Stitches_A Ménage Romance [MFM]

by Sam Mariano

  Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “I know that, but it was my little secret.”

  “I’m in on it now,” I inform her.

  She grins. “That’s okay. You and Sebastian are allowed to know every inch of me, just no one else.”

  It’s strange, hearing Moira describe a self-imposed prison of her own. Hers was nothing like ours, but it was a prison all the same. I’ve been there; I recognize her description of the invisible bars. “Did you have many friends?”

  Shrugging like it’s insignificant, she says, “Not many. When I was young, I kept to myself. When I got older, the girls didn’t like me. The guys did. That made the girls like me even less.”

  I nod my understanding. “It usually does.”

  “I always had Gwen,” she offers. “Gwen didn’t fit in either, but as you may have noticed, she’s much more take-charge. Much more assertive. She was the lion and I was the lamb. I liked my peace and quiet. I avoided what I hated and surrounded myself with what I loved. Gwen fought tooth and nail and wore herself out. Our teen years were really hard for her. Lots of fighting, lots of tears. I tried to convince her of the virtues of pretending to roll over and play dead, but she didn’t have it in her.”

  Since she’s been dancing around it, I ask, “What were your parents like?”

  It takes her a minute to come up with an apt response. “Comfortable, I guess. Not for me, but with themselves, even when maybe they shouldn’t have been. You know how you said people who don’t struggle don’t have to experience growth? They just rest on their laurels? Well, my parents did have struggles, but they still never grew. They blamed everyone for everything instead of facing their own faults. I think you missed a crucial part. The struggle isn’t enough to change people. If there’s going to be any profound change, you have to accept responsibility. Otherwise you can fuck up your whole life and never learn a damn thing.” She meets my gaze plainly. “That’s what my parents were like.”

  Her words are so much softer than my worldview, than Seb’s, but in a lot of ways, we believe the same things. It’s strange how we traveled such different paths and wound up in the same place.

  “Is that what drew you to Seb?”

  She cocks an eyebrow, not quite understanding.

  “I’ve never met a more accountable man,” I state. “I’ve strived to be like that since I met him. I guess he shaped me a bit, in that way.”

  Running her finger over my thumb, she says, “I think if we’re doing life right, we learn something from everyone who is important to us.”

  It was partially trying to be accountable that landed me in the hot water I’m currently in, actually. I haven’t really talked to her about the problems popping up with my divorce, and I figure this isn’t the right time.

  Luckily, she answers the question I asked a moment ago and saves me from considering it further. “I don’t think any one thing drew me to Sebastian, though. It was everything. His whole package. After spending my childhood fending for myself emotionally, I met this incredible, dominant man who gently wrested control from me and kept it in his pocket. He led me around like he already knew exactly where I wanted to go. It was a relief. He took so much pressure off me. He gave me the break I didn’t even know I needed. I’m human, I didn’t always make the best decisions, but he did. It was the strangest thing. He always makes the right call. I’ve never met someone and trusted them so quickly, but he was so capable, how could I not? It was like the entire world was his own personal yo-yo, and he wanted me.”

  The look on her face now is exactly why I call them newlyweds, even after years together. She’s still so impressed by that lucky bastard; she gets hearts in her eyes just talking about him. I get it. He struck me as someone to watch as soon as we met, and he was little more than a kid, then. Now he’s a man full-grown, and I can see why he impresses the hell out of his wife.

  Moira goes on. “As for what first drew me to you…”

  “Seb,” I answer, since that’s easy to guess.

  But she shakes her head. “No, that wasn’t it. That came after. First it was your strength. I could feel it. It rolls off of you in waves, the same way Sebastian’s dominance rolls off him. You have the look and feel of a man who could walk through a natural disaster carrying a person over each shoulder and never miss a step. He controls everything, but you… you don’t have to. You can survive anything. You’re smart and strong and capable in your own right, but more than that, you’re loyal. You could take on the world by yourself, but you choose to stick by Sebastian. You take care of your own. You love each other. You take care of one another. I love that.” Her smile warms and she squeezes my hand. “I love you. I love you both. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

  A little smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Seb says that all the time, that he’s the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “He is,” she says, her tone teasing. “He has us, doesn’t he? Now we’re the luckiest threesome in the world.”

  19

  Moira

  Griff is supposed to stay with me until afternoon, but he gets called away to work and ends up leaving early. He promises he’ll make it up to me later. I walk him out to the garage, give him a kiss, and shut the garage door once he leaves.

  We really need to get an extra garage door opener for him.

  Griff helped me clean up after breakfast, so I have the afternoon free. Sebastian won’t be home until dinner time, so I figure I’ll do some yoga. I didn’t go for my run this morning; snuggling in bed was more enjoyable. Good thing extra sex burns a few calories, because I’ve been majorly slacking since Griff joined our relationship.

  Once I get into my workout clothes and braid my hair, I decide I may as well do a little extra work while I’m there. I grab my five-pound weights so I can warm up and do a little arm work before I start my yoga routine.

  Only, the doorbell rings before I make it to my mat.

  I wasn’t expecting Gwen today. I almost think maybe Griff left something, but Sebastian gave him a key and he knows the alarm code. He wouldn’t ring the doorbell.

  Glancing down at myself, I verify I am not fit for company. I’m wearing a stylish sports bra and thin athletic pants.

  The doorbell rings again.

  That’s rather aggressive.

  Unease crawls down my spine as I grab a sweater and head for the door. I tell myself there’s no reason to feel this way—it’s probably a delivery. Sebastian probably ordered something and forgot to tell me.

  I unlock the door and pull it open. My heart promptly drops into my stomach when I see none other than Ashley Halliwell standing in my doorway.

  Well, this is awkward.

  Last time I saw her, she was Griff’s wife.

  Last time I saw Griff, he was squeezing my ass and kissing me goodbye.

  Yep, awkward.

  I also know she’s been causing some kind of trouble with the divorce, so I definitely should not talk to her. I can’t bring myself to be rude, though. Part of me wants to. She cheated on Griff. I remember how he felt before Sebastian asked me to play seamstress and stitch him back up. I’m still not completely sure he’s over what she did to him, but I know he’s happy where he is now, so I can let it go as long as she leaves him alone going forward. I just want her to go away so we never have to see her again.

  As if enjoying my discomfort, her fake smile widens with a hint of authenticity. “Hey, friend.”

  I look away uncomfortably, shifting my weight. “Hey, Ashley.”

  “Gonna invite me in?” she asks, brightly.

  I can feel my face heating up with embarrassment, but I shake my head. “I can’t. Actually, now’s not a good time. I, um… I was in the middle of doing something.”

  “My husband?” she shoots back, still smiling. “You’re fucking him now, right? You’re why he doesn’t come home?”

  Come home?

  I want to remind her they don’t live together, that he’s trying his damndest to divorce her, that
she cheated on him multiple times. But all those words get stuck in my throat. She’s so full of confidence as she stands here like she has a legitimate bone to pick with me, like I’m the problem in her life and once she removes me, there will be no thorns left in her paw.

  She needs to leave.

  “This is inappropriate,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave.”

  I go to shut the door, but she laughs, pushing against the door. “Oh, no, sweetie; I’m not going anywhere.”

  My heart accelerates. Even though I tell myself there’s nothing she can do to hurt me, I don’t feel confident in that assertion as she shoves my front door open and walks inside.

  I fall back a couple steps, darting a desperate look toward the living room. I left my cell phone in there. I can’t even call… I don’t even know which one I call. Sebastian, because he’s my husband? Griff, because Ashley is his problem?

  Ashley slams my front door shut and looks around. She’s been in my foyer many times so there’s nothing new here, but she still looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time.

  “You have a beautiful house, you know that? What am I saying? Of course you know that. Gorgeous house, sexy as hell husband, life of leisure. You’ve got it made, don’t you, Moira?”

  “I’m a very lucky woman. You were, too,” I remind her.

  She turns back to face me, smiling benignly. “I will be again, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Now, I realize it’s going to be a little awkward, us being friends again after you’ve fucked my husband six ways to Sunday. He’ll probably moon at you for a while and make it weird. I’m not excited about any of it, but it is what it is. You’re his fantasy girl. You know how most husbands would want to fuck, say, Mila Kunis as their free pass? You’re Griff’s Mila Kunis, so I’m gonna forgive him for this one.”

  The very notion of her ever getting her claws back into Griff makes my skin crawl. He’s not here and I know that won’t happen, but I just want to grab him, snuggle him close, and protect him from her. “You need to leave,” I tell her again.

  She ignores me, her heels clacking against marble as she walks in a slow circle around me. “The thing that really chaps my ass though, Moira, isn’t that you’re a homewrecking little slut, it’s that you’re a greedy little slut. You already have everything. You have the perfect life, the hotter husband, the richer husband—I don’t for one split second buy that bullshit Sebastian feeds everyone about how he cuts everything down the middle between him and Griff. He’s too fucking shrewd for that, and Griff is too fucking trusting to ever question him. That’s beside the point. The point is, you already had the better hand—why did you have to take mine, too? Why do you need both of them? Is this a pity fuck? Griff was feeling down and Sebastian’s just a hell of a friend, offered up his wife’s pussy as a salve?”

  “I’ve asked you to leave multiple times. I’m going to stop asking nicely—”

  “Oh, boo hoo,” she says, mockingly rubbing her eyes. She comes to a stop and stares me down. “Here’s how this is going to go down, princess. You stop fucking my husband. He’s never going to come back to me if your legs are open. Stop being a whore and stay the fuck out of my way so I can fix my marriage.”

  This is starting to piss me off. I don’t like to be aggressive with people, but I sort of want to kick her in the face. “If you wanted to fix your marriage, Ashley, you had years to do it. You had a wonderful husband and you took him for granted. You’re delusional if you think there’s even a slim chance he’ll get back together with you. That’s never going to happen. You can send him all the nudes and clingy texts you want, he does not want you. That’s not going to change, and it has nothing to do with me. It has to do with you cheating on him and hurting him. Fighting him tooth and nail like this is ridiculous. You don’t love him. Not once have you accepted responsibility for hurting him, not once have you said a damn thing about his happiness or anything remotely related to love. The only person you care about is yourself. If you were the last woman on the planet, Griff still wouldn’t want you.”

  She grins at me like I’ve just shown my hand and I feel like I swallowed my heart. “How did you know what I’ve been texting him? Did he tell you? Did Saint Griff feel so guilty for looking at his own wife’s vagina when he’s clearly been burying himself deep in yours that he had to confess his sins?” She laughs. “He’s such a good Catholic boy, isn’t he? Well, you know, except for fucking his best friend’s wife. That’s not terribly virtuous, now, is it?”

  I normally don’t have a vicious side, but I’m sorely tempted to tell her he was too busy getting his big dick sucked to care about the picture she sent. I can’t, since that would verify that I am sleeping with him, but I can’t keep from offering up a sweet smile and at least telling her, “He didn’t even look at the picture, Ashley. He deleted it and went back to eating breakfast with me and talking about life.”

  Her smile slips. I’m sure it’s discomfiting, the reminder that our relationship isn’t as shallow as theirs, isn’t held up by childish games or boob jobs or fucking. Yes, we like fucking each other, but that’s not all we have. Griff and I had a friendship long before we ever touched one another intimately.

  Ashley can’t say the same thing. They were never really friends, not even once they were married. Their relationship always seemed more superficial, at least to me.

  Her tone is less aggressive now as she reels herself in and talks more calmly. “You can’t keep this up, Moira. Be practical. I don’t entirely understand what the hell is going on here, but I do know Sebastian. He might be kinky enough to lease you out temporarily to ease Griff’s pain, but he’s not going to share you forever. The longer Griff fucks you, the more attached he’ll get. Sebastian is smart enough to know that.”

  “You don’t know my husband, Ashley. Don’t pretend to.”

  “I’ve known your husband for years, sweetie. I think I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

  “If you had, you’d know better than to barge into my house and talk a bunch of shit to me,” I inform her. “Now, get the fuck out before I call the police and file a restraining order against you. I’m feeling pretty threatened right now,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes.

  “You should,” she tells me, smiling over her shoulder as she turns and heads for the door. Pausing with her hand on the handle, she informs me, “I’m going to drag your dirty laundry all over this fucking city, Moira. Everyone in Philly will know you’re spreading your legs for Griff. Cheating on Sebastian. Oh, the things people will believe about you. Just wait. You’re in for a treat.”

  My heart is in my throat, but I walk to the door and force myself to remain calm. “I would strongly advise against that. You’ve made your bed, Ashley. You had Griff. You lost him because you cheated on him. You got your just desserts. Walk away. You’re young and beautiful; you’ll find another bank account to milk.”

  Unaffected, she raises an eyebrow. “This is your only warning, sweetie. Stop fucking my husband, let him come back to me, and we can all get back to our regularly scheduled lives. He’s not really your speed anyway. I know what you and Sebastian are into, and I know Griff isn’t. This arrangement won’t work, and when it fails—after the whole city knows what a dirty little slut you are—it’s going to tank their friendship. Griff thinks with his heart. You let him get in much deeper, he’s not coming back out—not even when Sebastian tells him to. You’re risking your own marriage to play this game. You’re not ready for the big leagues. Do the smart thing. Get off Griff’s dick and give him nowhere else to turn. Watch. He’ll come home. I guarantee it.”

  I shake my head, astounded by how little she knows a man she spent so many years with. “You’re wrong. And you’re not welcome here, so don’t come back.”

  “I’ll give you the night to think it over. If Griff isn’t home tomorrow after he gets off work, I poison the grape vine with sordid tales of how you single-handedly ruined my marriage. No woman in po
lite society will ever trust you again.”

  I stop in the doorway, but she’s already through it and heading for her car. “That’s bullshit and you know it. People will see this for what it is. No one will believe you.”

  “Stop collecting husbands and we won’t have to find out,” she calls back.

  “You’re horrible,” I tell her. “You’ve done enough to that man. Let him be happy.”

  She turns back just so I can see her roll her eyes at me. “No.”

  I watch her drop into the car Griff bought her, the car she’s still driving, and a claustrophobic feeling of helplessness steals over me. I can’t keep her from running her mouth, and while I told her no one would fall for her bullshit, I know better. Several of the women in our social circles already don’t trust me and I’ve never done a damn thing to warrant it. Their husbands are nice to me—their gray-haired, pot-bellied husbands. I’m married to Sebastian, for fuck’s sake. My husband is sex in a suit; what use would I even have for the unimpressive louts they married? For that matter, what good is a man who goes sniffing around another woman anyway?

  There’s no logic to it, they’re just threatened by me—my looks or my personality, perhaps the old-fashioned way I take care of my husband’s needs and treat him well. I don’t know if they’re jealous of me or my relationship, perhaps just envious of the youth they no longer feel they possess. I am the youngest wife in our crowd. Most men of Sebastian’s age aren’t as established unless they’re born into one of the right families, but Sebastian had a point to prove. When my husband has a point to prove, he’ll move mountains to accomplish it.

  That’s why Ashley should keep her mouth shut.

  She cost herself Griff’s affection and she knows it, she just doesn’t want to let go of the bank account that comes with him. All she can do is try to terrorize him into giving in, and since she knows he’s fond of me, she thinks she can use me to do it.

  If she thinks I give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks of my relationships, though, she’s dead wrong.