All I Ask(41)

“Yes.”

There’s no way anything other than the fact that his wife was killed could beat it. The seriousness has completely evaporated and been replaced with the playfulness we’ve had most of the evening.

“Well, prepare to be outdone…I haven’t had sex for seven years.”

I gasp. “What?”

“Seven. Long. Fucking. Years.”

“You…haven’t had sex…for seven years?”

“Nope.”

“But you were married!”

Derek nods with purpose. “I’m aware.”

“Did you enter the priesthood or something?”

He laughs. “Not even close.”

I want to feel bad for him and drink, but I really hate losing. I don’t even know what to say to him.

“Okay, does your equipment not—”

“No!” he says quickly and nudges me. “My dick works just fine.”

Great. Now I’m picturing his dick. He had to say it.

“All right then.” I look at my drink, trying to understand why the hell he and Meghan didn’t have sex for seven years. That’s a really long time.

“Go ahead and ask…” Derek pushes.

Don’t have to ask me twice.

“Why the hell didn’t you have sex with your wife in seven years?”

He grabs his beer and drains it. “Because she and I were basically separated. We were roommates, trying to make things normal for Everly, but they weren’t working. So, it was…hard.”

“Or not,” I joke.

“Or not.” Derek laughs. “So, clearly you need to drink because…I win.”

My eyes narrow and I want to give him this win because, Dear God. Then I remember how much my story is really worse than his. He could’ve left. He could’ve found someone else or whatever, but he chose to stay with Meghan.

“Nice try, buddy, but you didn’t have to push a baby out of your vagina alone.” I push the shot toward him. “While your lack of sex is pretty sad, it’s not depressing enough to win, therefore”—my voice has a hint of mockery to it—“you’re drinking.”

Derek leans back in the chair, swirling the shot glass in his hand. “You don’t think being married and not allowed to have sex isn’t the sadder story here?”

“You were with Meghan when Everly was born, right?”

He deadpans. “Right.”

I laugh without humor. “Imagine that entire scene but no one there to share it with. Imagine the pain and no one to hold your hand but some stranger who can’t remember your name correctly.”

“Why didn’t you call your mother?”

This is the question she asks me anytime I bring it up. The answer is stupid, but it’s the truth. “I didn’t want anyone to see me that way.”

“What way?”

I allow the hurt to fill my eyes because the word is…pathetic at best. “Broken.”

He reaches his hand out to touch mine, but he pulls it back.

Instead of saying something, which I see he wants to, he grabs his shot and tosses it back. “Fuck.”

I giggle as he shudders from the burn. “You should’ve asked for a chaser.”

“Chasers are for pussies.”

I burst out laughing. “Which you haven’t had in seven years, my friend. So I guess you going without one tonight is par for the course.”

He moves in, his lips against my ear. “Those in sexless houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

There’s something I’d like to throw and it isn’t a stone. Like myself…at him…which will not happen.

“Okay, you go. We’re one and one.”

I can’t wait to hear this one. Again, I’ve got ammunition for days. “I’ve gotta think…”

There’s a few things I could go with, like the fact that Keith makes millions of dollars and I make minimum wage. Or how my car barely works and I can’t afford to fix it so I bribe our local mechanic with free gifts from the store whenever he’s in the dog house.

Now I’m a country song. God help me.

“You’re about to forfeit if you don’t spit it out.” I need to keep this going or my mind is going to get me in trouble.

Thinking is bad because right now, I’m thinking about how cute he looks as he’s in his head. How his hair is darker than I remember and his lips just a bit fuller.

I wonder if he sees the little things in me too. Does he wish we could go back in time and tell each other everything?

My head turns toward him as he stares at his drink. “Hmmm…”

I return to my line of thinking as I wish I had the courage to ask him.

Do you?

Do you think about me? Do you think about how we could’ve been? Do you wish it was all different? Do you see how my heart is still broken? Do you see that I never stopped loving you?

“What?” Derek’s eyes are on mine and my heart races.

Please tell me I didn’t say any of that out loud.

“What?”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything,” I stammer.

“I heard you.”

“Then why are you asking?” I toss back.