Page 20 of After Care

I was pathetic, I decided. It wasn’t going to happen. I’d had random sex with Tommy. How did I feel about that? Overwhelmed. Out of body. Orgasmic. There was no doubt I’d been more aroused than I’d ever been. Just kissing was an experience with him, and when I thought of it my lips tingled. I wanted more. I wanted another round. I wanted him.

And that was not a good decision.

That night, I was invited to come to the penthouse suite. Ivy stressed that she wanted Gage to apologize in person. I told her there was no need, that I understood his motives, but she insisted. I was nervous, and I asked my kids to come with me, more as buffers than anything. Caleb said he had people to meet, and Masie said she was going to work on some reading for her winter break homework. As weak as these were for excuses, I had no choice but to go alone.

The penthouse had a sprawling private balcony, and the band was in a relaxed state of mind, scattered around on outdoor couches and settees. Ava and Emaline were already in bed. Gage lazily strummed a guitar over his legs, despite their earlier band practice. Ivy had greeted me with a warm hug and another round of apologies.

“He’s just…stupid, sometimes,” she offered weakly as she led me closer to the group. Tommy sat in a chair with his legs sprawled apart, his arm resting over the wicker arm. A beer dangled between two fingers, one of which wore a large silver ring. He didn’t greet me, other than a head nod, like I was someone he recognized but didn’t know.

“Gage,” Ivy demanded, crossing her arms and staring down at her husband. He propped the guitar next to the couch and stood slowly, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“I’m sorry, Edie.” Silence followed the statement, and I swore I heard a whale bellow in the distance. It was painfully awkward for both of us.

“And?” Ivy said icily. Gage swiped his fingers through his dark hair, looking away from me.

He’s nervous, I thought.

“I didn’t mean what I said, that you should stay away from Ivy.” The silence again filled with the tick-tock of an unseen clock.

“Keep going,” Ivy snapped, lowering her crossed arms to two fists at her sides.

“I’d like you to spend time with Ivy, especially because she doesn’t have many friends.”

“Gage!” she growled, almost as if she were warning him.

“What are we?” Petty interjected, sounding hurt. Tommy sat forward to cuff him on the shoulder. “What?” Petty whined.

“Female friends,” Gage amended in response to his wife.

“And?” Ivy repeated, her foot tapping. Literally. She tapped her sandal-covered toes like a scolding mother.

“Jesus, fuck, Ivy,” he hissed, glaring at his wife.

“Is that couch comfy, Jared?” she questioned the other band member sitting on an outdoor sofa.

“N—”

“Don’t answer that,” Gage said, holding up a hand to his friend.

“You know, this is kind of bullshit,” West said, glaring at Gage before standing from his chair, excusing himself from this painful scene. Ivy’s foot stopped tapping, but her fists clenched harder. Gage and she stared at one another for a few moments before Gage looked away. I couldn’t believe this powerful front man for a successful band was waffling under his wife’s gaze.

“And I’m an idiot for saying what I said.” He rushed the words out, then sat with a huff, picking up his guitar and placing it back over his knees.

“Close enough,” Ivy sighed. Then she stepped forward, took the guitar out of his hands and straddled his lap. She kissed him so passionately that I grew wet watching them, and then I looked away, ashamed at staring while they were so intimate, so private, so blissful. I caught Tommy watching me, and I had to look away from him as well.

“Get a room,” Jared groaned, picking up Gage’s guitar.

“Get out of mine,” Gage muttered against his wife’s mouth. There was no mistaking the I love yous that followed before Ivy shifted to curl up on her husband’s lap. The love between them was so intense, it vibrated in the air, and while I felt weak at the knees from the display, I wanted to cry as well.

“Take a seat, Edie,” Jared offered, and I sat opposite him on another couch. Petty was to my left, but suddenly Tommy was trading seats with him. The blond fell into the single chair and tipped his head back to stare at the stars.

“I need to get laid,” Petty moaned to the dark sky overhead. I giggled at his bluntness, but Tommy sat forward. He prepared to fist Petty’s leg but Petty was too quick, bending one knee toward the other, forcing Tommy to miss his target.

“Don’t be crass,” Tommy said.

“Since when did you become so uptight?” Jared asked of Tommy.

“Since he doesn’t get laid,” Petty sighed, looking back at the band manager with a gleam in his eye.