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We clinked glasses again, and Marcus said, “At least we were lucky enough to have successful marriages. Many of my friends didn’t even make it past five years.”
“I hear you. A committed relationship is hard but rewarding.”
“I think the key is communication because as the years go by, you both change and grow and can sort of lose track of each other if you don’t check in regularly,” Marcus said, staring at a fixed point near the street.
“True.” I was suddenly feeling a bit ill. “And there were things I never told her…about me. About when I was a teen.”
“We all have stuff we keep private. You’ve been carrying this guilt around this whole time?” he asked, concern in his tone.
“Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. I just…she was a good woman, and I always thought, Damn, I’m lucky to have her and never wanted to rock the boat.” I blamed the whiskey for my loose tongue. “Grant loved her so much, and sometimes I felt like a third wheel… Fuck, why am I saying this to you?”
“I’m glad to be here for you.” He patted my knee. “Don’t feel bad about it.”
“I guess the whiskey doesn’t help,” I mused. “Thanks for…being here. For making me feel comfortable.”
“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “And damn, the guilt can swallow you whole.”
“What kind of guilt are you carrying around?” I swung my glass toward him, and some sloshed on my wrist.
“About going on a date, for one.”
“We all have needs. Emotional and physical.”
“I didn’t for a long time,” he admitted, making me recall one of our earlier conversations.
“Same. I haven’t until…” I clamped my mouth shut. Holy shit, what was I saying?
“Until what?” he asked, leaning forward a little.
My heart thumped in a staccato rhythm. I was dying to get it off my chest, to finally say it out loud to someone. I inhaled a sharp breath, then went for it. “Until recently when…well, actually when you announced your date in group.” There, I’d said it. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.
“I don’t understand.”
Fuck, I so didn’t want to look at him. But this was important. Maybe it would help him understand better my behavior that day.
“You asked why I was acting so strange in group…I was a jerk for not snapping out of it sooner,” I explained, “but it wasn’t because I was being insensitive. It was because you brought forth something in me that’d been buried for a long time.”
“Your physical needs?” he asked, clearly confused.
I almost laughed because I was probably making little sense. I wouldn’t have understood my weak-ass explanation either.
“In a way, yes.” I swallowed. “That same night, I dreamed of someone I hadn’t in a long time.”
“Who was it?”
“My first crush in high school.” I could feel my face heating. “It was a guy.”
He gasped, his hand covering his mouth, but waited me out.
“We experimented with each other, then went our separate ways,” I said, my stomach warming at the memory of those first times. It was after I’d already lost my virginity to my first girlfriend, and it had felt different but good. So fucking good. “I went on to crush on other guys…and girls. No way I wanted to be found out because my dad was—is—a super homophobe.”
And I hadn’t wanted to make waves at home, just like I never did in my own marriage. Christ, that sudden awareness took my breath away. I was too careful with everything.
“Are you telling me you’re bisexual?”
“I honestly never had a name for it until…well, until your confession. Rebecca never knew. Nobody did. Every now and again, I’d fantasize while jacking off, but it’s been so damned long. And if Grant knew… We’re already on such shaky ground.”
“Hey, your secret is safe with me,” he said, and I knew he meant it. “But I’m curious about that dream. Why do you think you had it?”
“Probably because I’ve been numb for so long…and it felt like being shocked awake to hear you’d taken that leap with someone. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Again, I’m sorry I reacted that way. I would take it back if I could.”
“Don’t waste another precious minute worrying about it. Okay?”
I sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
We stayed silent, each processing while sipping the rest of the bourbon in our glasses.
“Does this mean you’re ready to get out there?” Marcus asked hesitantly.
“Hell no. I’ll just live vicariously through you. I’ll consider it—maybe—once Grant has graduated and is well into college.”
“But you have needs too.” He sat up. “And there would be nothing wrong with you—”
“No way. Even discussing it makes me feel sick to my stomach and guilty as hell.”
“Understood.”
I unscrewed the top on the whiskey and poured a bit more into my glass. When I motioned to him, he waved me away, which made sense because he had to drive home.
