KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (39 page)

“How are you feeling?” she asked as we rode in the car to the restaurant. There was no way in hot lava hell I was driving that night—I knew my limits—so I’d hired a car service. I wasn’t sure how the night was going to unfold, but I knew I’d be drinking.

We were meeting Simone, the woman who was joining us later, for an early dinner and drinks.

I studied our hands, she was holding my right hand in both of hers as she sat close to my side in the leather back seat. Legs crossed toward me. Shoes bearing sky-high heels.

How was I?

I was nervous. Excited. Eager to show her how serious I was about giving her what she needed, even if that meant doing something that stretched my world.

“I’m interested,” I replied.

She considered my answer, a speculative quirk in her perfect brow.

“Interested,” she repeated. “Care to explain?”

“Nothing to explain really. The more I know about you, the more I want to know. I’m always interested in learning something new.” My hand ran up her thigh, and I lowered my voice so that only she could hear. “I’m interested in watching you enjoy yourself. I’m interested in getting some point of reference for your penchants. I’m interested in
you
.”

She tipped her head and puckered her lips, then waited for me to kiss them.

“So, how do you feel?”

In my mind, together we were supreme. This could give me insight into what she thought I lacked—what was missing when it was only us. Because I couldn’t for the life of me comprehend what it was.

I realized it wasn’t about that for poly people; I’d read the books. Yet, there was something fundamentally true, almost instinctual, about how I felt. I knew—at least in our case—she was looking for something by being with multiple partners. Or maybe she was hiding from something, but the more time I spent with her, the more obvious it became.

I was very fucking interested in possibly finding clues as to what
that
was.

I kissed her lips lightly, half caring I’d have candy apple lipstick on my mouth, half not.

We pulled up to the curb before she could answer, but before the driver opened her door, she said, “Thank you for this. It means a lot to me.”

At least we were on the same page.

When we arrived, Simone was already there waiting for us at the bar. Clearly, I liked that. We were a little early, so our table wasn’t available yet, and Nora led me to her.

“Simone,” Nora said as we stepped to her stool. She turned, I recognized her face from the picture. Almond shaped, some subtle Asian features. Long dark hair. Thin like Nora, but shorter.

Where Nora was svelte, she was just skinny. She didn’t have the air about her that Nora had, but she was a beautiful woman.

She leaned up to kiss Nora on the cheek first, then she stood to kiss mine. Touching the arm of my coat she pitched forward, but only made the motion of kissing my cheek, never making contact.

I didn’t want
her
lipstick on me, so I appreciated that.

“It’s nice to meet you, Reagan.”

My name didn’t sound the same from her lips. All of these things I noticed and compared how they made me feel against how I responded to Nora.

Turns out, love makes me bias.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” I said. “You can call me Reggie.” I didn’t much care, and strangely it made her more of an acquaintance to me.

Nora swallowed, then said, “You’re early.”

“I know. I thought I’d get a few drinks in me first. It’s been a while.” Then, her eyebrows lifted as she tipped back the last of her cocktail. She surveyed us as I lifted my hand to the barman.

“You two are a beautiful couple,” she claimed.

Nora clung to my side, her head briefly leaning on my shoulder when she said, “Thank you.”

She gave her a work smile.

I already felt like I was ahead, not that it was a game, but wasn’t it? It was like chess. Her move, my move. Work smile. Checkmate.

I silently questioned Simone about what she was drinking by nodding at her glass.

“Perfect vodka martini,” she answered.

I glanced at Nora to see what she’d have, and her eyebrow rose as she said, “I’ll have that, too.”

When in Rome.

“Three perfect vodka martinis, please,” I requested with the bartender.

Nora didn’t let go of me until we were seated. I noticed this was different than a typical night out.

Martinis came and went down casually as we talked and waited for our meal. Nora and Simone had many friends in common, so mostly I listened.

“I didn’t even realize you were in Chicago until Janel told me,” Simone said. “Had
I
known, I would have called
you
.” She smiled.

“Yes, for now. I leave for Zurich next week.”

“And I’m headed back to Minneapolis tomorrow,” Simone added. “So at least we didn’t totally miss each other, and thank you for inviting me tonight.”

As we ate, conversation turned to jobs and trips taken. I felt comfortable, but Nora didn’t relax. Her posture never eased, her voice never regulated to the tone I was most familiar with.

“Reggie, I must say, I was surprised when Nora said you’d never done this before.” She was being coy, but discreet.

I chose to take that in a way that didn’t offend me.

I know plenty. Nora is satisfied.

“Only a fool thinks he knows everything,” I said and gave Nora a smile as I tipped back the last of my savory cocktail.

“You didn’t warn me about him, Nora,” she giggled. “He’s quite the alpha male, isn’t he?”

Some people don’t appreciate conversation about themselves when they’re present, but I didn’t mind it at the moment. I wanted to hear Nora’s response.

We locked eyes and she tipped her head, “Oh, I don’t know. He’s very insightful. He thinks a lot. Broods even. Sometimes I wonder what he’s plotting against me.” Then, her head tilted in the other direction, and she added, “Other times, he’s charming and
slightly
funny.” She gifted my view a grin designed for me. “He’s challenging but genuinely kind. However, he redefines possessive for me.”

It felt like a tease, not the joking kind. The carrot in front of the rabbit kind.

I wasn’t a bunny.

“For some, possessiveness is interpretational. For some, only a perspective. For me, it’s fundamental. If I want something—
someone
—I go after it. Flexibility is something I’ve learned to be a very useful tool when trying to acquire new things. Take you, for example,” I said. “Sometimes changes, adjustments, have to be made to gain. I like knowing what you need so that I can qualify myself in giving it to you.”

I took the leather folder in hand and slipped my credit card into it next to the bill, catching a look at Simone. She was flushed, looking between Nora and me. With her elbow perched on the table, she stroked her neck.

We found silence, and it followed us to the car. We rode back to the Lunar with Simone, Nora in the middle holding my hand like she was afraid to let me go.

Nora—Friday, November 21, 2008

I
held tight to his hand in the car, thinking how shameful it was of me to tell her the wrong time by thirty minutes, but she’d been there early anyway.

Thanks, karma.

I wasn’t sure why I’d done it anyway. Regardless, there was no real harm done.

Inside my apartment, I went to the kitchen as Simone looked around, finding my perfume collection.

“Can I help you with anything?” Reagan asked me as I pulled three martini glasses from my bar rack and began looking for my shaker.

“No, thank you, but I think a few more drinks would be nice.” I definitely needed another. Maybe two.

I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. This was something
I
wanted.

Wasn’t it?

Simone had been chatty and damn near vulgar when we’d had dinner. I didn’t expect for her to be so different. After Reagan—
Reggie
, my fickle mind reminded me—said what he had at dinner, she’d changed almost completely.

Being timid and nearly meek. Not saying much, but I noticed the glances. The blinking. The way she subtly petted her skin.

She was trying to seduce him, in ways I never had.

My brain fired all of these conflicting things at me. The ice and steal rattled obnoxiously, as I shook vermouth and vodka and watched her inspect my collection.

My precious things. Don’t touch.

He watched me, then turned in the bar stool to see what had my attention.

Had this been a mistake?

I felt shook up, like oil and water my thoughts fought for buoyancy.

This is who you are, Nora. This is what you know.

Maybe showing him this side of me would make him regret being with me, maybe he’d get wise and realize that eventually, I’d lose interest.

Just like my mother did. Just like I had in the past. He’d finally learn that I wasn’t good for him, or what he wanted. I’d never be able to really give him what
he
needed. That I wasn’t capable of promising him forever, not without lying anyway.

The thought that conflicted me most was: what if he likes it?

I felt a cold sweat break across my shoulders and my pulse nearly burst through my veins.

I guessed we’d soon find out.

I had been reluctant to leave for Switzerland, especially after this morning, but it was becoming clear to me leaving on this note would give us some time to think. Breathing room. Reflection.

I finished concocting the trio of drinks, garnishing them with olives, and lifted the fullest to my lips. I watched Simone’s eyes meet Reagan’s and then she slowly walked our way. Her hips swaying, arms loose at her sides.

She stood next to Reagan near the end of the bar and faced away from me. Her arm slid up his coat jacket, and he bristled at her touch, then he looked at me.

Was it permission he wanted?

This was my world though, and even I knew it. He’d take his cues from me. I’d gotten us there, now I had to go through with it.

I couldn’t see her mouth move, but I heard her quiet words as she attempted to sound shy.

Wouldn’t he love that?

“I’m your guest for the night, but you’re in control.”

My stomach rolled, and I cringed, recovering quickly when his eyes met mine again. This time, I saw a hunger come alive inside of them.

Maybe he’d get more out of this than I would.

She went on. “If at any time you want me to stop, just tap my arm like this.” Her manicured hand rapping gently against his left shoulder. Still, I couldn’t see her face, but he stood, getting closer to her.

He looked pained and torn, warring with what was the right thing to do. I’d put him in this situation. I caused the stress in his brow.

It was my responsibility to satiate his nerves. I needed to snap out of my head and walk him through this.

He was doing it for me.

I gave him a half smile, the one that lit him up.

Smiles couldn’t be lies, could they?

Nevertheless, that appeased him, and he stepped closer to her but held eye contact with me over the bar.

I drank.

She ran the back of her hand over his cheek. Her shoulder leaned into him, like she was reaching for his cock, but it was out of my vision, hidden behind the god-forsaken counter.

He placed a hand on the marble, bracing himself.

I picked up the second martini, having drank mine gone. I slid my hand over his and willed myself to put my feelings away.

This was something new for me. I thought, even newer than it was for him. I’d never been invested in a lover like I was with Reagan.

I begged that voyeur part of me to come alive and enjoy herself. Surely, watching him would put all my experiences to shame. He was a true artisan, a master of the flesh.

I gently rubbed his hand as she leaned into him, her mouth connecting with his neck.

When she moaned over my favorite spot, the masculine lump in his throat, I almost cried for mercy.

His coffee eyes looked at my lips. Even though only our hands were linked, I felt him there, and my tongue swept out to wet them.

Then, I tipped the drink again, nearly taking it down in one long swig. It felt like I’d swallowed acid, but I knew it would save me. I prayed the liquor would cloud my memories of that night because watching it live was already torment enough.