Stitches

Ashley slams my front door shut and looks around. She’s been in my foyer many times so there’s nothing new here, but she still looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time.

“You have a beautiful house, you know that? What am I saying? Of course you know that. Gorgeous house, sexy as hell husband, life of leisure. You’ve got it made, don’t you, Moira?”

“I’m a very lucky woman. You were, too,” I remind her.

She turns back to face me, smiling benignly. “I will be again, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Now, I realize it’s going to be a little awkward, us being friends again after you’ve fucked my husband six ways to Sunday. He’ll probably moon at you for a while and make it weird. I’m not excited about any of it, but it is what it is. You’re his fantasy girl. You know how most husbands would want to fuck, say, Mila Kunis as their free pass? You’re Griff’s Mila Kunis, so I’m gonna forgive him for this one.”

The very notion of her ever getting her claws back into Griff makes my skin crawl. He’s not here and I know that won’t happen, but I just want to grab him, snuggle him close, and protect him from her. “You need to leave,” I tell her again.

She ignores me, her heels clacking against marble as she walks in a slow circle around me. “The thing that really chaps my ass though, Moira, isn’t that you’re a homewrecking little slut, it’s that you’re a greedy little slut. You already have everything. You have the perfect life, the hotter husband, the richer husband—I don’t for one split second buy that bullshit Sebastian feeds everyone about how he cuts everything down the middle between him and Griff. He’s too fucking shrewd for that, and Griff is too fucking trusting to ever question him. That’s beside the point. The point is, you already had the better hand—why did you have to take mine, too? Why do you need both of them? Is this a pity fuck? Griff was feeling down and Sebastian’s just a hell of a friend, offered up his wife’s pussy as a salve?”

“I’ve asked you to leave multiple times. I’m going to stop asking nicely—”

“Oh, boo hoo,” she says, mockingly rubbing her eyes. She comes to a stop and stares me down. “Here’s how this is going to go down, princess. You stop fucking my husband. He’s never going to come back to me if your legs are open. Stop being a whore and stay the fuck out of my way so I can fix my marriage.”

This is starting to piss me off. I don’t like to be aggressive with people, but I sort of want to kick her in the face. “If you wanted to fix your marriage, Ashley, you had years to do it. You had a wonderful husband and you took him for granted. You’re delusional if you think there’s even a slim chance he’ll get back together with you. That’s never going to happen. You can send him all the nudes and clingy texts you want, he does not want you. That’s not going to change, and it has nothing to do with me. It has to do with you cheating on him and hurting him. Fighting him tooth and nail like this is ridiculous. You don’t love him. Not once have you accepted responsibility for hurting him, not once have you said a damn thing about his happiness or anything remotely related to love. The only person you care about is yourself. If you were the last woman on the planet, Griff still wouldn’t want you.”

She grins at me like I’ve just shown my hand and I feel like I swallowed my heart. “How did you know what I’ve been texting him? Did he tell you? Did Saint Griff feel so guilty for looking at his own wife’s vagina when he’s clearly been burying himself deep in yours that he had to confess his sins?” She laughs. “He’s such a good Catholic boy, isn’t he? Well, you know, except for fucking his best friend’s wife. That’s not terribly virtuous, now, is it?”

I normally don’t have a vicious side, but I’m sorely tempted to tell her he was too busy getting his big dick sucked to care about the picture she sent. I can’t, since that would verify that I am sleeping with him, but I can’t keep from offering up a sweet smile and at least telling her, “He didn’t even look at the picture, Ashley. He deleted it and went back to eating breakfast with me and talking about life.”

Her smile slips. I’m sure it’s discomfiting, the reminder that our relationship isn’t as shallow as theirs, isn’t held up by childish games or boob jobs or fucking. Yes, we like fucking each other, but that’s not all we have. Griff and I had a friendship long before we ever touched one another intimately.

Ashley can’t say the same thing. They were never really friends, not even once they were married. Their relationship always seemed more superficial, at least to me.

Her tone is less aggressive now as she reels herself in and talks more calmly. “You can’t keep this up, Moira. Be practical. I don’t entirely understand what the hell is going on here, but I do know Sebastian. He might be kinky enough to lease you out temporarily to ease Griff’s pain, but he’s not going to share you forever. The longer Griff fucks you, the more attached he’ll get. Sebastian is smart enough to know that.”

“You don’t know my husband, Ashley. Don’t pretend to.”

“I’ve known your husband for years, sweetie. I think I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

“If you had, you’d know better than to barge into my house and talk a bunch of shit to me,” I inform her. “Now, get the fuck out before I call the police and file a restraining order against you. I’m feeling pretty threatened right now,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes.

“You should,” she tells me, smiling over her shoulder as she turns and heads for the door. Pausing with her hand on the handle, she informs me, “I’m going to drag your dirty laundry all over this fucking city, Moira. Everyone in Philly will know you’re spreading your legs for Griff. Cheating on Sebastian. Oh, the things people will believe about you. Just wait. You’re in for a treat.”

My heart is in my throat, but I walk to the door and force myself to remain calm. “I would strongly advise against that. You’ve made your bed, Ashley. You had Griff. You lost him because you cheated on him. You got your just desserts. Walk away. You’re young and beautiful; you’ll find another bank account to milk.”

Unaffected, she raises an eyebrow. “This is your only warning, sweetie. Stop fucking my husband, let him come back to me, and we can all get back to our regularly scheduled lives. He’s not really your speed anyway. I know what you and Sebastian are into, and I know Griff isn’t. This arrangement won’t work, and when it fails—after the whole city knows what a dirty little slut you are—it’s going to tank their friendship. Griff thinks with his heart. You let him get in much deeper, he’s not coming back out—not even when Sebastian tells him to. You’re risking your own marriage to play this game. You’re not ready for the big leagues. Do the smart thing. Get off Griff’s dick and give him nowhere else to turn. Watch. He’ll come home. I guarantee it.”

I shake my head, astounded by how little she knows a man she spent so many years with. “You’re wrong. And you’re not welcome here, so don’t come back.”

“I’ll give you the night to think it over. If Griff isn’t home tomorrow after he gets off work, I poison the grape vine with sordid tales of how you single-handedly ruined my marriage. No woman in polite society will ever trust you again.”

I stop in the doorway, but she’s al

ready through it and heading for her car. “That’s bullshit and you know it. People will see this for what it is. No one will believe you.”

“Stop collecting husbands and we won’t have to find out,” she calls back.

“You’re horrible,” I tell her. “You’ve done enough to that man. Let him be happy.”

She turns back just so I can see her roll her eyes at me. “No.”

I watch her drop into the car Griff bought her, the car she’s still driving, and a claustrophobic feeling of helplessness steals over me. I can’t keep her from running her mouth, and while I told her no one would fall for her bullshit, I know better. Several of the women in our social circles already don’t trust me and I’ve never done a damn thing to warrant it. Their husbands are nice to me—their gray-haired, pot-bellied husbands. I’m married to Sebastian, for fuck’s sake. My husband is sex in a suit; what use would I even have for the unimpressive louts they married? For that matter, what good is a man who goes sniffing around another woman anyway?

There’s no logic to it, they’re just threatened by me—my looks or my personality, perhaps the old-fashioned way I take care of my husband’s needs and treat him well. I don’t know if they’re jealous of me or my relationship, perhaps just envious of the youth they no longer feel they possess. I am the youngest wife in our crowd. Most men of Sebastian’s age aren’t as established unless they’re born into one of the right families, but Sebastian had a point to prove. When my husband has a point to prove, he’ll move mountains to accomplish it.

That’s why Ashley should keep her mouth shut.