Stitches

“He just needs to feel secure in your affection. It’s too soon to know whether or not he can hack it, but he needs to feel your love. That’s the only way this stands any chance of working. If he feels like you’re ready to quit on him, he’ll feel insecure all the time. It’ll all feed into inevitable failure. It’s all right if this fails, we can’t force it to work, but I don’t want it to fail because you’re worried about hurting my feelings. I don’t want you to withhold from him to appease me. I don’t need you to do that.”

Still tentative, she asks, “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, but let go. Open up. Give it a real chance. Our love is secure. You and me are forever. Nothing can touch us. Loving Griff does not mean you love me any less. You’re doing all this for me. You’ve got a big heart with plenty of room for both of us. Griff has plenty of good qualities. He’s loyal as hell; he just needs to know he’s got two feet on solid ground. We were both taught we had to look out for ourselves first, no one else was going to, so that’s what he’s doing right now. He needs to know he’s safe with us. He needs to know we’re not going to quit on him. As much as we can, we both need to commit to this. We can’t get a read on whether or not it will work if we’re half-assing it.”

“But what if he tries to…?”

I shake my head. “Can’t think that way. He’ll feel it. Suspicion doesn’t feel like love. He needs to feel your love. Let yourself fall for him, if you can.”

She misses a step, then looks up at me warily. “You want me to fall in love with him? Like… the way I’m in love with you?”

“Sure,” I say, nodding. “Wouldn’t that be most enjoyable for everybody?”

“Not for you,” she objects, frowning.

I love my wife, but sometimes it’s tedious trying to explain shit like this to people. “It is best for me because that’s how we’re all happy. Being in love with him doesn’t mean you’re not in love with me anymore. You don’t have to choose. You get both of us, so why not fall in love with each of us? Enjoy us both as much as you can. We each have different things to offer separately, and we’ll have the best dynamic together if you have deep, legitimate feelings for both of us, not just me. Only being in love with me will breed resentment.”

She doesn’t answer. I give her a minute to process, but she still doesn’t respond.

“I know I’m asking a lot of you,” I tell her.

“It’s just scary,” she says. “I never expected to do any of this again. I have you.”

I stop walking, so she does, too. I pull her in front of me, grabbing her hips and pulling her against me. She tilts her head back, her big blue eyes clouded over with conflict. I hate that. I know it’s my fault. This wasn’t her idea, it was mine. Because of my needs, she’s already had to completely change her lifestyle. Now I’m asking her to take on a full-fledged relationship, with all the complexities that entails, alongside ours. Her body may like when we’re both paying attention to her, when we fuck her together and double up her pleasure, but this isn’t just pleasurable—it’s work. It’s a risk. It’s investing her own feelings in something that just might not work. I’m asking her to open herself up to heartache to keep someone around for me—and since she was brought up traditionally, this goes against her idea of normal to begin with. Moira’s a little survivor so she adapts, but I don’t think she realized this would be as complicated as it is. Letting Griff fuck her is easy. I almost wish he just needed to fuck her, because that’s not risky. That could be uncomplicated fun, teaming up with my best friend to overload my wife with pleasure, using her together—I like all that. That’s fucking fun.

Feelings are a lot less fun.

I’ve always known that myself, and now I’m foisting all the hard work off on Moira.

I’d shoulder it for her if I could, but Griff doesn’t need me. He needs her.

15

Moira

It’s late when we get home. I figured Griff might not be here since he knew Sebastian and I went out tonight. I thought maybe he’d go back to his own house and give us a night alone, but when we walk in the bedroom, he’s on the left side of our bed.

I feel so many things—reluctance and concern, affection and sorrow. I want to feel more of the good feelings like Sebastian wants, but I can’t help worrying that my husband is wrong. I’m so deeply and profoundly attached to Sebastian. I know I managed to live many years without him, but to be honest, I’m not sure how anymore. When I met Sebastian, it was like waking up one day and realizing you’ve been living your life as half a person. For every weakness I have, he has strength. For every pocket of uncertainty, he knows what to do. For every doubt that’s ever crawled through my mind, Sebastian has confidence. It was literally as if I had spent my whole life waiting for this partner—someone carved out to fit me.

We were perfect together. Nauseatingly perfect, if you ask anyone who knows us.

When he needed me to add one more person to our family so he could keep him, I agreed. I have been abundantly cooperative.

But I guess Sebastian is right. I’ve opened my legs, but not my heart. In my heart, I’ve kept Griff firmly in a friend box.

I’ve been managing Griff, not opening up to him. I wanted him to open up to me, but I’ve held stuff back. I haven’t stopped him when I felt him being competitive with Sebastian and told him it was a problem and that I wanted him to stop.

I need to let him burrow deeper. I need to treat that relationship with all the care and investment I would a singular relationship if I didn’t already have my other half.

I don’t know how all this works. I’m not sure it’s going to go the way Sebastian expects it to, but I won’t question my husband. The only way to see if he’s right is to do as he says. If he’s wrong and Griff becomes a problem, we’ll deal with it. If it’s too late and I’ve already developed deeper feelings for him, I’ll deal with the heartache.

As long as I have Sebastian, everything will ultimately be fine.

Griff is in bed, but he’s awake and looking up at the screen of his phone. When we come in, he leans over and puts it on his bedside table, plugging it into the charger.

“Hey. Hope it’s okay I’m here.”

Sebastian doesn’t respond immediately. I get the impression he’s waiting for me to say something, but all the words stick in my mouth. Finally, Sebastian recovers with an easy, “Of course, Griff. You’re always welcome here.”