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“Hey,” I reply, voice cracking slightly when I dip to kiss her. She turns her head at the last second, though, and my lips hit her cheek.
Disappointment makes my stomach drop. I can't help it—I really want to fucking kiss her.
Pulling back, she glances over my shoulder with a wicked smirk. “Oh, you two are adorable together.”
Owen raises his drink in a toast. “Hey, Salem.”
She slides into the booth across from him like this is just a normal meet up and not the most surreal moment of my entire damn life. Her chin drops into her hand as she glances between us, smiling softly. “So, you're my husband's boyfriend.”
I choke on the sip of water I'd been drinking and slap at my chest.
Shit, getting right down to it, then.
Owen doesn't miss a beat. “And you're his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Or did those papers get lost in transit?”
Salem waves him off with a snort before stealing a drink of his mai tai. “Semantics. If you want to get super technical, we're estranged.”
“Like you two haven't jerked off together on camera over the last six months. He does tell me everything, you know.”
I drop my head into my arms with a groan. “Great. Now there are two of you ganging up on me.”
“Get used to it,” Owen says, nudging my knee under the table. “You picked us both.”
Salem grins around the straw she’s chewing. “He really did. Poor guy thought he was catching a break from me by getting someone new.”
“Masochist,” Owen agrees, snatching his drink back.
I glare at them both through my fingers. “I’m right here, you know.”
“Unfortunately,” my wife deadpans, but her eyes shine with affection.
Fuck, I wouldn’t trade this for anything, this beautiful in-between we’re living. My past and present somehow coexisting in this booth with me as if it’s no big deal.
Salem's expression softens as she reaches for our hands. “I really am happy for you both. I love this for us.”
“And you?” I ask, inquiring about her own relationship with two of Symbiotic's band members. “Everything going good with Pep and Q?”
She glances at her phone with an odd, almost shy smile. “Yep. All good on that front.”
Owen and I share a look.
“That didn’t sound suspicious at all,” he drawls, rolling his eyes.
I lean over to peek at her phone screen. “Did someone accidentally send a dick pic to the group chat again?”
She drags a hand down her face. “That was one time.”
“Wait, who’s the one packing?” Owen asks. “Pepper or Quinn?”
Salem levels him with a withering look. “You’re not allowed to ask me that!”
“Definitely Quinn,” I answer instead. “Pepper's his wife, she's the drummer.”
“You're not supposed to tell anyone they're married,” she hisses before kicking my leg under the table. “It's not public information!”
“Who's Owen gonna tell? He doesn't even like metal.”
She narrows her eyes at me, fighting a smile. “That’s not the point.”
