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Cole
There was a kind of poetry in her profile when sun and shadow got together on her face. I watched the dawning light dance on her porcelain skin. It flashed like bursts of hope between the cars of the commuter train running alongside our limo on the highway. Kara was softness personified. The gentle slope of her nose, the rise of her round cheekbones, the bow of her lips. I loved her face in the morning before she’d had a chance to put on the two hundred dollars’ worth of cosmetics she didn’t need. I loved her like this; when she looked like the Kara I’d always adored.
She pointed out the window to the train and the familiar Hunter Railways logo that was as classic American as the polo player on my shirt. So retro it was cool, or at least that’s what they were going to pitch to us at the meeting we were headed to New York City for.
“Must be a good omen,” she said. Then she put her oversized sunglasses back on, to my disappointment, and checked her watch. “Did they have to book us such an early flight? I don’t even think I got four hours of sleep last night.”
“Half a mil is worth it, I’d say. This would be our biggest account yet.”
“Can you believe it?” she mused. “It’s like we always dreamed. I’m not complaining. We should be at the hotel in plenty of time to change before our meeting.”
Kara wore her favorite Gucci joggers and fuzzy slippers. She’d tucked her jet-black hair under a big floppy hat. I had on my much-loved Levi’s 501 jeans that were so broken in that the back pocket threatened to tear away and announce to the world I roll commando. At least I do when catching a flight from LA to New York at the ass crack of the night. I’d had those jeans since college, same as Kara. I adored them both, but I was pretty sure I’d burn those things in a trash can if my dick could be rubbing up against her insides instead. What I wouldn’t do to have her reach into my zipper and part those perfect lips around the crown of my cock.
Jesus. I shook off the thought as best as I could.
“I’ll call ahead to make sure they put our rooms next to each other,” Kara said and dialed the hotel.
“Sounds good,” I said, spinning the platinum wedding band around my finger. Almost a year later, the thing still didn’t feel like a part of me.
“Oooh...you know what we have to do while we’re here this time?” she said suddenly.
“Get some Peking Duck from that market on Houston?”
“Definitely, and my mother will kill me if I don’t send her some of their Oolong tea. She says the Asian market in Palm Beach is a joke. Keeps hinting how much she misses Chinatown in LA.”
“Whatever keeps her in Florida, I’m all for it. There’s got to be some kind of subscription delivery for authentic Chinese groceries.”
“Then she’d have to stop pretending that’s the only reason she wants to move back.”
“She wants you to get pregnant.” This wasn’t a secret, but it was something we’d managed to skirt around successfully so far. Too busy. It was a reasonable excuse. Our lifestyle brand was killing it and our wedding eight months ago had been the LA social event of the season for the twenty-something it-crowd that was our kingdom. Kara + Cole was all over everyone’s social feed. Lately, if a trendy product or venue didn’t have our stamp of approval, it didn’t exist. Everyone had assumed we were a couple for years. So, when Kara found out the last guy she’d fallen hard for was a lying, cheating, bullshit artist with a wife and twin girls living clueless in the hills, I took her up on her threat to marry me. She thought it all made perfect sense since I was the only man in her life who would never hurt her. She was right. I wouldn’t, and I already knew I couldn’t have her, not the way I wanted to anyway. Screw it, I thought. We would travel the world together, have our silly inside jokes and laugh until our sides ached the way we always did. I married my best friend for business. It was cynical and impulsive, and it made us rich. People couldn’t get enough of our “fairytale.” We lied to everyone.
Kara turned to me, taking off her glasses again and nibbling on the arm. She did that when she was nervous. “I...think maybe I actually want to be pregnant.”
Hold the press. “What? How does that fit into this little charade we have going on here?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I just...want something real in my life.”
“Did you forget our wedding was the publicity stunt of the century?”
“No.”
“How would that even work?” I asked. “I mean, I didn’t agree to kids.” Not this way.
“Don’t worry, we wouldn’t have to have sex. I would never ask you to do that.”
There it was, the biggest lie of them all. I would die to have sex with Kara, to love her like I want to, like a real husband, a man who cherished her in every way. But Kara is under the distinct impression that her heart has never been safer with me, her best friend, because as far as she knows, I’m gay.
