Sex Retreat(70)

“My incarceration is what I want to talk about. We need to discuss the future.”

“Here we go,” Rory said, flopping down to the sofa. “Did anyone ever tell you…you’re a fuck-kill?”

Brock rapidly shook his head in apparent disgust.

“How’s that?” Mitch asked.

“It’s the same as a buzzkill,” Rory informed him. “You figure it out.”

“By all means, you have the floor now.”

“Good. That’s precisely what I want—the floor, a spot in the bed, a place up against the wall, a position between some very fine and talented legs…” Mitch turned to Trixie. “I want forever.”

Trixie blushed.

“If you’re proposing, I think this is pretty shitty,” Rory said. “Considering she already has two husbands and all.”

“So you think I should ask the two of you for her hand instead of going to her fathers?”

Rory stood. Brock threw his arm back and stopped him from stalking forward. “Actually, Mitch. It would’ve been the proper thing to do.”

“Proper? Well, since we’re such fine and upstanding citizens…”

“We are,” Rory said, cutting him off midsentence.

Mitch sat forward. He clasped his hands and dropped them between his legs. Bowing his head, he took a deep breath and came to terms with something then. No matter what he did or said, Brock and Rory would always feel like he’d deserted them and abandoned Trixie when she needed him most.

Trixie grabbed his hands and shook them. “Mitch, what did you want to say?”

He looked up and observed her precious face. There, he found the only acceptance he needed.

“Brock, Rory, you can relax,” he said. “What I’m proposing is something I’ve had time to think about a lot.”

“And what might that be?” Brock asked.

“I’ve thought of an arrangement of sorts and I think it might work for everyone.”

Trixie flinched. Immediately, her lips formed a sullen pucker.

Mitch decided to meet her gesture head-on. “You won’t like it, Trixie, but if you’ll consider what I’m proposing and think of Cazeron and Winter, I think you’ll agree it’s best for everyone.”

“He’s walking again,” Rory said, grimacing. “I knew it. He’s fucking walking again!”

“When hell freezes over,” Mitch said. “If you’d calm down and let me finish, I believe everyone will be happy with the arrangement. I think you’ll agree it’s best for the children.”

“You don’t know my children,” Trixie snapped.

“I don’t,” Mitch agreed. “But I can guess how your family feels about me and I also understand what it feels like to be a child in a very confusing relationship.”

Brock narrowed his gaze on Mitch as if he were willing him to keep his mouth shut. Brock probably wouldn’t like what he had to say but the truth needed to come out. There was no reason for the four of them to be together if Trixie didn’t understand why Rory, Brock, and Mitch were so close prior to meeting her.

“What do you know about a confusing relationship?” Rory said, stalking the refrigerator. Once there, he retrieved three longnecks and a bottle of water. Handing off the nonalcoholic beverage to Trixie, he then passed around the beer.

“Well let’s see,” Mitch began, settling against the cushion behind him. “How about this for a visual…I’m sixteen years old. My buddies are outside waiting for me in the convertible. I’m in a hurry. I don’t pay attention. I hit the door and then the stairs without so much as looking up. By the time I’m halfway up the second flight, I can tell my dad has a woman—a woman who is not my mother—bent over the banister.”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, Mitch. How devastating.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rory said bitterly. “The woman was my mom.”

“What?” she asked.

“It’s true,” Mitch said. “So I try to ignore them and hurry off in the opposite direction and pass my room because I hear this wailing and I think to myself, “That’s gotta be Mom. She must’ve walked in and caught them. Right?”

Trixie nodded in agreement, apparently anticipating a devastating conclusion to his story.

“Wrong. The wailing I hear is more pleasurable than painful. I round the corner and Brock’s dad is giving it to my mom while Rory’s dad is watching.”

“They were swingers,” Trixie said.

“Yes they were,” Mitch readily admitted. “And it fucked with all our heads for about three years.”