brandon wanted it to be a surprise. You’ve got us for three whole days.”
“Yea, baby girl. We can do baby shit. Go shopping and shit. Go hiking and shit. Shit people from Oregon do.”
Natalie laughed.
Asha pulled her closer. “And you must introduce me to all of the fine men of Portland. Especially ones with green eyes.”
Her oldest friend was looking at something. Following her gaze’s direction, Natalie spotted Bellamy Lambert, standing a cautious distance, holding Natalie’s black pea coat.
“Hello, everyone. Sorry to interrupt. Nat, you left this in my truck.”
Brandon placed his empty beer bottle down on the bar and walked closer.
Asha, in her beautiful boldness, extended her hand in Young Lambert’s direction.
“Asha Rosalie Castile. New Orleans. Loyal friend of Brandon and Natalie. And you are?”
“Bellamy Lambert,” Natalie interjected. “And he was just leaving.”
“No,” Brandon replied. “Let him stay. I’ll let the hostess know we have one more joining us. Welcome, Bellamy.”
DAMN IT.
Natalie was sitting next to Brandon and his hand was on her thigh. He was claiming her. Silent, tender, protective squeezes. It was the promise of sex later.
She needed to be put in her place.
She appreciated the uncomfortable expression lodged on Bellamy’s face. Served him right for his actions. He pieced over some Cuban bread, stabbing at the diced tomatoes, gazing downward, pensive. She ogled him far longer than she thought appropriate, but no one seemed to notice.
Asha was staring at Bellamy, too. And Scotty was staring at her.
She was on mojito number two, leaning into him brazenly. “So, Bellamy.”
“Yes…Asha…is it?”
“Yes. How are you?”
Bellamy attempted a smile. “I’m fine…and yourself?”
“I’m good. Trying to get over this jetlag. These drinks are helping. Are you originally from Portland?”
Natalie utilized her long, slender legs that had not yet been seized by Harper’s development. “Asha Rosalie.”
She said this through clenched teeth. She knew that her friend had heard, but had chosen to ignore.
Bellamy seemed amused by her bald-faced disposition. Natalie watched transfixed. Brandon leaned into his wife and kissed her ear – she was sure that she felt his tongue.
“No, I was born in Marseille. My family moved to the States when I was very little.”
“So, you speak French?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly Asha flooded the table with her very-Creole French lilt. Bellamy stared at her. Then he stared at Natalie.
She shrugged indifferently. She felt it coming. The onslaught of covetousness was inevitable.
And she wallowed in it piteously.
“You speak French?”
Scotty chuckled haughtily. “She likes to think she does.”
“Scotty’s always been too much of an asshole.”
“I only speak the truth, baby.”
The affectionate proclamation “baby” was tightfisted. Bellamy was wise to take heed.
He seemed unresponsive to life forms outside of himself anyway.
Brandon wrapped his arm around Natalie’s shoulder. “My apologies, Mr. Lambert. This is their customary affection toward each other. It’s been that way for years. Isn’t that right, baby?”
Brandon pressed his lips into her temple. They lingered there for a while. Suddenly, she was afraid to be alone with him. But she needed it. She needed to be fucked back into place.
Natalie nodded anyway. It was best to comply.
Scotty jeered. “This is coming from the same two people we’ve had to put up with for the last ten years. Ash and me could write eight novels on what not to do in a relationship.”
Brandon and Natalie locked eyes.
Asha pursed her lips. “I’m inclined to agree with Scotty on this one. Still love you, though.”
Brandon picked up his bottle of beer. “Ash, I see that you’ve finally chosen a side.”
“Brandon Greene, you chose a side when you put a ring on Nat’s finger.”
“Best decision I’ve ever made.”
The inside of Natalie sank deep – she was sure that Bellamy caught it. And Brandon planted a kiss on her lips. She tasted the fluency in him.