She’s bent over her laptop, a cup of steaming coffee sitting beside it. She’s taken to wearing reading glasses in the past few months, and I think it makes her look as smart as she actually is. I’ve always teased Avril that she resembles pop-princess Taylor Swift and not the chief operations officer of a world-renowned biotech firm, but the glasses definitely give her an appearance that finally matches the size of her brain power.
I tap my knuckles on the doorjamb. She doesn’t even look at me as she says, “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, and she finally raises her head. She hears it in my voice, and it causes the corners of her mouth to turn downward and her eyebrows to draw inward.
“What’s wrong?” she asks with concern.
“Brynne,” I tell her succinctly as I drop down into one of her guest chairs, then prop my sneakered feet on her desk. It’s a move that would cause me to get yelled at by Dane, but Avril doesn’t care. Just as she doesn’t care that I refuse to dress up for work, feeling that my brain works better when I’m comfortable in jeans and tennis shoes.
“What happened?” she asks as she shoves her laptop aside. “I thought all was great last night. She’s great. You’re great. How could you have screwed it up already? I really liked her, Drew.”
I hold a hand up, a slow smile forming on my face. “Chill out, Mrs. Worries-A-Lot. She’s fine and I’m fine, and we’re fine together. Or at least we are right now.”
“But possibly not in the future?” she guesses with a concerned expression.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I’m bothered about something, and I want to run it by you.”
“I don’t think you’re moving too fast,” Avril replies quickly, her expression like that of a mom encouraging her kid on the first day of school not to be scared.
“That’s not it. It’s—”
“And the distance thing shouldn’t be an issue. You’re richer than God. You can work there, or she can come here—”
I want to laugh at my bestest of friends in her zeal to make my love life work, but I sternly cut her off instead. “Will you just be quiet a second, Av, and let me tell you what I’m worried about? Then you can rush in and save the day.”
Her mouth snaps shut and she leans forward, giving me her undivided attention while appearing only slightly chagrined.
I wait a moment, ensuring she’s not going to butt in again, and then take a deep breath.
When I let it out, I begin, “You know that her fiancé, his best friend, and her maid of honor had a threesome right before the wedding, and Brynne found out, right?”
Avril nods, because I’d told her the nitty-gritty details.
“Well,” I say in a hedging tone. “She’s obviously hurt by the betrayal, as you’d expect, but she’s actually more bent out of shape about it being a threesome.”
Because she’s my best friend and she knows me better than anyone other than Dane, I expect her to immediately make the next leap.
“I’m not following,” she replies, her face a mask of befuddlement.
My sigh is full of frustration that I have to spell this out. “It’s distasteful to her, the notion of sex between more than two people. She doesn’t understand how any kind of relationship or even just sexual pleasure can exist between three people. She thinks it’s offensive to the ideal of monogamy.”
“A lot of people feel that way,” Avril replies smoothly.
“Yeah, but I’m not on the verge of falling madly in love with those people,” I retort in exasperation.
“Aaaah,” she says with her eyebrows raised in understanding. “You haven’t told her about your… um… direct experience with the taboo.”
“You don’t have to phrase it in ambiguity,” I growl. “No, she doesn’t know that I’ve been involved in a threesome myself, and that I don’t quite look down on it the way she does. More importantly, she most certainly doesn’t know it was with you and Dane.”
“Well, why does she have to know?” Avril asks.
A question I’ve asked myself a thousand times, yet I can’t quite come up with a satisfactory answer.
“It feels dishonest,” I finally reply. “Because I see a good future with Brynne, it feels like a betrayal for me to keep it from her. And to make things worse, she’s asking questions about you and Dane, about how you two fell in love, and I’ve had to play stupid when the truth of the matter is I was right there sandwiched in between you two while it happened. She’d never understand that.”
“How do you know? Maybe you’re not giving her enough credit.”
“I know,” I snap, pushing up from my chair and scrubbing my hands through my hair in agitation. “I know Brynne well enough to know that if she knew I was fucking you right alongside Dane, she’d bolt. She’s too hurt by that in her own experience to ever understand the beauty we had in our experiences.”
Avril’s eyes fill with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I wave a hand at her distractedly. “It’s not your fault I’m in this mess.”
“No,” she says in an even softer tone that’s truly filled with apology and regret. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into that with Dane and me. It was selfish—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Av,” I growl, and she blinks at me in surprise. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. I wasn’t hurt by it, and I couldn’t be happier for you and Dane. In fact, I’m happier now than I have ever been in my life, and it’s not just because of Brynne, but because my two best friends are now happier than they have ever been in their lives. It’s the most important thing to me, so don’t let me hear you say you’re sorry about it again. Instead, how about giving me some real-world advice?”
She blinks again, then again, processing my rebuke and accepting I’m okay with this. Finally, she clears her throat and offers, “You have two choices. Just rip the Band-Aid off and tell her, then let the chips fall where they may. Or keep it a secret, hoping she never finds out.”
“Well thanks, Sherlock. Would have never figured out that on my own.”
She ignores my sarcasm. “My vote is to not tell her.”
Taken aback, I feel my mouth fall open. “Really?”
“It’s not who you are,” she explains. “It was a part of your past, and it has no current standing on you at all today. It doesn’t define who you are. It doesn’t impact your feelings about Brynne, nor would it ever affect the way you would treat her. It would only serve to make her uncomfortable, and it could potentially mar the start of an incredibly beautiful relationship.”
It makes sense when she says it like that. If I can keep focused on what she just said, I don’t feel as guilty about keeping the truth from Brynne. In fact, it’s almost as if I’m being noble in protecting Brynne from information that would cause her distress.
“Yeah,” I mutter as I start pacing back and forth in front of her desk. She picks up a pen, clicking it open and closed, but doesn’t say anything as I continue to mull over her words. I whirl on her, placing my palms on her desk. “In fact, it’s really not even the same thing at all. What Jesse and Tara did was a betrayal of trust. What you, Dane, and I did was completely consensual and done with care.”
“That’s definitely a way to look at it,” she agrees. “If you’re wanting to make yourself feel good about not telling her the truth.”
My brow furrows. “But you just said I shouldn’t tell her.”
“That’s right,” she agrees. “But I didn’t say that you shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”
“You’re confounding,” I grumble.
“I’m merely pointing out that I’m not sure there is a right answer. Ordinarily, I would always say go with the truth, but in this instance, I do think you should consider keeping it to yourself. At least for now. Maybe later in your relationship, when things are stronger between you two, you can discuss it.”
My breath rushes out in a massive expelling of fatigue over the situation. I plop back in my chair and slump
defeatedly.
“Drew,” Avril begins hesitantly. “I have to ask… this has gotten very serious very fast with Brynne, and I’m not against that at all… but I have to know, are you in any way rebounding?”
“Rebounding?” I ask in confusion. I haven’t had my heart broken by a woman in many years.
“From Dane and me getting married?” Her eyes are slightly veiled, indicating her hesitation in saying that to me.
My response is to laugh until I practically snort. “You’re kidding, right?”
Avril’s lifts her chin, mouth tightening. Her voice is tight and prim. “No, I’m not kidding.”
“For the last time, Av,” I reply, making sure to sound gentle so she doesn’t think I’m making fun of her concern for me. “You falling in love with Dane did not break my heart. I was not in love with you… not in a romantic way. I am not rebounding. I’m happy for the two of you, and I’m happy I found Brynne. Get it into your thick head that what the three of us had was an amazing—if not weirdly unique—sexual relationship that was not destined to last past a few great orgasms. And that’s all it was. We are thankfully still the best of friends, and I’m a better person for it.”
She studies me carefully. “Did you enjoy what we had?”
This was not something I expected, but there’s nothing I can do but answer truthfully. “Of course I did. The sex was amazing. But I stepped away because not only did I see you and Dane falling for each other, but also because I realized sharing a woman is not really my thing.”
“So hypothetically, you wouldn’t ever invite someone else into your bed with Brynne if she was into it?”
“No fucking way,” I say without giving it any thought. Man or woman, there’s only enough room in our bed for the two of us.
Avril beams. “You really mean that.”
“Of course I do. Don’t you feel that way now that you’re married?”
“No,” she answers bluntly. “Dane and I have talked about it. We’d do it again, but not with you.”
I snort. “Damn right. Your days of using my body are over.”
She laughs, and I find myself able to respect Avril and Dane’s relationship. If they can compartmentalize those types of things when it comes to sex, more power to them and I hope they can handle it.
But not me. Not the way I feel about Brynne. I would never let another man or woman touch her.
Ever.
“Do you love Brynne?” she asks bluntly. “You said you were on the verge, but—”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks. I get that it’s been fast, but I feel more for her than I’ve ever felt for another woman, and that includes you, Av. What does that tell you?”
“That you are indeed falling in love with her, and you have every right to be concerned about how our past sexual relationship with Dane could impact your future with her. Keep it to yourself. At least for now.”
There’s no hesitation in Avril’s final declaration. Holding on to that, I vow not to think about it again. At least not for a very long time. “Deal. I’m putting it in the past and keeping it there.”
CHAPTER 14
Brynne
“Casey Ferns is ready in exam room five,” Kittie Mears says as I step out of room two. She hands me a folder containing his records. “Small cavity in tooth twenty.”
Nabbing the small x-ray film paper clipped to the inside of the folder, I raise my arm to hold it up to the light. Not that I don’t trust my tech, but I always confirm myself. I’ll also examine it visually before I determine what to do, but based on what I’m seeing, it’s going to need to be filled.
Clipping the x-ray back, I ask, “Is his father in there with him?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yup.”
“Great,” I mutter, preparing myself as I head to room five with Kittie right behind me. When I enter, Casey’s father has his beefy arms crossed over his chest while he stands ramrod straight. Hair still army-regulation short, the retired colonel scowls in my direction.
His eight-year-old son Casey is already reclined in the exam chair, thinly veiled terror and a horrible attempt to look brave readily apparent.
“Good morning, Casey,” I say brightly.
“Hi,” he mutters, sneaking a peek at his dad.
“Good morning, Mr. Ferns,” I say.
He gives me a curt nod. “Doctor.”
From behind Mr. Ferns, Kittie prepares my instrument tray while shaking her head in frustration. I can definitely relate to her emotion.
Casey is not the first frightened kid we’ve treated, but he is the first I’ve come across who has an overbearing and rigidly set father attend his appointments with him, but not to emotionally support his kid. Nope, he’s here to ensure the boy keeps a stiff upper lip and doesn’t cry so he can learn to “act like a man”.
Moving to the sink, I wash my hands. As I’m drying them, I lean over Casey’s chair with a bright smile. “I see by your chart that you’ve had a birthday since the last time you were here. Was it a good one?”
He smiles tentatively, still burdened by fear, and nods. “My dad and I went to Colorado, and we saw a Rockie’s game.”
“That is so cool,” I exclaim. “Your dad is the bomb.”
Mr. Ferns’ lips curve upward for a flash, rigid face momentarily softening. He’s a good dad, I suppose, but he’s putting too much pressure on his kid right now.
So I make up a little lie. “You know, Mr. Ferns, once children turn eight, our policy is that no parents are allowed in the exam room with them while getting active treatment. We understand the need to give emotional support at younger ages, but now that he’s older, Casey will be in great hands with us.”
Mr. Fern’s arms drop away from his chest, his forehead wrinkling an outward sign of his disgruntlement. “But they let me come back here with him.”
“My mistake,” Kittie chimes in, completely on board with this little white lie. “I didn’t realize Casey had a birthday. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I assure her with a smile, then wink at the little boy. “But Casey here is a big boy whose daddy will be so proud of how brave he’s going to be during his procedure.”
While I know Casey loves his dad and feels some measure of reassurance having a parent here, I also can tell his emotions are all bottled up tight. Keeping them in if he’s scared isn’t always the best thing, and I want him to feel free to express them so he’ll relax—which will never happen in front of his dad.
The little boy sits a little straighter, nodding resolutely at his dad. Mr. Ferns gives him a chin lift in response, confirming he believes Casey is a big boy, too, before telling me, “Okay.”
“Great then.” After flashing him a brilliant smile, I address Kittie. “Please show Mr. Ferns back to the lobby, and get him some coffee or a soda. I’ll give Casey a quick exam while we wait for you to get back.”
“Sure thing, Dr. Adams.” Kittie is out the door in a flash with Mr. Ferns, who is none the wiser that he’s been duped.
When the door shuts, I settle on the side edge of the chair near Casey’s hip. “You scared, buddy?”
He shakes his head, but his eyes say different.
“Well, let me explain how things go in this exam room once you turn eight. There are a few rules I need to lay out.”
Casey’s eyes get even bigger.
“First, you are allowed to ask me any question you want. My wish is for you to fully understand everything I’m going to do to you so you aren’t caught by surprise. The fear of not knowing what’s going to happen can be just the worst, so I don’t want you to hesitate to speak up. Okay?”
He nods, immediately blurting out. “Am I going to get a shot today?”
“You are,” I tell him simply, then tap my finger gently on his mid-lower jaw. “Right about here. But into the gum line. It might feel like a little pinch, and will only last a few seconds. It will make you numb so I can fill your cavity up and make you all better.”
“Will that h
urt?”
“Not in the slightest. I promise.”
He seems unconvinced, so I continue. “Second rule.”
His eyes flare bigger.
A warm smile stretches my mouth. “There is nothing wrong with being afraid in this room, and there’s nothing wrong with showing it. If you cry, it won’t bother me at all. Now, I think you’ll find it’s not as bad as you might have built up in your mind, but regardless… if you want to cry, you go for it, okay?”
He nods again, a slight tremble to his bottom lip touching my heart.
I take his hand in mine. “And third rule… what happens in here stays in here. We have what’s called doctor/patient confidentiality, so if you cry in here, I can’t tell your dad. What you do and what we talk about is completely private and just between us, okay?”
The relief in his eyes is evident, but to my joy, his voice is stronger. “Okay. That sounds good to me.”
Kittie returns, and she entertains Casey with a variety of corny jokes. He asks me questions about the procedure, and I take my time explaining. Casey squeezes Kittie’s hand when I administer the shot, but he’s a trooper the entire time. After the procedure is done, he gives me a hug.
He didn’t cry once, but not because he didn’t want to let his dad down, but because he knew exactly what to expect and had the freedom to express his feelings.
After he leaves, I sit down at the desk to type up my notes while Kittie cleans up.
“You have the most amazing touch with kids,” she says off-handedly. “Why didn’t you concentrate in pediatrics?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t think we could build up a niche business like that when we started. And now… well, it’s kind of moot.”
Kittie, as well as all the other employees, are well aware of what’s going on between Jesse and me. As far as I can tell, they don’t all know the dirty details—just that our wedding was called off and my plans are to leave the practice.
“Well, if you start your own clinic, regardless if you do pediatrics or not, I’d like you to consider taking me with you.”
Wicked Wedding Page 10