After slipping into a pair of sweatpants and using the fancy espresso machine to brew a couple of lattes—Mabel declared we’d need coffee for this conversation, and I wholeheartedly agreed—I join her on the couch, pleased to find her sitting in one of my old Team USA hoodies, her knees tucked against her chest under the fabric.
“For you, Marshmallow,” I say, handing over the oversized white mug featuring a cartoon frog dressed as a cowboy that says ‘Hold on, partner. I’m overstimulated.’
“I made sure to add twenty pumps of that liquid sugar caramel crap you love.”
“I asked for twenty-one,” she deadpans, takingthe mug from my outstretched hand. I join her on the couch, sipping my own, slightly-less-sweet latte from a rainbow tie-dye mug with the phrase ‘Turns out this is my circus and those are my monkeys’ written across it. We drink in silence for a moment, never taking our eyes off one another while the tension in the room builds. And then finally, Mabel breaks.
“I thought we were past the point of lying to each other, Rye Bread.”
I furrow my brow.
“Okay, first off, who said I was lying about anything? And two, haven’t you been lying to me and yourself since we got back from Vegas? You know, considering you refuse to talk about your feelings?”
“That’s not lying. That’s me withholding information.”
“Withholding information, lying by omission. Tomato, to-mah-toh.”
She kicks one of her adorable feet out at me, and I catch it, cataloging her soft sigh when I run my thumb over the arch.
“Ryder. I know you’re not a virgin, so what gives? Do you have a stamina problem or something? Because that’s fine, we can work on that. And honestly, the sooner you finish, the better. Hate tobreak it to you, bud, but I’m kind of lazy and I like not having to work too hard.”
“Mabel,” I sigh, sounding as exasperated as I feel. As much as my dick and I love the reality of her talking openly about wanting to fuck me, I need her to listen to me first. “I’m not lying to you. If I have a stamina problem, I don’t know about it yet, because I. Am. A. Virgin. I have been my whole life.”
I drag out each word, staring into her chestnut eyes and watching as her pupils dilate, as my confession settles and the truth hits her like a ton of bricks.
“But,” she bites her bottom lip, worrying the flesh between her teeth. “What about Cancun? I saw the photos, Ry. Everyone saw them.”
Oh, Cancun. The orgy photos heard ‘round the world. I knew they would come up eventually, and if I want to know Mabel’s inner thoughts, I need to be willing to offer up some of mine, too.
“Truth for a truth?” I offer, bringing her small, delicate foot to my mouth and placing a kiss to the spot right under her big toe. Mabel doesn’t kick me in the face, so I guess she doesn’t mind my wife-specific adoration of her feet. She nods her agreement. “You first, then. Tell me something true, Marshmallow.”
She pauses, inhaling deeply, and I wait patientlyfor her to gather her thoughts, keeping myself busy by tracing the curves of her foot with my thumb.
“I like you, Ryder. I always have. It started when I was still too young for you, and by the time I’d grown up, I’d built these walls between us because…I was scared. Scared of being rejected. Scared of being hurt. And I was mad, too. Those things I said to Whitney, I meant them. You were an easy scapegoat for all of my frustrations. But even though I know I was wrong, and I know that you have feelings for me, and that there is something bigger than a marriage certificate tying us together, it’s hard. Crossing the pillow wall and humping you silly was easy, but untying all of those knots I’ve woven over the years is hard. It might take me a long time.”
The vulnerability in her voice could take me to my knees if I were standing. My steadfast, headstrong, sweet girl.
“Lucky for you, you married a verypatientvirgin.”
With a sexy little growl grumbling in her throat, Mabel pulls her foot back and slams her mug down on the coffee table.
“Alright, Rye Bread. Your turn. Explain to me how a so-called virgin finds himself dick-up in a pile of naked bodies on a Mexican beach? People weretalking about the orgy that overshadowed my birthday for years.”
“I faked it.”
She blinks at me, her face blank.
“I’m sorry, how exactly does one fake an orgy?”
I roll my eyes and toss back the rest of my latte before scooting closer to Mabel.
“I didn’t fake the orgy, Marshmallow. The orgy occurred, I just faked my involvement.”
Mabel closes her eyes, rubbing her temples.
“I feel like you’re speaking in riddles.”
“Mabel. That night was a shit show. I was trying to keep an eye on you, give you water and all that, but you were pissed at me, remember?”
