“Mmm, Jack. Tell me I’m your good girl,” I breathed, watching his eyes widen.
“Fucking hell, Grace, you’re my only good girl,” he whispered, his left hand leaving my hips to palm my breast.
He rolled my nipple between his fingers and pinched it slightly. I cried out at the touch, and he increased his pressure. My skin was hot, crazy hot as the morning sun poured in the windows. His body was slick with sweat, and my hands snuck down to tease where we were joined. He watched as I stroked myself, grunting his approval at my touch.
“Jack, oh, God, so good…I…mmm…please…Jack!” I screamed as I came hard around him, clamping down and shaking as I threw my head back. He caught me, sitting up beneath me, driving deeper and further into me as his own orgasm made him cry out.
“Grace,” he murmured as his body shook with rapture.
I cradled him to my chest, feeling him pulse inside me. I wrapped my legs firmly behind his back, making sure to keep him where I wanted him. My hands slid across his back and into his damp hair, rocking him slowly as we settled in. I was thoroughly overwhelmed with feeling for him, this man who was so dear to me. He felt so close, so warm, so mine.
I kissed his cheek, pressing my forehead against his as he smiled. “I love you so much. You know that, right?” I looked him dead in the eye, suddenly serious. I was overcome with a longing—almost anxiety—to hold him here, in this bed, in this room, and never come out. We were perfect, in this bed, in this room.
“I do know that. I love you too, sweet girl.” He sighed, crushing me to him, face tight against my chest.
We were quiet. We were still. We were content. It was the calm before the storm.
***
The rest of that day was…well, it just was. The best word to describe it is surreal.
It began with Holly’s arrival with bagels and the laughing judgment of our performance she’d heard over the phone. She was a dirty girl and hadn’t hung up right away, instead enjoying the free phone sex we so thoughtfully provided.
Jack took an indulgent shower while we had some girl time. She complimented me again on the colors I’d chosen for my kitchen as we sat and talked. It was the first time I’d seen her since I’d left for New York.
“I do love how you laid out this kitchen, Grace. It’s perfect. I’m thinking of redoing mine. Maybe next year,” she said thoughtfully, swirling cream cheese on her Asiago bagel.
“Don’t you dare! Your kitchen is perfect. You just miss me cooking in it, which I’ll do as soon as I get home. Michael and I cook all the time in my kitchen in New York, but it’s nothing like this one,” I added, spreading butter on my own everything bagel.
“When do you think you’ll be coming home?” she asked, looking around for Jack.
“He’s in the shower, why? What’s up?” I looked at her carefully.
“Well, do you think the show’s going to be picked up? If it does, are you ready to move across the country? If it does well you could be there a year, maybe even longer,” she said, arching an eyebrow and taking an obnoxiously big bite. Cream cheese oozed out the side of her mouth.
“You’re disgusting. You know that, right?” I frowned as I handed her a napkin.
“Shut it, and don’t change the subject. What will you do? Are you prepared for that? You sure this is what you want?” she asked again, wiping her chin.
I sighed and leaned on my elbow. I’d been thinking a lot about this lately. When I first got to New York, it was just so busy and exciting and thrilling. But now that we were getting close to the previews, and there was a real shot at this becoming a fully mounted production, I realized things could change. For real. But Michael made things easier. He made me feel at home in New York. Like I belonged there.
“This is the single most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d be an idiot to turn my back and walk away,” I answered, putting down my bagel and laying my head on the counter. My stomach had felt strange all morning, and now it was fluttering like crazy. Must be nerves about tonight.
“Grace?” Holly asked, placing a hand on my shoulder and shaking me a little.
“How could I walk away?” I asked, almost to myself.
“From the show or from Jack?” she asked quietly. I heard her bagel thunk down on the plate—a plate from the set I’d ordered and never even eaten a meal off of.
“What does Jack have to do with this?” I asked the countertop sharply.
“Grace, look at me,” she commanded. I peeked at her through my arms.
“Where’s your head? Why does it sound like you’re making a choice all of a sudden?”
“Well, don’t I have to? I mean, it’s going to come down to that eventually, right? How the hell can we keep this going like this? This is insane…” I began, surprised by the words coming out of my mouth.
Where was this coming from?
Where do you think? You have a giant mental drawer of “I will think about you tomorrows” you’ve piled up and never gone through. Someone asks you one little question and Now It Will Rain Shit.
“Grace? You really want to do this now? What else is going on?” she asked.
I looked at my best friend. The one who’d taken care of me so many times, looked out for me, and opened her home to me. The one who helped me get back on track and never, ever asked for anything in return, other than my friendship. She knew me as well as anyone, and the knowledge that I wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her made me lose it.
The tears came in a rush, flooding my eyes and dripping onto my cheeks and my shirt—his shirt. He’d cut a slit in each side of the neck hole so it would never get stuck again, making it mine now. When I’d said something about it, he smiled and said, “Heh-heh, you said neck hole.”
I sobbed silently, with no idea exactly why I was crying. All I knew was it had to come out. My thoughts were swirling, not letting me take a breath.
Holly just sat and watched me. Neither one of us was big on the sister hug. She patted my hand, then wiped my snot when I began to calm down.
“Okay, start at the beginning,” she said, her eyes kind.
“I don’t even know where the beginning is! I didn’t even know I was upset. I—I—” I began to wail again.
“Grace! Grace, get control. Calm down, ya dillhole,” she instructed.
Her words broke through my wail and made me laugh a little. I took some deep breaths and laid my head back down on the cool granite.
“Just talk, fruitcake, and we’ll see what sticks to the wall,” she said.
So I talked. And I talked. And I was terrified at what came out of me. I talked about how amazing the show was, and how happy I was in New York. I talked about how glad I was to be back up on a stage again, thrilled to be working with such amazing people. I talked about Michael, and how glad I was we were friends. I talked about Michael, and how close we’d gotten again.
I closed my eyes in sudden exhaustion. I was frightened by the images playing in cinemascope on the inside of my brain. My own little highlight reeclass="underline"
Snapshots of Jack and me driving up the coast, happy and carefree.
Michael and me arguing over lunch. Him stealing my fries when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Jack and I sexing it up on the floor of the closet together.
Michael walking away with Abigail, her tiny hand in his.
I stopped suddenly.
“Holly, do you ever think about having kids?”
“What?” she asked, her face astonished. Neither of us had ever wanted kids. It was one of the things we’d bonded over right away. We both promised we’d never turn into breeders.
“I mean it. Do you ever think about it?”
“Umm, no. Why? Is there something you want to tell me? You’re not…”
“No! I mean, no. But don’t you ever think about it?”
“Do you ever think about it?” she asked.