“Do you have a condom?” I whispered into his ear.
He pulled back from me with a grin, then leaned his torso over the side of my bed, finding his wallet inside his pants pocket on the floor. I watched him put on the condom, and a moment later, he steadied his naked body over mine. His eyes blazed down at me, and he pinned my wrist over my head. His lips came back down to mine, soft and warm, delicate and tender, and his other hand pulled me upward in one motion, as he sank deep inside me.
Like that time when we had sung together, we just fit. Our mouths, our limbs. We knew where to touch each other without knowing—and there was no unknowing this kind of pleasure.
I wasn’t someone who prayed often, just on High Holidays, but right there, with Garrett’s strong hold effortlessly rolling us over, I looked down at his grin, and I silently prayed. I prayed for the memory of this moment to hurt less than the what-if of it never having happened. I shifted back and forth on top of his body, his hand on my waist—back and forth, hard and soft, until pulses inside me clenched over his dick, heat moving up my throat and expelling a moan from the depth of my lungs. He rolled me back over and moved back and forth, faster and faster until he was saying my name into my ear, his hands clenched up in my hair, his body sinking onto mine, my chest collapsing against his.
Later that night, my fingers memorized his naked body as he slept tangled up in me. I felt tears prick my eyes, and staring at his sleeping calm face, I prayed once more. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to pine for this moment—that Garrett and I would do this again and again, forever and ever. All I wanted was everything. What’s so bad about that?
Let’s lie to ourselves like new lovers do
33
THIRTY-FIVE
ONCE I WALKED AWAY FROM Garrett at the engagement party, I broke down and called Summer. In between tears, I told her we had to leave immediately. She came and rescued me in front of the sprawling entrance to the stables. I cried the entire short drive back to her East Hampton home, while she patted my shoulder with wide eyes.
When we got to Summer’s house, after I sobbed in the shower, Summer and I curled up outside by the firepit in her backyard. I leaned back in the Adirondack chair with wet wavy hair, plucking my guitar, trying out a verse for the movie.
I watch you throw hope to the wolves
You shrug as they rip the dream of us apart
Why should our finale have a heart
Go ahead, burn me at the stake saying words better left unsaid
Until the ashes of our maybes become my bed
Summer gaped at me, alarmed, as the last line left my lips.
“Jesus Christ, Maggie.”
“What?”
“You’re make Elliott Smith seem fun.”
I scribbled the chords down alongside the lyrics in my songwriting notebook. “It’s for the All Is Lost moment in the movie,” I said.
“I thought you said this song was supposed to be hopeful.”
“It is. I just…I might be projecting, a little bit.”
“You think?” Summer grabbed the cup of melted ice at my feet, tossed it over her shoulder and refilled it with whisky. “Babe, Garrett’s a giant coward, and I refuse to let you sleep in the embers of his shitty spinelessness.”
“I know. I just— Ugh. I wish I hated him more than I do.”
Exasperated, I set my guitar down, happily trading my open hand for a full glass of whisky. The liquid burned going down my raw throat, in thanks to all the screaming I had directed at a mini pony.
An hour prior, I had exhausted all the rest of my tears into a piping-hot shower, washing unrequited love, horse, and barn off my swollen and bruised body. Garrett and I loved each other. And he was going to marry another woman. One plus one did not equal two. It would have been an easier death if our physical connection didn’t match our platonic one.
I stared into the hot flames, eager for them to burn me alive. Summer nudged me with her elbow.
“C’mon, you said all the things. You can’t have any regrets. He’s the one who is going to go forward with a lifetime of wondering, ‘What-if?’ Plus, it’s not all doom and gloom here. Let’s focus on the positive.”
“I now have a rational fear of miniature ponies?” I offered.
Summer stood up, extending her glass of whisky toward my puffy eyes. I stared back at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and lifted my whisky-clad hand up toward her.
“You, Maggie Vine, are about to make it. It’s your career’s turn to shine, and I won’t let some dude take that joy away from you. And the cherry on top of your career sundae: the hottest movie star on the fucking planet has every intention of ripping your clothes off. So, cheers.”
Summer took a sip and stared me down until I did the same.
“We don’t know that,” I said, coughing into my drink.
“We do, you little dipshit.”
Summer plopped her body back down on her chair, her smirk lit up by the moon. I looked down, seeing her phone brighten. She clicked on a text message, and a photo popped up on her screen: Valeria making a kissing face into the camera. Summer beamed, taking in the photo of the woman she loved. I shook my head at my best friend, jealous of how their union came together so effortlessly.
“What?” Summer asked, studying my expression.
“Nothing. It’s just…you found your person, and it works. You don’t have to turn the world upside down to be together. You don’t have to blow up your lives to exist. I’m such an idiot, Summer.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. I believed Garrett was my person for so long, even though I didn’t have one claim on him. It was idealistic and stupid, and I know that—yet, here I am, still crying over him. I took one look at that guy, and I believed in All The Things, and then life kept him from me the way I wanted him, which frankly, sucks. It sucks. You’re lucky. Your person is just your person, without all the suckage. I want that.”
“Mags, it’s not all roses and caviar.”
Summer turned her head away from me, examining the deer darting along the stretch of deep woods on the other side of her property. I leaned forward, trying to read her expression.
“What do you mean?”
Summer kept her eyes on the deer.
“I love my wife. She drives me wild in good and bad ways. I couldn’t love her more if I tried. But I don’t know if we’re going to make it.” Summer let the statement leave her mouth emotionlessly, so blankly that I was sure she was joking.
Her eyes floated back to mine, and all at once, her whole face appeared heavier. I scooted in closer to Summer, trying to read the newfound pain behind my best friend’s eyes.
“Summer, what’s going on?”
She looked away from me, studying her wedding ring.
“My wife wants children. And I don’t want children.”
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my chin from hitting the pavement.
“I thought…I thought you did,” I said gently and quietly. “I thought you guys were about to start the process?”
Summer etched her nails into the bottom of the crystal whisky glass in her hand.
“Me, too. But the last year I keep waiting to feel it, and…I haven’t.”
“Haven’t felt what?”