Page 74 of The All-Inclusive

Pulling apart, they smile at each other. Then Logan looks at me. “You good, Frogman?”

“Yeah.” I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m not sure it isn’t. “You?”

“I’m fucking amazing.” With his naughty Boy Scout smile, he leans in and kisses me. “That was unreal.”

“Yeah.” I sound like a broken record, but that’s all I can manage right now. Thoughts fill my head, a jumble of color and light and sensation. I need time to sort them all out.

Tucking herself in the crook of my arm, Sara snuggles against me. On the other side of her, Logan throws one long arm over her body. His hand comes to rest on my chest, and I stare at it. Nobody speaks as I stroke Sara’s hair and Logan’s hand rises and falls with my breath. The two of them might be asleep now. I’m not sure.

But I’m wide awake.

Lying here, breathing, thinking things through, I wait for the panic to hit me. For awareness to sink through my skull that I’ve just had sex with another man. With the woman I love and a guy I just met.

Holy shit. That just happened.

I replay the scene, spinning each painstaking detail through my head. Logan’s touch, Sara’s sweet cries. The feel of him filling my mouth. I brace for self-hatred and shame. For the familiar blast of guilt and dread and regret.

But none of that comes. What I feel most is…contentment?

That can’t be right. Maybe I’m numb. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Surely the shame will set in at some point. I wait for the sour taste on the back of my tongue. For the ring of my dad’s voice saying I’m going to hell.

The only male voice in my head is Logan’s. It might be his hand on my chest, or his words in the back of my head.

That was unreal.

It was. And maybe that’s what’s going on here. This isn’t the real world, so I don’t feelrealpanic. As long as we’re here in this place without shame, we can exist in some parallel universe.

I watch Logan’s hand, splayed on my chest as it moves up anddown with my breath. That looks pretty damn real. As I stare at his hand, I wait for the self-doubt to come.

I’m still waiting as I drift off to sleep, so fucking content I don’t know who I am anymore.

I’m alonein my suite, sending a payment to our former wedding florist, when the phone rings.

The screen readsMomandI’m flooded with the same sensation that ran through me each time she called when I stayed out past curfew doing something I shouldn’t.

Having a threesome feels so much more scandalous than sneaking cigarettes with Beck under the high school bleachers. It takes me a few rings to answer.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Trent, sweetie—howareyou?”

“I’m good.” I glance out the window and try to recall where I told her I’d be now. The fact that she’s calling means I must not have said I’m deployed overseas. “Just—uh—working hard.”

“That’s great, honey.” She sounds distracted and shaky and my senses shift to high alert. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” What’s going on here?

Something bangs in the background as Mom speaks again. “I hate to bother you, but I wanted to let you know your father’s in town for a few weeks.”

“He is?”Shit.“What’s he doing there?”

“He somehow got wind of your wedding.” Mom lowers her voice and I hear a dull thump and some cursing. “I didn’t tell him yet that it’s been cancelled. I don’t think he’ll take it well, and um…well, I’m holding out hope you’ll change your mind.”

Goddammit.

“Mom—” Whatever I’m ready to say gets cut off by the boomof my father’s voice. He’s cursing and muttering something about cold feet.

Then his voice fills my ear.

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