A few people around us applaud and whistle and then it’s back to the game.
Later that night, after the Sharks beat the Bruins in overtime, we go to her place and fall into bed together. The talk of tying me up is gone and I don’t care. I just want to be inside her, feeling every square inch of her soft, warm body. I’m getting buried in what we are, what we make each other feel and I don’t care. It’s so good. What we have is so fucking good.
“I think I’m losing myself,” I whisper to her after we’ve come, our bodies naked, sweaty and sated, limbs draped over limbs, hands holding onto hands. My throat feels thick, my breath heavy, my words weigh a ton. “Every time I’m inside you, with you, I think I lose a little bit more.”
I turn my head to the side to look at her. She’s staring at me with big, wet eyes so full of everything I could ever want from her. “In the end you might have all my pieces,” I tell her. “Please be gentle with them.”
I don’t know why I expect her to laugh at that or call me cheesy again but she doesn’t. Maybe because it’s true and she can see that. She reaches over and traces my lips with her fingertips. They smell like sex. They smell like heaven.
“Linden,” she says and her voice sounds like snow. “Please be gentle with me.”
Something in my chest snaps and shakes loose.
I love her.
I love her so god damn much.
“I promise,” I say and hold her close to me. I count the steady beats of her heart against mine before we both fall asleep. There is nothing but warmth in my dreams.
***
The next morning I drop Stephanie off at work. Already I know something between us has changed, another layer uncovered. There is this air of tenderness permeating every look, every touch. It makes me feel more fragile than I would like.
So I go to the gym and spend a few hours there working my legs and arms before my afternoon flight. Then when that’s all over, I pop into The Burgundy Lion to get my bearings and have a pint.
James is there and so is Penny. I’m especially glad to see her, though I’m not really sure why. I haven’t talked to James much the past couple of weeks, not really since Thanksgiving, and I haven’t been into the Lion. Naturally, I’ve been in Steph’s bed and she’s been in mine.
The guilt is starting to get to me, I must admit. At first I really was doing it out of courtesy, or at least just to put off the inevitable awkwardness. I didn’t want my relationship with James to change. But it is changing and I can’t be the only one who feels it. Now the fact that I’ve secretly been sleeping with Stephanie for six weeks seems like dirty pool. It feels like a big, shameful lie when it should be anything but.
“Well, look who it is,” Penny says as I step into the bar. She at the counter, in her usual spot. I pull up a chair next to her and catch James’s eye as he tends to a customer. He nods back but doesn’t smile. In fact, he looks a bit ticked off. I really hope he’s just in a mood and it has nothing to do with me.
“Hey sugarcakes,” I tell her.
“Sugarcakes?”
I shrug. “Why not? Those are two good things aren’t they?”
She purses her red lips and eyes me through her glasses. “Depends if you’re on a diet or not. Where have you been, stranger?”
“Around,” I say, deflecting. “How are you?”
“Not drunk enough.”
“Well it is only five in the afternoon.”
“You’re Scottish, who are you to talk?”
“Good point. I should get started.” I wait until James has a free moment and then I wave him down. “Hey fuckface,” I say.
He doesn’t even blink. “Fuckface?”
“He called me sugarcakes,” Penny mumbles into her drink.
I frown at him. “Don’t tell me your nickname is suddenly offensive.”
“I don’t know man, I haven’t seen you in forever. Thought maybe you’d be a little friendlier than that.”
He pulls an Anchor Steam out of the fridge and plonks it down in front of me but then heads around the other side of the bar.
I look at Penny. “What is up his ass?”
She exhales in a low whistle. “Well, I actually don’t know, to tell you the truth. He’s been a bit, um, bitchy with me lately too.”
I don’t like to hear this. I like Penny. I lean forward on my elbows and give her a sidelong glance. She does look tired and maybe even like she’s been crying. “Having a bit of a rough patch?”
She nods quickly, her chin quivering a bit, but manages to pull herself together fast. “Yeah. I hope it’s a patch.”
“You guys are great together, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I tell her and suddenly I feel better, as if my words are truth.
“I don’t know,” she says and then she leans in a bit closer. She smells like whisky and I realize she’s actually quite drunk. “If I asked you something, would you be able to tell me the truth?”
I’m not sure I’m good with the truth anymore. But I nod. “Of course.”
“Is James cheating on me?”
My head jerks back. “No. Cheating on you? No. I mean, not that I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, I’m not really around much lately, you know how things are, but I can tell you that James is not the cheating type. He’s too sensitive for that shit. He’d spill the beans to you out of guilt if he ever did. And he’s a big believer in karma.”
“Okay,” she says quietly and turns her attention back to her drink.
“What makes you say that?” I ask, because now I’m curious. James is a pretty loyal guy. In fact, he’s as loyal as they come, which in turn makes you feel you need to be just as loyal to him.
“I don’t know…just a feeling. Like there is someone else.”
And then my heart skips a few beats before coming back hard. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Call it woman’s intuition.”
I have to be careful with my words. I don’t want her to think the thing I’m thinking if she’s not already thinking it. I don’t want her to think of Stephanie. “Is that not the same thing as paranoia?”
She glares at me. “It’s a thing, all right? I just don’t think he’s in love with me anymore.”
“So you think it’s a new girl?”
“I’m not sure about that either. But if it wasn’t anything before, it’s definitely something now.” Her eyes seek the ceiling and I think she’s trying not to cry but then she slams down her empty whisky glass and says, “Damn it all to hell. Isn’t that what the dames say in the forties films, when they find out their lover has been unfaithful? Damn it all to hell.”
I can only stare at her, my gut full of pity for her and selfish worry for me. It can’t be Stephanie. If James really is pulling away from Penny, it’s for other reasons. Maybe there is some other woman I don’t know about. I don’t know. I haven’t been around. Maybe James isn’t the loyal guy I thought he was.
Maybe he’s just as good at keeping secrets as I am.
That thought sobers me up and I find myself knocking back the beer until it’s gone. When James finally does reappear at our end, Penny has left. I didn’t even notice her go, that’s how wrapped up in my own head I am.
“Hey man,” I say to him. His eyes slide slowly to mine. “Sorry I called you a fuckface without warning.”
“It’s fine,” he grumbles.
“Are you all right? You seem like you’re PMSing a wee bit.”
He gives me a steady look, the kind of look that tells you take a few steps back. I remain anchored to my stool though, because I’ve never been the one to back down between us.
I wave the bottle at him. “I could sure go for another one.”
James puts his hands on the counter, that ever present washcloth in one hand, and leans forward. “You know what, Linden, you have some nerve. You don’t speak to me for weeks and then you come waltzing in here like everything is all right.”
“It’s not all right?”
&nbs
p; “No.”
“Look, man, buddy, pal. I have spoken to you. Have you checked your damn phone? I’ve been texting you. You’ve been texting back. It’s not like we aren’t speaking.”
“You know what I mean.”
I have to play stupid. “No. I don’t. I’ve been busy lately, that’s it.”
“What kind of busy?” he asks in an accusatory tone.
“Like, life busy.”
“Not pussy busy?”
“No.”
“You know I saw you.”
Ah shitnuggets.
“Saw me? What does that mean?”
He straightens up and folds his arms across his chest. “You and Stephanie.”
Ice water. In my chest, in my veins, everywhere. Somehow I manage not to speak.
James goes on. “I was watching the Sharks game, man. I saw you two on the Kiss Camera. It sure looked like you enjoyed it.”
I swallow. Hard. Then I lean back in my seat and giving him an easy smile. “So?”
He frowns. “So?” he spits out. “What the hell were you doing at the game with her?”
“She wanted to go.”
“That was our thing, man.”
“I know,” I say, feeling an iota of relief at where this is going. “But she called me up having a bad day and I thought it would be a great way to cheer her up.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” he says bitterly. “Why didn’t you invite me?”
“It was last minute, you were working.”
“I could have arranged something.”
I shrug. “Well, I didn’t know.”
“And why the fuck were you kissing her?”
And now it’s coming around to this again. I have to diffuse this bomb and quick.
“It was a kiss cam, that’s what you’re supposed to do. Like I’m going to be that dude who doesn’t kiss the hot girl beside him.”
“You think Stephanie is hot?”
I snort in open disbelief. “Are you kidding me? She’s fucking hot as hell.”
“That’s my ex-girlfriend you’re talking about.”
I roll my eyes. “And my friend. What, friends can’t call each other hot? You’re pretty hot yourself James, in that emo, hipster, spends too much time in a dark basement kind of way.”
“Fuck you.”
“Dude, don’t be so homophobic.”
He’s still glaring at me. He wants to bring the conversation back to Stephanie.
“Besides,” I tell him. I’m about to lie right through my damn teeth and I hope Stephanie doesn’t murder me for it. “She has a boyfriend now.”
“What?” James snaps to attention.
Uh oh. Maybe Penny was right.
“Uh, well he’s not really her boyfriend. Fuck buddies I guess. But yeah, she’s seeing someone. Casually. But still. Sees him. Like, he’s there. Visible. In the picture.”
“Who the hell is this guy? She hasn’t told me anything. What’s his name?”
My eyes flit over to the neon Guinness sign on the wall. “Ireland.”
“His name is Ireland?”
“Yup. Ireland Brownglass.”
“Ireland Brownglass?”
I throw my hands up. “Dude, I can’t help his name. True story.”
“Where the hell did she meet Ireland Brownglass?”
“At a bar in the Castro.”
“What? Are you sure he’s not gay?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, he could be. I’m sure Stephanie will figure that out soon. She’s a smart girl.”
He looks mildly distraught. “I can’t believe she’s seeing someone.”
“Well maybe don’t be a stranger,” I tell him. I nearly recoil at the look I get in response. “What? I’m just saying, reach out more. That’s all. It can’t be a one-way street here. If you’re mad I’m not calling you, call me. Life is just going to get busier the older we get.”
I also want to add that it shouldn’t be a big deal if she’s seeing someone but I’m afraid of what his response will be. I’m afraid of what could be truth, because the moment I hear that James is in love with her, I know I’m going to have to make some difficult choices. Choices that will destroy at least one friendship.
So I don’t say anything. I just drink my beer and then when James gets busy again, I fish out my phone and text Steph.
By the way, I told James that you’re seeing a guy called Ireland Brownglass. You met at a bar in the Castro, and he might be gay but you don’t know that yet. Long story, I’ll explain later.
She answers a minute later: This better be good.
I’m not sure if it is good and I’m not sure how much I can really explain without tipping her off.
It’s starting to feel like we’re slowly losing a hold on things.
I just need to hold tighter.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STEPHANIE
You know how drunken karaoke can be the most annoying sound in the world? Well, drunken karaoke Christmas songs are even worse. The only saving grace comes when someone replaces the words “silver bells” with “silver fuck, pickup truck.”
That’s currently what James is singing right now, standing on top of his bar of all places and belting out the strangest rendition of “Silver Bells” I’ve ever heard. But at least he’s more entertaining than half the people tonight.
It’s The Burgundy Lion’s company Christmas party and we’re all gathered there to drink cheap punch and strong eggnog and get our ears blown out by each other’s inflated sense of self. It’s like having a front row ticket to the American Idol auditions. No, wait a minute. It’s worse.
I know I can’t sing, so I do the world a favor and stay put in my booth. Linden, of course, can sing and is used to being on the Lion’s stage way back in the day. He’s the only one who has done a decent job tonight. I say decent because he is drunk and he did try and sing the Led Zep song “Battle of Evermore.” Anyone who knows anything about music, or even how ears work, knows that you do not attempt to sing like Robert Plant when you’re plastered.
It’s a week before Christmas and tonight is the first time that Linden and I have been out in public together, among friends. But even though we’re out in public, we’re not out as a couple. I’m sitting on one side of the booth with Penny and Kayla while Linden sits with Dan. All of us are trying not to watch James but it’s like a car accident that just kind of pulls you in.
I lean over to Penny. “You should be proud.”
She nods. “Oh yes, very.”
She’s been a bit different lately. Granted I’ve only seen her on a few occasions and we never talk about the deep stuff, so I’m not sure what’s going on in her life. But she’s quiet, almost morose. I make a mental note to ask her later, in private, how she’s really doing.
“So how are you and Ireland?” she asks. “Ireland Brownglass, right?”
Linden kicks my leg under the table and I fight the urge to look at him. I remember now he has sent me a text last week about this but then when I saw him again, we fell into bed together and it never came up.
“Ireland…good. We’re good.” I nod. “We’re great.”
“And you met in the Castro?”
“Ow!” Kayla shrieks from beside me. “Who just kicked me? Was it you, asshole?”
I turn to see her pointing an accusatory finger at Linden. He holds up his palms, eyes wide. It’s funny how scared he is of Kayla half the time. I think he really feels bad about screwing her over.
“Um,” I say slowly, tearing my eyes off of him and looking back at Penny. “Yes. The Castro.”
“And he’s not gay?”
“Oh,” I say and pretend to consider that. “Yeah. Maybe he is. I don’t know. We broke up.”
She makes a sad clucking sound. “Aw, I’m so sorry.” Pause. “I thought you said you were great.”
“I meant I was great. It was mutual.”
“Oh. I’m still sorry.”
“Yeah,” I say looking down at my beer. ?
??He was probably gay.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kayla whispers in my ear but I ignore her.
“Okay,” I say standing up. “I’m going to get a round of shots, who wants one?”
“Me!” Linden practically bolts out of the booth.
He walks beside me to the bar and I’m so conscious of the distance between us. It feels so unnatural now to be with him and not have his large hand at the small of my back, or his arm around my shoulder. He’s just so touchy feely with me it feels terribly wrong to not feel him at all.
“That was a close one,” he says under his breath as we head over to the bar. James has just climbed off of it and is helping himself to the punch at the other end, so we get one of the working bartenders to pour us both a shot of Jameson.
“Make it two,” Linden says.
“You’re already drunk,” I tell him.
“Where is your festive spirit, baby,” he says, leaning close to me. His lips nestle right below my ear. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Not here,” I whisper softly, smiling for Caroline, the bartender who is pouring us the shots. She gives me a funny look but I keep my fun smile pasted on, like this is just what friends do, whisper intimate things in each other’s ears.
And now he’s nibbling on my earlobe. My body immediately relaxes, wanting more, while my mind is reminding we aren’t safe and this isn’t appropriate.
“Linden,” I warn.
He stops nibbling but he doesn’t pull away. “Have I told you how fucking hot you look tonight?” His warm breath tickles me.
“No. Do go on, though.”
“Your dress is amazing.” He’s right about that. It’s strapless red satin to my knees, with a corset waist that sucks me in and makes my breasts look ridiculous. “You look like a Disney Princess.”
“A Disney Princess?”
“Yeah,” he whispers roughly. “One of those princesses who look like they might give you a BJ if you play your cards right but in the end she probably won’t.”
I laugh. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I can show you.”
“Here you go,” Caroline says, loudly, so that we break apart and she pushes the four shots our way.