Cruel Lover

“Oh, God…”

“I don’t think I can wait, angel. I don’t think you can either. Let’s blow this whole thing off, nobody will notice.”

“We’re the bride and groom. I think people will notice.”

My dad is looking proud and happy, walking back to the table with another plate full from the kitchens. It’s his second, but I’m pleased to see him so content. He’s attending meetings to discuss his gambling habit and keep him on the straight and narrow, and his congregation have given him every support. And that’s what he needed, to know that we’re all here for him.

As for him and Oz, their relationship isn’t quite where I’d like it to be, but there’s little outright animosity.

Which is good, I think as I rub my belly, just starting to show a little bit of roundness, because I want both of them in my life when this one is born.

Oz’s hand moves between my legs and I let out a little moan as I wriggle on the seat.

Well, two can play that game.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as I cup his bulge with my hand, and the sound of his needy voice sends me off. I draw a deep, shaky breath.

OK, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I don’t think anyone has noticed but still…

Rebecca turns her head and winks at me, and I feel my face go red. She’ll be asking all about it when we get back from our honeymoon, and she’ll want details. And I’m going to have to either answer or sit there getting more and more embarrassed.

“Stop!” I say, grabbing Oz’s hand and moving it back to his own lap. If he wants to masturbate with all our friends here, let him, but I am not going to sit here moaning and squirming. “Eat.”

He looks down at his plate, food untouched, and shakes his head. “None of this is what I want to eat. There’s something much sweeter and I can smell it already.”

I giggle, trying my hardest not to relent.

The ceremony was beautiful. Oz paid for the whole thing, and when I asked where the money was coming from he wouldn’t tell me. Just that business is going better than expected. That’s his classic car business—buying, selling and repairing for enthusiasts. He’s rented a little workshop and spends a few hours a day there with Roxie watching him in that way she does. I guess we’ll see where things go, but I know we’ll be OK. We’ve already been through so much, and I don’t mind putting in a few more hours if I need to.

As for Brian, Rebecca and I went with him and he told the cops everything he knew, which wasn’t a lot, but enough to start making some plea bargains. They wanted people higher up than him to take the brunt of the punishment. We managed to get his jail time down to eleven months, along with being disbarred from legal practice. I’m not sure what he’ll do when he gets out, but I do know he’s happier than he’s been in a long time. A clean slate, he’s said to me, and maybe that clean slate includes someone to take care of him. I’ve seen the way the prison doctor looks at him, and I’ve seen the way Brian looks back. Nothing can happen while he’s an inmate, but afterwards, who knows? I don’t bear him any ill will, and if there’s a man that can help him get back on his feet I wish him all the luck in the world.

“This is taking too long,” Oz says as my father sits back down beside us.

I laugh. But he’s right. It is taking too long, and the food really isn’t good enough to make up for what I’d rather be doing. “How about a sneak preview of what’s going to happen tonight?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Ladies’ bathroom. I’m going first, you can meet me in two minutes. No sooner or people will know.”

“I don’t care,” he says, starting to rise along with me, but I push down on his shoulder.

“Well I do.”

I feel my heart thundering as I make my way past the guests, certain they’re going to suspect something. But part of me finds that very fact thrilling.

Waiters and waitresses smile as I head past them, pushing open the door to the ladies’ room. I check my makeup in the mirror, then head for a stall. What if someone comes in after me? Will I have to close it and hope that Oz can find me?

That thought makes me giggle. The thought of him pushing open stall doors, searching for me.

He’s actually adapted really well to his missing eye. There was a bit of pain for a while, but now with the prosthetic you’d never know. He also showed me his big dark secret, the stack of photos he had of me from the years we were apart. If I didn’t know before then how deep his obsession went, I certainly did when I saw them. There were hundreds. All different angles, all different moments. Almost a timeline of my college days, my internship, my first few cases before I came back to Detroit.