Stitches

Gwen spends a few minutes gathering up all her baby paraphernalia and saying her goodbyes. To be honest, I just want everyone out of my house so I can spend an evening with my wife. Since I’ve let Griff join us, I haven’t had Moira to myself at all. I like having him around; it reminds me of how things were between us before I met Moira, when Griff and I lived together. But we do need time together alone, too.

Once Gwen leaves, Moira tells me she hasn’t started dinner yet because she’s been visiting with her sister and her niece.

“You don’t have to,” I tell her, snaking an arm around her waist and tugging her against me, chest to chest.

Her blue eyes twinkle at me. “I don’t?”

“We’re going out to dinner tonight.”

“Just the two of us?”

I glance past her at Griff, scrolling through something on his phone with a scowl on his face. “You okay over there?”

He looks up, annoyance brushed liberally across his features. “Fantastic.”

“Problem?”

“Lawyer bullshit. I’m never getting married again.”

I smile faintly. “Well, yeah, bigamy’s illegal, so at least until I’m dead, that’s off the table. Ashley pulling some shit?”

Moira turns back to look at him. “Since you met with her?”

My eyebrows rise at this new nugget of information. “Since you what?”

“Don’t worry about it; I’ve got it under control. I’ll straighten this shit out tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna need details on that, but not right now. Are you cool on your own tonight?” I ask Griff. “I’m gonna take Moira out.”

He glances between us, then nods his head. “Sure. Go have fun.”

I watch him for a moment. He still seems agitated, but I don’t know if it’s because of Ashley or because I want Moira to myself for a little bit. She insists she needs a shower before we go out, so I tell her to make it quick and hang back with Griff.

It’s been a busy week. Apparently I haven’t kept a good enough eye on everything—got Griff out meeting his whore ex-wife, Moira yearning for babies, my time with my wife cut down to unacceptable levels. I figured there would be an adjustment period. Personally, I hoped we could skip over all that shit, but I knew it was unlikely. I’ve been nothing but hospitable. I’ve done everything I could to make this easy on both of them.

They’re both feelers, though, and feelers are a pai

n in the ass when things need to change. Giff’s also a little more possessive than is ideal for this situation. I figure we should be able to get past it since Moira is mine in the first place, and if he wants her, that’s the only way he gets her.

Thing is, I’m not sure if he really wants her, or he just wants what’s mine. There could be some covertly competitive bullshit going on here. It may not be about her. It could be about me. If it is, he’s not going to be satisfied no matter how fair we are. If it is, this isn’t going to work. I’ll share Moira with him, but if he starts to try to horn in and push me out, I’ll knock the motherfucker right back out.

It’s probably not that. I tell myself it’s not that, because I don’t want it to be that. I want this to work. I want everyone I love to be happy and satisfied under my roof. No one making dramatic exits, no one hurting and torn apart by jealousy—all of us happy. My wife is capable of pulling it off. If Griff is here for the right reasons, we’ll all be fine.

“What’s up your ass today?” I ask him, while I wait for Moira to come back down.

“I don’t want to tell you. You’re a big enough pain in my ass when you’re not telling me how right you are about everything.”

I shrug, unable to summon even a hint of remorse. “Use your brain more often and you’ll be right, too. What’d you do this time?”

“I met Ashley for lunch. Tried to, anyhow. She pissed me off and I left before we had a chance to order.”

A faint smile tugs at my mouth. “That sounds right.”

“So she ran to her lawyer. Now she’s requesting fucking court-ordered couples counseling.”

A little bark of laughter shoots out of me. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish. I need to call Carrie and tell her this is bullshit.”