He sat up with me. “We were young, stupid. We didn’t realize we were best friends for a reason.”
I sighed, remembering a relationship I had long ago blocked out. Steven was my friend before he was my lover. He was the first boy I met at the University of Texas at Austin. He was a year above me and took me under his wing. He had a girlfriend at the time and never made any inappropriate moves. We were merely good friends who evolved into best friends. Our relationship became a source of contention with his girlfriend, and when they broke up, we grew even closer.
We made the mistake of briefly taking our relationship to the next level my junior year. And it was wonderful—until he announced that he was heading to law school in DC. I had no desire for a long-distance relationship and decided that crossing the line of friendship had been a mistake. I don’t know if I really felt like that or if I just couldn’t bear the thought of my boyfriend being so far away. At the same time I’d met Greg—a first-year grad student—and he was constantly in my ear about the life that he could provide if only I gave him a chance.
I thought the grass would be greener. It was a decision I’d regretted ever since.
I wanted to ask Steven more questions, but I knew if we kept talking, Paula’s name would come up. And I couldn’t bear the thought of mentioning my best friend while I was lying here with her husband.
“Well, everything happens for a reason. We both have wonderful children,” he said.
That we did. My daughter, Liz, was my heart and joy. And I loved his daughter, my goddaughter, Tahiry, just as much.
I lay back down on his chest.
“You ever wonder what our kid would’ve looked like?” he asked after a few beats of silence.
I inhaled sharply. We hadn’t spoken about that since the day we left the women’s clinic. No one—not Paula, Greg, or even my sisters, who I was close to—knew that weeks after Steven announced he was leaving for law school, I found out I was pregnant. We had gone back and forth over what to do. I couldn’t bear the thought of Steven giving up his dream of law school to become a father. But before we could make a decision, I miscarried. The doctors couldn’t tell me why, just that “it happens.” I was heartbroken, especially after Steven said it “must’ve been God’s will.” We were never the same after that. That’s why when he told me Paula was pregnant, it was the biggest blow ever.
When I didn’t reply, Steven said, “You know, I’m sorry. Let’s not go down memory lane. It is what it is. We are playing the hand we’ve been dealt. Tonight, I just want to enjoy you.”
I inhaled his scent and snuggled closer. After a few minutes, I knew it was time to say what we’d been trying not to say all night. “You know this can never happen again,” I said, watching his face for his reaction.
He nodded. “I know.”
I didn’t know why, but that actually stung. He must’ve realized it because he quickly added, “I mean, trust me, I wanted it to happen, but we both know it was wrong. We both were in need, and so we found comfort in one another’s arms.” He pushed a stray curl out of my eye. “Don’t worry, there will be no secret rendezvous, no clandestine meetings. Tomorrow, we’ll pretend this never happened. Tomorrow, we’ll go back to our normal, boring, miserable lives. Tomorrow, it’ll be different. But tonight, I want to make you feel like the beautiful woman that you are.”
He leaned in and once again kissed me passionately. Within a few moments we fell back into what felt like the most natural of grooves.
7
Felise
THE SUNLIGHT PEEKED IN THE large bay window overlooking downtown Houston. The rays tickled me out of my sleep. I yawned, stretched, and remembered that my body felt like it hadn’t felt in years. I hated that this euphoria had to end.
I glanced over at Steven, who was still soundly sleeping. That man had been better than he was in college, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. He’d definitely gotten better with time. Our lovemaking had run the gamut, from slow and steady to raw, unadulterated passion. We’d finally collapsed, exhausted, around four a.m.
I eased out of bed and went to retrieve my purse, which was leaning on my pile of clothes on the floor, exactly where I’d left it when I entered the room last night. I dug my phone out and looked at it. Greg had called a dozen times, sent two dozen more apologetic texts. Seeing the texts made me feel incredibly guilty. The reality was, I’d cheated on my husband. Something I’d never done before. But making matters worse, I cheated with my best friend’s husband.