Page 108 of Love is a Game

I squirmed, fluttered a look at Susan. “Er, no. It’s always…hot.”

“Is Tuck an asshole? Only good for sex, not a relationship?”

Another squirm. “No. He’snotactually an asshole.”

“Do you ever have sex in private, or does that ruin the thrill?”

I swallowed. “Um—refer to my first answer?”

“Ever done it in a hearse? Or is that just Violet’s kink?”

A beat of silence. Then: “…does a funeral home count?”

“Oh my god—you didn’t!” Susan groaned, dropping her head into her palm. “I thought I raised Tuck with some level of decorum.”

Raquel gasped, delighted. “Tuck is your son?” She turned on Susan. “Oh, this is great! So tell us—what’s your take? Did you know about them playinghide-the-eggplant in the taco?”

And that was it. The moment I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

I thought about slipping under the water, letting the warmth swallow me whole, sinking to the bottom of the pool—anything to escape the unbearable weight of exposure.

For years, I had convinced myself I had control. That this thing with Tuck was just an indulgence, a casual escape, a game we played on the sidelines of our real lives. That I wasn’t tangled up in it, in him.

But now I had outed myself to all those women. As a fraud. Someone who can only keep a long-term relationship when it’s kept apart from reality…where Tuck never sees the gaps in my defenses. All my weaknesses.

Thank god for Susan and Nora. Whether they were saving me or protecting Tuck, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. Diplomatic and strategic, playing the long game.

“My goodness! Is anyone else turning into a prune?” Susan asked, inspecting her hands with a dramatic sigh.

“Absolutely! And I’m not in the market for more damn wrinkles,” Nora chimed in. “It’s my turn, so let’s wrap this up, put some clothes on, and get to the deck bar.”

Whistle blown. Move along.

And then—cocktails all around. Round after round. A convenient blur of laughter, of clinking glasses, of pretending I could let it go.

But had I?

What else had I blurted out in that haze of forced release? Of alcohol conveniently covering my ever-present insecurities?

Nope. It goes beyond justinsecurity. Everyone feels insecure at times. Okay, so maybe not Raquel.

But my issues are part of the fabric of who I am, not something that can be shrugged off with a new look, healthy lifestyle, or a mindfulness class.

And I tried to fit in with them. Tried to match the lighthearted mood they carried so effortlessly.

Because that’s what normal women do, right?

Normal women with their normal relationships. Who can talk openly about the men they see, who don’t feel the need to hide the most broken, unlovable parts of themselves.

They don’t keep secrets out of necessity. They don’t spend their lives waiting for the people they care about to realize what a mistake they’ve made.

My weaknesses aren’t just flaws to be fixed. They’re stitched into my soul.

Theyarewho I am.

And…if Tuck hasn’t realized that yet, he will.

I finally find the momentum to leave the shower, but it feels like wading through molasses.

---