Page 51 of Rebound

“Even then. You’ll still be beautiful. You’ll just have a little more… patina.”

Her smile is breathtaking, and I am completely helpless before it. “Patina,” she says, turning the concept over. “Like the Statue of Liberty. Works for me. Speaking of precious things that show their age… Did I tell you that Granny Lucille is a lesbian?”

I spit out my wine, and she laughs as I dab at my beard with my napkin. “Did you deliberately tell me that after I took a sip?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t have been funny otherwise. But it is true. She has a girlfriend named Vivienne.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I want to run with that image.” I’m fond of Granny Lucille, but as a general rule, I try to avoid thinking about the sex life of octogenarians. “What does she think, about… everything?”

The waiter arrives with our food, and she gives him the big eyes and the hint-of-the-South honey as she thanks him. Unsurprisingly, he trips over his own feet when he turns to leave.

“Well, she doesn’t know about Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I didn’t think she needed to know how hot you look in a fireman’s outfit.” Her pupils dilate at the memory of our last little session in our Greenwich hotel.

“I’m surprisedyouknow how hot I look in a fireman’s outfit. I only had it on for thirty seconds.”

“What can I say? Sometimes a girl needs a hero. A naked one. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

The time we’ve spent together since she got back from Charleston has been so far beyond fun—it has been some of the best, happiest moments of my life. Which makes me seriously question why we spent so many years living in hell.

I almost jump out of my skin when her toes skim my inner thigh and gently land on my groin. Her smiles turns wicked as she lightly rubs my dick. “Do you walk around like this all the time, or am I special?”

I reach under the table and firmly remove her foot. I can’t return the favor from this angle, but I will get my revenge at some point. And she’ll enjoy every second of it.

“You are most definitely special. My cock is always ready for you, baby. We’re sitting here in this pretty little place, pretending to be civilized, but all I can think about is being balls-deep in your tight, wet cunt.”

I’m keeping my voice low, but the dirty talk has the desired effect. She flushes bright red and bites her pillowy lip. I know she’s wet right now, and I wish I could crawl under this table and taste her. Bury my tongue in her pussy and lick her until she comes all over my face.

We stare at each other, and then we both laugh at the same time. “This whole being out in public thing is a challenge,” she says. “Maybe we’re more of a behind-closed-doors couple.”

“Maybe we are.” I wonder if she noticed that she called us a couple. Her hand trembles slightly as she forks up a bite of salad, so I assume she did. I take pity on her. “How’s Brooklyn? And when do you have your interview at the community center?”

She grabs hold of the offered way out and fills me in on life in Amelia’s old neighborhood. She talks with real enthusiasm about the food, the bars, the sense of being somewhere real. As she chats, her hands fly and her eyes sparkle. Brooklyn has ignited something inside her, and I am gripped by unreasonable jealousy. She knows my world, every inch of it, but she’s moved into a whole new one that doesn’t involve me. I don’t know if she picks up on my irrational jealousy, but she pauses. “You could, I don’t know, come and visit? I mean, if you want to.”

We’re on uneven ground here. This whole situation is already completely cracked—having an affair with the partner you’re currently divorcing is strange enough. But at least we both know what it is. It’s fantasy. It’s our way of finding closure on a relationship that has held us both in its thrall for over two decades. But visiting her in Brooklyn? Seeing her new world? I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.

“Maybe I will,” I say simply, making no commitment but also not rejecting her. She nods, and the moment passes. She probably regretted the invitation the second it passed her lips anyway.

“The community center interview is the day after tomorrow.” She quickly moves on. “It’s taken forever because they had to run all kinds of checks, make sure I’m not a hardened criminal or anything. In the meantime, I’ve been watching dance class videos on YouTube, and I think I might be able to do it. It doesn’t need to be ballet or anything that structured. It’s more about having fun and inspiring them. It’ll be different from anything I’ve ever done before, but… that’s a good thing. That’s what I want.” Her voice gets quieter, and her intoxicating gaze locks on my face. “Am I crazy?”

“Definitely. But of course you can do it. I don’t doubt it for a second.”

After doing my own research and talking with Vicky about it, I still have my concerns, but it’s clearly a well-respected organization, run by a former nun. If she ends up volunteering there, I’ll definitely be paying it a visit myself.

Changing the subject, she asks me about work, and I fill her in on the South Korean deal. She asks all the right questions and even makes a few suggestions. Amber has a shrewd mind for business, and she played the role of corporate wife exceptionally well. Whenever we had to entertain guests or take visiting dignitaries out on the town, she knocked it out of the park. Together, we put on a fantastic show. It was only when we were alone the barbs started to fly and the claws came out.

We move on to Luke, and I show her the pictures I took this evening. He’s holding on to the couch and standing on wobbly legs, a slobbery grin on his face. “Oh my, look at those thighs,” she enthuses, scrolling through. “I love those rolls of fat. He’s scrumptious, isn’t he?” Her tone is pure joy, no hint of sarcasm, sadness, or underlying snark.

Once we’re finished with our drinks and our food, we emerge into the chilly night air. She brought a big faux-fur coat with her, and it looks sensational, even with her casual outfit. Her hand slips into mine as we stroll along the riverside, and I grasp her cold fingers. We walk, talking about everything and nothing, and it is simple and joyous. I can’t remember a time we were so at peace with each other.

“You ready for your surprise?” I ask her. She gazes up at me contentedly, and it’s clear that she feels the same.

“Always,” she replies, leaning up to kiss me. “As long as it’s a pony.”

Damn. Why didn’t I think of that?

ChapterTwenty-Three

ELIJAH

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