Lover

by Marni Mann

  I try to move the blanket away from her face, but she wiggles away from me, sliding toward the middle of the bed.

  “Please just go,” she begs. “I can’t do this with you right now.”

  I stand and walk to the doorway of her room, turning to take another glance at her. “If you need anything, I can be here in minutes.”

  “I won’t.” She holds the wine to her mouth and chugs more.

  Fuck, I know that kind of pain. I know how it can eat at you.

  I know how it changes your whole world.

  “Piper, there’s something I want to tell you.” It’s been a while since I thought about that moment in the hospital. I hate the way reliving it makes me feel, and I know that’s coming through my voice. “Tilly and I lost a baby. She was in her second trimester and miscarried. He—my son, Asher—was the reason we had gotten married. We had his room decorated, clothes in his closet, his goddamn name painted on the wall. And then he was just gone. It was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through. I wanted to know what I had done wrong, what I could have done differently to save him. I blamed myself, even after everyone said I shouldn’t. But, at the time, I couldn’t see past the pain. I just hurt like hell, and that was all I could focus on.”

  I close my eyes for just a second, wiping away the picture of his nursery. It’s that image I always go back to. The place where I’d have brought him as soon as we got him home. Where I’d have put him to bed, where I’d have told him about my day on the ice.

  “I’m telling you this because I know what it feels like to be blindsided. What happened isn’t your fault, like losing my child wasn’t mine. This isn’t going to be the last thing in your life that causes you pain.”

  We both know that isn’t the last thing that hurt me. I’m still trying to heal from the latest hit I’ve taken.

  “I’m not going to tell you it gets easier because that won’t help you at all. But I’ll say that, eventually, you’ll stop blaming yourself and stop questioning what you could have done differently. Swinging isn’t what caused this, and we both know that.”

  She doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me with wide eyes that are overflowing with emotion.

  “I’ll check on you in the morning,” I say. Then, I close the door behind me. I go out through the back of her house and walk along the sand until I reach mine.

  Tilly’s in the kitchen, sitting at the table, nursing her own bottle of wine.

  “Is he gone?”

  She twists the glass in circles, the wine sloshing onto the sides. “Yep. Got himself a hotel room, I think.”

  I sit across from her, grabbing the glass from her hand and downing it. “Tonight was fucked.”

  When our eyes connect, hers are filled with as much emotion as Piper’s. But Tilly’s aren’t dripping with tears. They’re raging with anger.

  “She freaked out over nothing,” she snaps. “And you, Prince Charming, went to her rescue. What kind of shit is that? I don’t get it. She saw a little pegging. Big fucking deal.”

  “It is a big fucking deal, Tilly.”

  “Enough that you had to walk her home? Tuck her in? Wipe away her tears? Because I know you did all three, and it makes me kinda sick to think about it.”

  She’s been dancing around something since we got back from dinner. I have no patience for it. Not after tonight.

  “Say it.”

  “I just find it amusing that you’re so concerned about her. She’s someone you fuck, West. She’s not your wife. Yet, when she was arguing with her husband on the beach, you inserted yourself into their fight. You’re the one who took her home, and you’re the one who comforted her. Why?”

  “I’m not a dick, Tilly. The girl was fucking traumatized. Any guy would have done the same thing if put in that situation. Shit, it’s not like I just met her tonight. We’ve been swinging with them since we moved to Florida.”

  She lifts the bottle that sits between us on the table and refills her glass, swallowing half and handing me what’s left. “There has to be something wrong with her. Or maybe she’s just in denial. But I knew he was bi from the second I got him naked.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with her.”

  Her lip curls, like I told her the plastic surgeon had fucked up her tits. “Why are you sticking up for her?”

  “Why? Because you’re blaming her for no reason.” And because I care about Piper. It kills me that my wife finds this so amusing, as though every guy should just take it up the ass and every woman should be okay with it. “This is on him for lying to her. Piper didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You don’t know what happens at their house, what conversations they’ve had. Maybe she’s a judgmental bitch who can’t handle the truth, and he didn’t want to listen to her degrade him.”

  She doesn’t know Piper at all.

  She works with fucking kids who are autistic. She’s a healer, a nurturer. And, when she found out who I was, she didn’t even confront me about it. She doesn’t have a judgmental bone in her body.

  “You know what shocks me?” she continues, not giving me a chance to respond. “That not once did you ask me if I was all right. Not once did you look back on the beach and ask me if I was okay with you taking her home. You still haven’t asked how I’m doing. From the second you got here, it’s been all about her.”

  That’s the reason for the anger in her eyes. It has nothing to do with what happened tonight. It has everything to do with the way I handled it.

  “It has been all about her,” I agree. “You’re right.” I push the chair back and get up from the table. “But there’s no reason to talk about either of them anymore. It’s over now, and we won’t be swinging with them again.”

  “So, should I look for a new couple?”

  She’s fucking relentless. Unfazed by any of this. Her pussy is the only thing she thinks about.

  And I’m over her cunt.

  “No,” I say, moving away from the table. “I’m good.”

  “She deserved it,” I hear her mumble under her breath.

  I’m almost to my office, and I turn around. “What did you say?”

  She glares at me. “She deserved it.”

  It.

  That word could mean so many things.

  I still don’t know why Tilly was showered this morning when I found her in bed. If she had met Cannon or someone else.

  The truth is, I don’t fucking care.

  My wife has some kind of beef with Piper, and I’m sure the reason is because she sees the way Piper affects me. But Tilly’s trying to goad me, and I’m not taking the bait.

  When she doesn’t get an answer, she stands and goes downstairs.

  I go into our bedroom, strip off my clothes, and get into bed. I stare at the phone in my hand and type out a text to Piper. But after reading the message—You’re going to be okay—I delete it and put my cell on the nightstand.

  Piper’s hurting so badly, and that text wouldn’t have made her feel better. She probably wouldn’t have even looked at it.

  And things with Tilly need to come to a head because neither of us can keep living this way.

  There are too many goddamn lies.

  And they’re only getting worse.

  Piper

  As soon as the door closes behind West, I cry. I cry for Cannon and his lies and for West and his little boy that never got to meet his daddy. Asher would have had a great life, probably playing hockey as soon as he was able to stand on his own two feet.

  I should have hugged West. Should have told him I was sorry and that he wasn’t alone anymore.

  I need space, but I’m not going anywhere. If he still wants me, I’ll be here. I’ll never stop wanting to see his smile or feel his touch.

  But that doesn’t matter right now. Tonight, I have my own problem to worry about. And he’s currently standing out front, blowing up my phone, because his keys are still sitting on the counter in the kitchen, and I already used the spare hidden outside to get in.


  Cannon: Let me in, Piper.

  Piper: Give me tonight, Cannon. Please. I need time to think.

  Following my last text, my cell rings, and I’m dumb enough to answer. “What?” I whisper.

  “Baby, please let me inside. I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m not alone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It’s a lie, but I don’t care. Maybe that’s what I need—to hurt him like he hurt me tonight.

  But that only makes him pound on the door harder. “I swear to God, if he touches you, Piper.”

  “You’ll do what? Go fuck your boyfriend? I don’t care what you do, Cannon.”

  His growl is torturous, and I can tell he wants to get his hands on me. He’d never hurt me, but he wants to shake some sense into all the responses I gave him. Anything to make what he’s been doing seem less like cheating even though that’s exactly what we’ve been doing to each other.

  I have West.

  He has Tilly and another man.

  A man.

  “Just leave,” I tell him. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  I know he’s not going to leave though, so I climb out of bed and tiptoe down the hallway. When I glance around the corner of the foyer, I see his palm pressed against the glass. If I get any closer, he’ll see me, and I don’t want to cave to his pleading. He needs to stay somewhere else, just like I need to crawl back into bed and think about what I’m going to do with this sham of a marriage.

  “Pipes, I love you,” he says. “I love you so much.”

  “Did you love me when you were with him? Did you think about me at all, Cannon?”

  “You know I did. You’re always my first choice. Always.”

  “If you loved me as much as you say you do, you wouldn’t have needed choices. There wouldn’t have been a backup plan or a fallback guy. I’d have been enough. But I’m not.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he pleads. “You’re taking everything out of context. And you’re the one who discovered swinging, Piper. So, what’s that say about me? I’m not enough for you either.”

  “At least you could have admitted it,” I tell him.

  “I’m not denying who I am. Not anymore. But I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. I need to be with you, and you’ll see the truth, Piper. You’ll feel it.”

  “I feel my heart breaking. And I see you for the liar you are. What else is there?”

  It’s not a question I want an answer to, so I disconnect the call and end up in the kitchen where I throw my phone on the counter. After I grab a chair from the table, I slide it over and stand on it, so I can reach the top of the liquor cabinet. I usually don’t venture past wine, but tonight, I need something stronger. Something that will knock the pain from my heart and keep my mind from replaying what I saw over and over.

  Cannon tries to call back one more time, and then he walks away from the house without another word. I don’t know when I’ll see him again or if he’ll be back sooner rather than later. For all I know, I’ve driven him to the one place I don’t want him to go—another guy’s bed. But, if that’s what he needs, he’ll go anyway. Nothing I say or do will keep Cannon from being with him.

  That thought makes me take two shots, back-to-back, not bothering to chase the vodka with anything else. Considering I didn’t eat much today, the burn travels all the way to my stomach, and the rest goes straight to my head.

  I hold on to the wall until I’m back in bed with both the wine and the vodka.

  Another half hour passes, and I can barely feel my face. The show on the TV screen is blurry, a lot like the inside of my mind.

  I’m drunk, and all I want is West. I want him to strip off his clothes and climb into my bed because I’m tired of being the good girl and doing the right thing. Nobody else cares about my feelings, so why should I care about theirs?

  Tilly didn’t stop and consider how I’d feel about her using a strap-on with Cannon. She just did it anyway. Cannon took what she was giving him, not caring about my reaction or if I’d find out from Tilly. And she easily could have outed him at any moment because, unlike me, she knew about his tastes.

  That’s why I have zero consideration for her feelings tonight. I grab my phone and type out a message to West. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I’m done sitting back and waiting for my life to work itself out.

  Piper: I need you.

  I worry I’ve waited too long and that he’s asleep. But West responds in less than a minute.

  West: Is Cannon there?

  Piper: He was. I didn’t let him in.

  West: Fuck. I shouldn’t have left you alone.

  Piper: Then, don’t.

  I bite my lip, smiling at how easily that came out. No debate. No back and forth about whether to send it.

  West: You want me to come back?

  Piper: I want you to make me come.

  West: Shit, Piper. Hang on.

  I didn’t think about the kind of trouble this would create for him. It’s late; there’s no way he can sneak out of his own house to come to mine. If Tilly catches him, she’ll know exactly whose bed he’s running to.

  But I want him to break the rules for me. I want him to throw on some clothes, grab his keys, and walk down the beach to my house.

  West: Are you sure?

  I get out of the text message and start taking my clothes off, starting with my shirt. Even though my eyes are glassy and a little red, I grab a handful of my breast and lick my lips for the camera. And then I send the picture of me half-naked to West. If that’s not enough of an invitation, I don’t know what is.

  Piper: Please.

  West: Meet me on the beach in front of your house in five minutes.

  Smiling, I set my phone down and strip out of the rest of my clothing. If he wants me, he’ll get all of me. And then I brush my teeth and hair, and after those painfully long five minutes pass, I open the sliding glass door and walk to the end of the patio, completely naked.

  My feet sink into the cold sand, and goose bumps cover my body, making my nipples as hard as glass. The butterflies in my stomach unleash when I spot West jogging down the beach. He can’t see me yet.

  My phone vibrates, and I glance at the screen. It’s almost as blurry as the TV was.

  West: Come outside.

  Piper: I’m right here.

  West looks up from his phone and stops moving. And then, slowly, he starts walking toward me again. “Baby, what are you doing, standing outside, naked?”

  “Waiting for you,” I tell him as he places his hands on my hips and looks everywhere but my eyes.

  It’s the reaction I was hoping for, especially when I slide my hand over the bulge in his athletic shorts and feel how hard he is for me.

  “How much have you had to drink?” he asks as he picks me up.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. “Enough to know I want to fuck you.”

  “Judging by that response, a lot,” he says with half a laugh. “Let’s go inside and get you warmed up.”

  “I’m not cold.”

  “You’re drunk. You probably don’t feel much of anything, but your skin is freezing.”

  “I thought you’d like me naked. Our clothes never stay on long.”

  “I love you naked, Piper. You can get naked anytime you want.” He walks us to the master bedroom, a place he’s never been allowed before tonight, and sets me on the bed.

  “Does that mean, you’re not done with me? I’ll see you again?”

  “We can’t swing anymore,” he says. “Tonight changed everything. You know that, right?”

  Looking away from him, I let the truth absorb into the few brain cells that aren’t sloshed. I knew we couldn’t keep the same arrangement. That, once I saw Tilly fucking my husband like that, it was over. I just didn’t want to accept that I’d never get to spend another night alone with West. Because, if I’m being honest, that hurts more than the thought of never sleeping with my ow
n husband again.

  “Hey,” he says as he sits down next to me. “That doesn’t mean we’re done. I can’t quit you, Piper. I’m not ready.”

  “But you will. Someday.” And that day will hurt. It’ll destroy me. “I need another drink.”

  He takes the vodka bottle away from me and shakes his head. “You’ve had enough. And you’re not hearing me. Or maybe I’m not being clear.”

  “Then, tell me again,” I whisper. “Make me understand, West.”

  West strips out of his clothes and climbs under the covers with me. And then he pulls me against his chest and kisses the top of my head. “Things are a mess right now. I think we can both agree on that. But we’ll figure this out. I’m not walking away.”

  I turn in his arms and kiss right over the top of his heart. “Fuck me until it all makes sense.”

  “I’ll fuck you tomorrow, Piper. Tonight, I’m just going to hold you until you fall asleep.”

  West

  Piper has been asleep for hours, but I haven’t so much as even closed my eyes. I don’t know if Cannon will be busting through the door at any second, trying to start shit with her. If that happens, my ass needs to be awake.

  Regardless, I’m not even close to being tired. My mind is too full.

  Things with Tilly are a fucking mess, and there has to be a resolution soon because we can’t keep going on this way. The commentating gigs are weighing on me. And I know, no matter how goddamn hard I try, I can’t walk away from Piper.

  Since she fell asleep, my brain has skated circles around all the possibilities of where my life is headed—the scenarios that could play out over the next few weeks and the different outcomes. Staying here isn’t helping me come up with any answers. I need to get home before Tilly wakes up and realizes I’m not there.

  I slide away from Piper’s body and throw my T-shirt over my head. I lace up my sneakers and kiss her cheek. “I’ll text you later,” I whisper.

  She doesn’t even stir. She drank enough last night to keep her passed out for a while.

  It isn’t even six in the morning yet as I start my way across the beach toward my house.

  I promised Tilly I’d call my attorney today. I intend to have that checked off before she has the chance to ask me again. Since Lloyd is used to my hockey schedule, he won’t at all be surprised that I’m phoning this early. I hit his number in my Contacts and wait for him to pick up.