by Marni Mann
It doesn’t matter.
Maybe it’s time to give up.
I shower as fast as I can, avoiding Cannon and throwing everything into my suitcases without organizing a single thing. Like the rest of my life, I’ll deal with it when I get back home.
“Piper?” he says as he rolls the luggage to the door.
“We need to leave,” is all I say as he reaches for my hand and links his fingers with mine.
“Look at me, Piper.”
I can’t. If I do, I’ll cry.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” he says.
His sunglasses are in place, and I hate that I can’t see his eyes to tell if he’s even looking at me.
Barely above a whisper, I respond as honestly as I can in the moment, “I guess I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Pipes.”
This time, I’m the one shaking my head in disbelief. Because, if I didn’t do anything wrong, how are things so messed up?
“Yet I’m scouring a forum and a swinger site for answers while you’re doing God knows what. You’ve been so distant and different, Cannon. Cold even. You almost sent a message to that couple, telling them we were ready to meet up.”
“I was pissed, Piper. When I typed that message, I wasn’t thinking clearly. It was early, and I couldn’t sleep. You were mad at me. It all snowballed.”
I drop his hand and wrap my arms around my middle. “How did we get here?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
But he does know. He’s the only one who has any answers that can help us. Until he’s ready to say those out loud, we’re going to continue spinning our wheels and sinking further into the mud.
“Was that message you almost sent your answer? You want her?”
Now is his chance to tell me the truth. Yet I know he won’t.
“It wasn’t about her, Piper. It was about giving you what you wanted,” he corrects. “From the messages you exchanged, she already seemed to know a little bit about you from the forums. You’re the one who found the site, not me.”
She knew so much because I used the same screen name on the forum as I did on the website, not thinking I’d actually use the profile on the swinger site. It was only there, so I could look around—not because I wanted to find a couple to play with, but to help me gather information. But, now, my mistake has caused an even bigger problem.
“I sent her a picture of us. She asked. I felt like I had to because I’ve seen them. You saw the comments; she wants you. Maybe you want her, too, now that you’ve seen her.”
“Tell me you don’t want him,” he says. “You’ve been all over their profile. Unless you’re suddenly into chicks, it has to be because of him.”
I could lie all I wanted, but the proof is in the numbers. There’s no denying the fact that I have been drawn to this couple—the sexy, bearded man next to the beautiful blonde—from day one.
“It doesn’t matter, Cannon. Not unless you want to actually swing. Do you?”
He runs his fingers through his hair and adjusts his sunglasses. I wish he’d take them off, but I know it’s easier for him to have this conversation with them on.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“No, I’m asking you an honest question, Cannon. Because, if you think swinging is the answer to our problems, I want to know.”
“Babe, it’s sex. Any guy would find that appealing, no matter who they were. What about you? Same question.”
My face heats at the thought of sleeping with another man with my husband in the same room. I don’t think I could do that. Everything about it sounds awkward and like a recipe for disaster. But then my mind shifts back to the forum. I could be saying no to the best thing to ever happen to us. The thing that could put us back together and make us whole.
“Maybe,” I whisper. “I don’t completely understand it yet.”
He nods and seems to accept that piece of my answer. “Tell me why you’d consider it.”
“It doesn’t matter why, Cannon. Not if I don’t see it happening. We’re going to miss our flight over this stupid conversation.”
“Is it stupid?” he asks. “You’ve spent a lot of time checking out those forums, Piper. A part of you thought this would work for us, or you wouldn’t have wasted your time.”
I hate how well he knows me. We might not have been talking much lately, but he knows how I operate.
So, I tell him, “I read some information when I had too much time on my hands and an entire internet at my fingertips. The forum was about swinging and how it changed this woman’s life. It made her boring, monotonous routine interesting. It brought the heat back into her marriage. Suddenly, what was strained and on the verge of falling apart became captivating. And that’s what got my attention. The chance for our marriage to take a turn for the better. To change. To grow. That’s what I wanted.”
“You don’t think it’s wrong?” he questions. “Sleeping with someone you’re not married to?”
“Yes, and no. It’s obviously not normal for husbands and wives to sleep with other people, but is it wrong if it works?”
“I don’t know, Pipes. I can’t answer that.”
“Then, I guess it’s only wrong if we make it feel that way. Because it can’t be wrong if we’re both consenting and on the same page.”
A couple of people walk down the hallway, and I realize Cannon has our door propped open with one of the suitcases. If anyone were to hear this conversation, I’d die.
“I feel like we’ve just agreed to try this,” he says as he closes the distance between us. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have sex with my wife.”
I wrap my arms around Cannon’s shoulders and lean my cheek against his chest. “Do you still love me, Cannon?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation.
“Then, I’ll try anything. I want my husband. But I think we need help. We need to try to change.”
He squeezes me tightly around my waist and rubs his hands up and down my back. “I’ll give you whatever you need, Piper. As long as you promise me that everything will work out how it’s supposed to.”
I wish I could make that promise and keep it, but the only way to know that is to live and learn. “You saw what that woman wrote. She said swinging was the best thing to ever happen to her marriage. They’d struggled, too. I want to come out of this stronger than ever.”
“And what happens if we don’t do this?”
“Then, it’s over with. I’ll close the profile and leave the forum and website. We’ll figure out another way.”
He pauses, then starts to say something, and then stops. I panic because the only other option is therapy, and he didn’t respond to that the other night when I asked him if that was what he wanted to do. The thought of divorce cracks my chest wide open. Every ounce of need, want, and desire drains onto the carpet beneath my feet as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
Kissing away my tears, Cannon holds my face and brings his lips to mine. “I’ll do better, Piper. Give me a chance to fix this before we make any decisions one way or another.”
That’s all I’ve wanted—for him to try to change. To acknowledge that there’s a problem and to help me make it better. But I’m not stupid. While this simple request sounds great coming from him, I’m not sure Cannon even realizes all that needs fixing.
I’ll give him some time though because it’s all we really have left.
West
I’ve started a routine. It’s nothing like the daily shit I had to do during hockey season. Not even close. That’s because there aren’t any trainers telling me how many pounds I have to bench or any coaches yelling at me to pick up my pace on the ice. My agent isn’t nagging me about negotiating an endorsement contract or when I have to be at a photo shoot or what restaurants are paying me to show up and eat or what kind of car I have to be seen driving. This new routine begins when the sun peeks through the windows
of our bedroom. I lace up my sneakers, throw on a pair of shorts, and hit the beach for a run.
Tilly always talked about the weather in Florida and how much she missed it. Now, I know why. It’s the middle of winter, and it’s so warm, I don’t even need a shirt. I let the morning sun beat down on my New England skin, that has a pretty decent tan already.
There typically aren’t many people out on the beach this early. I only pass a few, all of them doing the same thing I am, each of them men, except for one. About a quarter of a mile from my place is where she crosses my path. She stays on the wet sand, like me, and I move a little to the right to give her enough room to get by. We never speak. I just give her a nod, and she comes back with a brief smile that grows each time I see her.
The colors of her outfit change every day, but all she ever wears is a sports bra that holds in her decent-sized tits and a tiny pair of spandex shorts that show her heart-shaped ass. She doesn’t have the body of a runner. She isn’t too thin, too tall, or too muscular. She’s at a height that puts her at about my chest. Her tits bounce, which tell me they’re real. And she has a body that has nice curves and meat.
As I pass her now, it’s the largest grin she’s ever given me. But that’s all I can see because the rest of her face is mostly hidden by her hat and sunglasses. Still, there’s something so familiar about her. Maybe her lips or smile look like someone else’s I know. Maybe it’s all in my head. But that lift of her mouth, those perfect teeth, the long strides I take to reach her are things I look forward to every morning as I get dressed. And, once I pass her, a huge letdown follows because I know it’ll be another day before I see her again.
All of that from just a set of lips and a killer fucking body.
Jesus, my life has changed.
Two miles down is Tilly’s family’s water sports business. Her parents opened it long before they even had her, and now, it’s the biggest in Destin.
I normally keep on running at least a mile past their business and then head for home, but her dad is standing near the water, waving me down, so I stop right beside him.
“Tilly told me what time you leave, so I got here extra early today, hoping I’d catch you,” he says, extending his hand for me to shake.
During my run back, a few of his guys are usually loading all the equipment onto the beach—the kayaks, Jet Skis, paddleboards, rafts, umbrellas, and whatever other shit these beach people like to use.
I pull my hand back and stretch out my shoulders. “I like to get it done before the beach gets crowded.”
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
He knows I have nowhere to be. At the last dinner we went to, Tilly told her parents that I’d been enjoying my time off. That isn’t something I even mentioned to her, but it sounded good, and it caused them to nod and smile.
“Sure. Do you need help setting up the equipment?”
“No, I’ve got plenty of staff for that. I was wondering if we could talk business.”
“Business?”
His head turns toward the water, which he stares at for several seconds before slowly gazing back at me. “I’d like you to buy me out.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s not what I expected, and I don’t think he’s being serious at all. But, when he stays silent, his eyes hard, his stare unwavering, I know he’s not joking.
This business is his whole life. It’s the second child they weren’t able to have.
And, now, they want to sell it?
To me?
“Why?” I ask.
“Damn it, West. It’s been a good run but a long one. I’m tired. And I’m ready to do all the things the wife and I have always talked about but never had the time because we’re always here.”
I want to get tired.
I want to watch my jersey be raised to the ceiling of the TD Garden where it’d hang forever.
I want the choice.
“I get it,” I tell him.
“I had a feeling you would.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’d like to keep the business in the family. Her mother and I have put a lot of sweat and tears into that place. It would be a shame for someone else to get their hands on it. Now that you’re living here, the timing couldn’t be more perfect.”
He thinks my next dream is renting Jet Skis to vacationers?
I’m not sure what the hell to say.
“I know you’re a businessman, like myself,” he says, not even giving me a chance to respond. “So, before you ask, I’m not looking to get rich off the sale. We’ve made good money, and I’m not a greedy man. I just want to get what’s fair market value, so the wife and I won’t need for anything, if you know what I mean.”
I’m not sure I do.
“Have you talked to Tilly about this?”
He shakes his head. “I wanted to speak to you first, seeing as you’d be the one paying for it.”
If Tilly married someone who couldn’t afford a cash buyout, I wonder if this conversation would be going a little differently.
“I’ll talk to Tilly,” I say. “If she’s interested, we’ll go from there.”
“I appreciate it, West. And it’ll be a fair price; don’t you worry.”
I’m not worried.
Nor am I interested.
Tilly quit her job a few months after we started dating and hasn’t worked a day since. At this point, I can’t picture her standing at the tiki hut, renting out Jet Skis for the day. But, if that’s what she wants, she can have it.
“I’ll get back to you,” I tell him, taking a few steps away.
“We’ll be grilling some steaks Saturday night if you’d both like to join us. Not sure if my wife has mentioned that to Tilly yet or not.”
For the last week, Tilly’s been reminding me every day what she wants to have happen on Saturday night. It’s not dinner with her family. It’s when she hopes I’ll be fucking another woman in front of her.
“Can’t. We have other plans,” I say over my shoulder as I begin to jog. “Maybe next time.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you about the other thing.”
I throw my hand up and continue on, anticipating at least another two miles before I turn around and go home. There’s no rush to get back there. All that’s waiting for me is some breakfast, and then I’ll leave again for the gym. When I return, I’ll hit up the beach and go for a swim, and after a long shower, Tilly and I will go to dinner.
Anything to avoid the scores and the news updates.
Some fucking routine I have.
During every moment of it, I ask myself, What’s next?
Nothing comes to me. No ideas. No business ventures. No places I want to visit.
No next dreams.
Surely, not a water sports company on the beach.
Just hockey.
That’s always the answer.
Piper
Five days. That’s how long it’s been since our talk in Belize. We’ve spent cozy nights on the couch, gone out to dinner, and even talked a little bit more than usual. It doesn’t matter. Life in Florida is still strained. And, now, there’s brand-new tension that didn’t exist until Cannon saw that website and the messages in my inbox.
It’s my fault. I didn’t think. I just started talking, and I dug myself a hole so deep that there isn’t a ladder long enough to get me out.
Cannon doesn’t know what to do. I’ve caught him watching me from across the room, like he’s trying to decide how to put us back together. Sometimes, I feel like he’ll never figure it out. And, other times, I wonder how much he’s thinking about swinging and what he passed up when he didn’t jump at the chance.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about the other couple. Though I haven’t been online, the forum and the website are still at the forefront of my mind. After all the reading I did, I was almost convinced that swinging could fill the gaps in our marriage. That it would be the glue to put us back together. But, now, I’m not so sure. After seeing Cannon’s reaction, there’
s no doubt that being with another man and woman could tear our marriage apart. And why wouldn’t it? Swinging goes against everything monogamy encompasses.
I can’t take that risk. Even though what we have isn’t at its best, it still means more to me than the nagging voice in the back of my mind. The voice that’s been leading me down a very dangerous path.
Cannon’s still asleep. He stayed up most of the night, fiddling around on his laptop. I have no idea what he was working on, a case probably, but I didn’t bother to ask. But watching him sleep makes me crave the contact of being close, so I crawl back into bed, lying on top of the blanket next to him.
I miss the life we used to have. When things were fresh and new and our marriage was a priority. Work was forgotten once the clock struck five. Every second after, I was Cannon’s sole focus, and he was mine. Not a night went by without him inside me—cherishing me, loving me, grounding me.
I run a fingertip down his cheek and all the way to his chin. His tan skin is so soft and warm. It’s been too long since I’ve appreciated this man.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I do love you.”
He stirs and opens one eye. “What’s wrong, Pipes?” His voice is gruff, deepened from sleep, and so sexy.
A familiar tingle tickles my belly button and dances all the way to my clit. I’m supposed to be apologizing for upsetting him with the messages, but all I want is for my husband to touch me, to tell me we’re going to be okay and that he’s got it all figured out.
He lifts the blanket covering him and pulls it back. “Get under here,” he says.
I do as I was told and cuddle beneath the blankets until my cheek is pressed against Cannon’s chest. He wraps his arm around my back and pulls me so close that I sling my leg over his hip.
He doesn’t touch me anywhere else, and I’m too afraid to ask him to. I don’t want to ruin this, so I’m content with being in his arms, thankful for this moment.
We’re as close as two people can get, yet the silence adds so much distance. When I can’t take it anymore, I kiss his chest and lift my head far enough to see his face. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is even. I think he’s asleep until a pained expression narrows his brows.