Page 5 of Midnight and Mine

I wish Scott were here. He would know the right thing to say. I’ve always been the funny one, and Scott’s the responsible, empathetic one.

We’ve endured several tragedies in our young lives like when my best friend Jessica’s boyfriend died. We were overwhelmed with pain and now, I do know how to be a good friend, but Scott is quintessentially better in these situations.

I tilt my head up to look at him, and he leans his forehead down to mine. It feels awkward, but I don’t know how to react.

“I feel so… alone.”

Whispering back, I say, “They’re still your parents. Plus, you have me and…”

Before I can get the word Scott out of my mouth, his mouth drops, and the plump flesh of his lips presses against mine. It’s soft and gentle.

And wrong.

I push him away, touching my lips.

Stepping backward, he says, “God. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

I cross my arms over my baby bump, unable to process what just happened and how I’m going to tell Scott or if I should tell him. My heart feels like it’s dropped from the world’s tallest building, and I feel sick.

He’s just hurting, right?

“No, I’m not going to lie anymore. Whatever happens, happens. I won’t live a lie like my parents. Wynter, I’ve been crushing on you since fifth grade, when you wore that striped halter top to poker night. God, I’m such a jerk. You’re my best friend’s wife.”

I look down at the floor, swiping my foot over the dark-mahogany hardwood. My voice is barely audible because I never think about what I want to say… I'll just say it. “You’re confused. And you’re one of my best friends too. You’re hurting and need someone, but Drake… I love my husband, and nothing will ever change that.”

Unable to look him in the eyes, I lift my chin and say, “Umm, I have to take some photos.”

Scott told me years ago that he thought Drake had a thing for me, but I waved him off like a referee waving off a basket. Nerves prick through my body and not in a good way.

Nausea rolls in my stomach.

Why didn’t I leave earlier to take photos? If I did, then none of this would have happened.

Then I recall the incredible sex I just had with my man.

“I need to go.” I walk into the office, unzipping my camera bag to check the batteries, then I swing it over my shoulder and inhale.

“Wynter,” Drake says in a low and brittle voice as his fingers skim my hand.

“Thanks for the sandwich.” I slink by him, reaching across the kitchen island for my purse, discouraged and desperate for some fresh air. Clicking the remote, I unlock my Toyota Highlander and head straight for it. I can’t look at Drake.

As I back out of the driveway, Drake leans against the stone column on the front porch. His head, hanging low. If he had worked nightshift at the distillery, he wouldn’t have been stopping by the house.

I shouldn’t feel guilty but for some reason, I do. I didn’t lean into the kiss or melt in his arms, but I froze when his lips touched mine. There was a split second—a brief, hanging breath—before reality slammed into me, and I pushed him away.

Am I a terrible wife?

It’s the first time my lips have touched another man in five years. As gentle as it was, it did nothing for me. Not one thought of wanting more. My knees didn’t wobble, proving I love my husband more than anything in the world, because believe me, Drake is one beautiful man.

Before I realize it, I’ve stopped at Love Lock Bridge, The French Kiss, and the gazebo to take photos. Then I drive out of town, heading to the gorge to get my photos of the Blue Mountain Gorge at sunset. I roll down the windows and let the sweet Kentucky air shred my hair. When I reach a spot to park, I type out a message to Scott.

Hope the surgery goes well. I love you. There’s something I need to talk about when you get home. And since you’re in Lexington and are going to pass Bojangles, I wouldn’t be mad if you brought me a chicken biscuit for my midnight snack. You’re the best man I could ever ask for. So glad you waited on me to figure it out.

I read it before I hit send, not wanting him to think something is wrong. Scott said he would be home late so he’s probably still in surgery.

Drake’s kiss invades every part of my brain as I hike through the trail toward the most picturesque spot of the gorge. Once when we were in high school, Scott, Jessica, Mark, Vanessa and Beau and I hiked to this exact spot. It was hard to reach, but I remember Scott saying, “Let’s interlock our arms like the Barrel of Monkeys so no one slips as we go down.”

I scoot my butt onto a smooth boulder about six feet wide, removing my camera and lenses from the case. Nomatter what I do, I can’t concentrate. Finally, I pick the wide-angle lens. My intention was to photograph the forest, and the river, capturing the colorful shadows at sunset. But right now, I need to get lost in the horizon.

---