Connor leads me to the furthest wall from the girls. And I instantly understand what’s going on. He’s moving me away from Daisy so she can’t hear. Whatever Connor wants to tell me—it’s about Lily.
The worst thought crosses my mind.
She cheated.
She slept with some cashier at Bloomingdales.
She fucked another guy.
I feel the color drain from my face.
I feel my stomach roll in on itself.
My world slowly begins crashing down. I should have been with her. I try to move past Connor and reach the patio, wanting to talk to her, wanting to make this right, wanting to be alone again.
Connor steps in front of me once more and puts his hand on my shoulder. He reads the panic on my face, and says, “Nothing happened, not like that.” I don’t know Connor well enough to know what that entails and this just heightens my nerves.
“What did happen?” I ask quietly.
He stays resolute, calm, and for some strange reason it feeds into me. His casual attitude makes me believe it’s not that bad, and I wonder if this is a Connor Cobalt gift. To pacify people with his demeanor rather than words.
“Look,” he says easily, “Rose didn’t want to tell you, but I convinced her, I think.” He lets himself smile at the accomplishment. “She wants Lily to handle these things on her own. In a feminist’s perspective, I guess it seems like when you help Lily, you don’t give her a chance to be strong on her own.”
It feels like he knifed me, even though those are Rose’s words. “I’m not her fucking cure, I know that,” I say, trying to mimic Connor’s easy tone, but my voice comes out strained and edged. I’ve let Lily succeed on her own, but I am the person having sex with her. All I can do is tell her to stop, to guide her. She’s the one actively making the choice to ask me to have sex, to want to have sex, to give into cravings enough to let them control her thoughts. That’s on her.
“I know, and Lily will never be completely on her own. That’s what I told Rose. You’re sleeping with her, and sex addiction is a two-person recovery process. She sided with me on this one.” I think he keeps gloating to postpone the news.
“Connor. Just tell me.”
He nods. “I noticed that Lily can sometimes zone out,” he says, “and I actually thought she was just a little slow. But then I found out she was a sex addict, and I know fantasizing can be a huge issue with the addiction.”
I know where this is headed, and I shouldn’t be relieved. But a pressure lifts off my chest. “And?”
“And it was fine. She zoned out a couple times and Rose would reengage her with conversations. Then Rose had to try on practically every pair of heel in her size, and we both forgot about Lily…until we heard her.”
What? She wouldn’t masturbate in public. That’s beyond what she’s ever done. My chest starts to hurt again. “Heard her? Was she masturbating?”
“No,” Connor says quickly. “No. Not at all.”
Good.
“But we heard her orgasm.”
What? “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”
“There have been numerous studies about the female orgasm. It’s not fully understood, but many scientists have shown that it can be brought on by thought alone.”
She fantasized and had an orgasm. Out loud. In a fucking store. I know how embarrassed she must feel and it floods me, seizing my ability to even form words right now.
Connor takes my silence as an opportunity to keep speaking. “Rose made her call her therapist.”
I nod, but my feet are glued to the floor. I want to go outside and be with her, but Rose’s words…or Connor’s reiteration of them haunt me. I want Lily to be strong on her own. I can see her through the blinds, hiding in her body, and it doesn’t seem like she’s looking at the birds anymore.
She’s looking for a way out.
I turn to Connor, suddenly so relieved that he’s here. That I have someone that I can ask this, “Should I go out there?” I want someone to tell me what’s right. To put me on the correct path. I don’t want to keep making bad decisions.
“She needs you,” he tells me in a single breath. “Just don’t have sex with her. Easy enough, right?”
“Yeah, it’d probably be difficult on that chair,” I say, trying to smile, trying to lessen how much I empathize with her hurt.
“Not for you two.” He taps my shoulder, unfreezing me from my state and I find myself moving onward. Towards the door. Towards her.