Mistakes Were Made(9)

Three





ERIN


Erin should’ve felt worse about this situation than she did.

She fucked one of her daughter’s friends! Rationally, she knew how absurd that was.

This was just … not a thing that happened. People didn’t sleep with their children’s friends—at least not the type of people Erin knew. Jesus, her mother would’ve killed her. Getting divorced had been bad enough, now a sex scandal?

It wasn’t going to be a scandal, obviously. No one in Nashua knew anything about it. Only Erin and Cassie knew. And that was how it was going to stay. No one could ever know. She had considered telling Rachel when it was a standard one-night stand, but now? No. This was a secret Erin needed to take to her grave.

Here was the thing, though …

It was great sex. No, “great” was not the proper adjective. It was outstanding, unbelievable, history-making, world-shaking sex. It couldn’t just have been that Erin hadn’t slept with a woman since college. Erin had had good sex—even since the divorce, she’d had good sex. She’d never had sex like that. Which didn’t even make sense because it had been in the back seat of a car. Who has the best sex of their life in a parking lot in the back of a rental?

Cassie wasn’t even old enough to rent a car.

Erin should’ve been embarrassed.

Erin should not have been sitting on the edge of her hotel room bed, wondering if there was a way for it to happen again. She should not have been considering changing her clothes. There was no reason she couldn’t wear what she wore to breakfast to the a cappella concert.

Then again, she left tomorrow. If she didn’t change, then she’d overpacked. It would’ve been a waste, really, if she didn’t change.

In a fit of pique yesterday morning, Erin had thrown her favorite jeans into her suitcase. The ones Rachel always said made her ass look amazing. She hadn’t needed to pack them, and she definitely didn’t need to wear them. She’d packed the jeans for Adam, to remind him how hot his ex-wife was. Adam was not the reason Erin edged them up her legs.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t a crime to want to look nice. It hurt no one to distract Cassie with a little cleavage. Sure, maybe Erin was thinking more about how Cassie didn’t get to see her boobs last night, how it was a lot easier to pull a shirt over her head than take a dress off—but it wasn’t like anything was going to happen. They were going to be in an auditorium filled with people.

There was a chance she wouldn’t even see Cassie, Erin realized as she found a seat. She left the aisle seat open next to her, even though Cassie had probably already arrived. She’d be sitting with Acacia or any number of age-appropriate friends. Erin looked for her anyway.

Erin would’ve had a hard time finding Parker in a crowd this big; she had no chance of finding someone she’d only met twice. In the bar—and in the bar’s parking lot—the light had been too low for her to even notice the pink streaks in Cassie’s hair. The crowd here was boisterous, a steady hum of noise punctuated by occasional shouting or shrieks of laughter. It skewed young. Young enough that Erin wanted to look away. She’d slept with a college student.

Just as she decided it was too late—past the time the concert was supposed to start—Cassie walked right by her.

Erin didn’t pause before saying her name.

Cassie turned around, grinning when she laid eyes on Erin. God, she was pretty. Erin swallowed. Smiled. Gestured to the seat next to her.

Cassie’s hair was in a braided ponytail. A few strands had come loose, dangling around her face. She was in the same clothes from breakfast, but they were a mess now. Something black was smeared across the front of her plain white T-shirt. She must have wiped the same thing off her hands onto her jeans, streaking along her thighs. She looked like a mechanic after a long day, and Erin’s entire body was suddenly too hot.

Cassie spared a glance toward the front of the auditorium before sliding into the seat beside Erin.

“Hey,” she said, stretching one leg out into the aisle.

Whoops went through the audience as the lights went down. The stage door opened, and the crowd noise rose to a crescendo as the first group walked out.

“You made it just in time,” Erin said.

She was grateful for the timing, actually, as it saved her from small talk. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. She tried to focus on the group onstage, not the way Cassie’s hands fidgeted in her lap, not the sense memory of those hands on her body. The singers were all boys—men—guys. Their opening song was “Billie Jean.”

This didn’t need to be weird. Cassie had promised Erin she’d point out Parker’s crush—how would she do that if they didn’t sit together? That was all this was. There was no reason for Erin to be hyperaware of Cassie’s movements as she did something on her phone, then pulled her canvas jacket closed over her stomach. There was no reason for Erin to want to tell Cassie that she didn’t have to hide the stain on her shirt, that Erin liked the idea of Cassie getting dirty.

Three songs went by before Cassie said anything else. And when she did, it was: “Sorry if I stink.”

Erin tried not to laugh. What a way to start a conversation.

“I was in the shop all day,” Cassie continued. “Didn’t have time to get all dolled up.”