F*ck Marriage(48)

“Yes, physically,” he says. “He punched me and I punched back. Come on, Billie—you telling me he never mentioned this? You’d think he would since he’s had a candle burning for you for years.”

I can’t believe what he’s saying. I’m quiet for a minute processing it all.

“It wasn’t like that for Satcher and me. We’ve only ever been friendly…”

“Maybe on your end, but I’ve known Satch his whole life. He’s been in love with you for a very long time.”

I make a face. “Come on. You’re kidding me right now. Satcher, who has commitment issues and has slept with half the women in Manhattan?”

“Women overthink everything and men barely think.” He shakes his head.

“So your tension with Satcher is over me?”

“Yes. That’s where it started.”

I lean back in my seat, incredulous.

“Well...” I pause to take a giant sip of beer. “Whatever it was, it’s over now. Satcher is with Julia.”

“Certainly an odd turn of events,” Woods says, studying my face. “You sad about it?”

“Why weren’t you this concerned with my feelings when we were together?”

One corner of his mouth tucks in. “I was, but when you’re knee-deep in insecurity and denial about your role in things, it’s hard to show it.”

“Wow, ten years’ worth of therapy in one night.” I lick my lips, eyeing the bottles behind the bar. “Time for something stronger,” I say.

“Hey, remember that time we actually went to therapy?”

I roll my eyes. “If you can call it that…”

“I miss you, Billie.”

That cuts right through me. I glance at Desi and Xavier to see if they’ve heard, but both of their faces are tilted toward the TV.

The bartender steps in front of us.

“Four shots of something strong.” I hold up four fingers as I say it.

“Not for me.” Xavier stands up. The game has ended and he’s shrugging on his jacket. “Wife needs me to pick up tampons.” He smirks.

“Want to split a cab?” Desi asks.

Xavier shrugs and I wonder if he’s ever committed to anything with a strong yes. Maybe his wife. The guys head out and then it’s just Woods and me. We don’t speak for the first few minutes and it reminds me of the comfort people grow into when they’ve spent years around each other. Our shots arrive and I slide two of them over to him. We touch the tiny glasses together and then both our heads tilt back at the same time.

“Ugh ... goddamn,” Woods says. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m too old for this.”

“One more, old man,” I say, nudging the second shot.

He frowns, but his eyes are dancing.

The second shot goes down harder. I wince against the acid burn tickling my throat. Woods looks green. The liquor warms the dead parts of me; I feel myself revving up, coming to life. This is how one becomes an alcoholic, I think. Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my arms above my head. It feels good to be out of that house, away from Satcher and Jules.

I probably need to start thinking about getting my own place, but then I think of what Jules said about moving in with Satcher if everything goes right, and I feel sick.

“What?” Woods says. His eyes are hazy and there’s a slight slur to his words. “Your face dropped all of a sudden.”

I shake my head, pushing Satcher and Jules into a mental closet and locking the door.

“I’m good. This is fun.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Do you and Pearl go out drinking?”

His eyes narrow just the slightest bit, but I know his expressions well enough to catch it.

“No … Pearl doesn’t like the calories.” His voice is flat ... bored.

“Oh,” I say.

When he leans over and kisses me I’m not expecting it. My eyes are open as his soft mouth presses against mine. There’s no tongue, or spit, or roaming hands, just a tender kiss between two old flames.

I should have pushed him away sooner than I did.

“Why’d you have to go and do that?” I lean back to look him in the face. There’s not an ounce of remorse.

“The spirit led me.”

I sigh. “I better get going.”

Woods grabs my hand. “Stay,” he says.

I shake my head. “Another day. When you’re sober.”



I get home around two in the morning. Fumbling with the lock, I drop the keys. I bend to retrieve them, and when I straighten up, the door is open and Satcher is staring down at me.

I yelp, jumping back in surprise.

“What are you doing?” I can hear the defensiveness in my voice.

“Opening the door so you don’t wake the entire building.”

“Where’s Jules?” I peer around him suspiciously.

“She’s in bed. I was getting ready to leave…” His voice is low, barely a rumble.

I have a fleeting memory of our naked bodies moving together as he spoke baritone words in my ear. “You’re so wet, Billie…”

I shiver. It had been so easy to fall open for him. Too easy. I press a palm to my chest where it still feels raw from what happened between us.