It was nearly eleven o’clock when he arrived on her quiet street. Her house was the only one with any lights on, and she was sitting on the front step with her arms wrapped around her legs, waiting for him. His movements were quick, urgent, and grief-laden as he rushed to the only other person who would understand the crushing guilt.
She stood up when he reached her. They embraced right there on the lawn under the night sky. They sobbed. They held each other’s faces and whispered about how sorry they both were and how they each blamed themselves and no, you shouldn’t. It was me.
The decision to have sex wasn’t really a decision at all. It was the most natural thing to do. It started and neither of them stopped it. They weren’t able to. He lifted her off her feet and carried her through the front door, shutting it with his foot while they shared their first real kiss. It was deep and painful and perfect in its own way. It was exactly what they both needed to keep them from dying of sorrow. It was enough to start the ball rolling.
They didn’t sip wine or laugh or talk. They didn’t slowly make their way to the bedroom. They didn’t even fully undress. They had sex right there in the cozy front entry, up against the wall, desperate to make each other and themselves feel anything other than the pain that threatened to pull them under.
It was Mike’s worst nightmare. The thing that would hurt him more than anything else they could’ve done that night. But then again, he’d hurt them both too, in an unforgivable way that would leave an indelible stain on both their souls. It was a revenge fuck. It was the connection they’d both been craving. It was long overdue. It was what they’d both wanted from the first time they sang together all those years ago. It was unstoppable. Inevitable. Pure. Sloppy. With fumbling hands and quick, powerful thrusts. It was wrong.
And when it was over, they stood panting, but not smiling. Raw, numb, and knowing that the pain would return far sooner than they thought it would. It was already back. Accompanied by shame. Instant remorse. The self-hatred Zane knew would come because he’d felt it dozens of times. Every time he did this. With all those women around the globe who made him feel like a man. The ones who opened themselves up to him, who wanted just a taste of his power and fame and talent. The ones who wanted a story to tell their girlfriends. The ones he’d forgotten almost as soon as it was over, who would remember him with a secret smile to themselves until they were old and wrinkled and gray.
But shouldn’t he be allowed to do this? He, who brought so much joy to the world? He, who gave his family a life beyond anyone’s wildest dreams? Sienna could have and do anything she wanted. Even better, she never had to do anything she didn’t want to do. She was a princess in a fairytale that he had written for her. And what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t about her. It didn’t mean he didn’t love her, because, by God, he loved his wife and would until his dying day. She was his partner in life, the mother of his children, his best friend.
But the artist in him needed this from time to time.Inspiration. Connection. A reward of his own making. And so, he gave himself this and returned home settled and happy again, the unrelenting restlessness at bay once again. If anything, he did this for his family. To keep the peace. To make him stay. To allow him to be the man they needed. He permitted himself this one little vice, and in doing so, he was a better man.
But this was different. Claudia was different. She was so much more when she shouldn’t be. She was nothing like his wife. Fuller and softer and shorter and tighter. She smelled sweet and delicious. She tasted new. She was exactly what he imagined she’d be thousands of times when he was alone in a hotel room with her down the hall in bed with his best friend.
And his feelings for her were what led them to exactly where they were and what they had just done. Mike knew. Sienna could feel it. Hell, he was pretty sure Sienna guessed where he was going before he did and had tried to stop him. It would be a tightrope walk when he went back home. He already knew he’d use his grief to shut down any questions she would have in the morning. And that’s what really made him a bastard. It wasn’t only the cheating. It was the lying and evading and suggesting she was crazy. How can you accuse me of something like that? Right now? When my best friend just took his own life?
He was an asshole, pure and simple. He could dress it up however he wanted to, but that was the truth. Zane knew it and so did Claudia. He could see it in her eyes as she stared up at him. And he could see that she didn’t care. She wanted him anyway. And she always would.
APRIL 1996
CLAUDIA
It happened two more times since Mike died. Each time, Claudia hated herself more than the last time. On the night of the funeral, Zane showed up at one in the morning. She knew he would from the way he looked at her at the reception. They hugged right there in the open for everyone to see, and it gave her a little thrill, even though nothing about that feeling was okay. Of course they would hug. It would have been a tip-off to everyone if they hadn’t. But there was a brief instant during their embrace where they each signaled to each other—him with that extra pressure from his hand on her lower back, her by gripping his suit jacket with a balled-up fist between them. She’d never seen him in a suit before. He was beyond handsome like that. Dignified. Powerful. Even when tears streamed down his face as he carried Mike’s coffin. She ached to wipe those tears away and hold him close right there at the gravesite. Instead, she had to watch as Sienna rubbed his back with her hand, her massive diamond engagement ring glinting in the sun.
But his wife didn’t matter when he showed up that night. Mike didn’t matter. It was about the two of them and what they shared. It was separate from anything else on the planet. It was no one else’s business because no one else was inside their minds and hearts. No one else had the burden of loving Mike the way they did. No one else would ever understand this. And so, it just belonged to them.
Claudia had a long nap when she got home from the funeral, her dreams fraught with memories of the service, of all the people who hugged her and consoled her that day, asif she were a young widow instead of the ex-girlfriend who had broken his heart. In her dream, Mike was there too, eating carrot cake and telling her he was sorry between ravenous bites. She wiped a bit of icing off his chin, but it came right back. It had gotten dark outside by the time she woke, and Claudia was disoriented. She had to tell herself over and over again what day and time it was.
She heated up a Lean Cuisine chicken pot pie in the microwave, burned the roof of her mouth on the first bite, and used that as an excuse to open a bottle of White Zinfandel. She ate her dinner in front of the television, too distracted by thoughts of Mike to bother changing the channel when the evening news started. A reporter was talking about the Hale-Bopp comet. Apparently, it was now visible without a telescope and would be for close to a year. That little fact made her burst into tears. Her heart ached for him that he was missing something he would’ve loved. A surge of anger came next. It was his own damn decision to skip out on the rest of his life, and he had forced grief on them for the rest of theirs.
She flipped the channel, stopping to watchOverboardwith Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, even though it was already at the part where Kurt Russell almost tells her the truth, then chickens out and says it’s her birthday. When the movie ended, Claudia had a hot shower, dressed in a long silk negligee, poured herself another drink, and waited for him.
That night, they made love properly, slowly, carefully. She held his hand and led him to her bedroom, where the candles were already lit. They undressed each other, shoulders were kissed, and necks, and words of longing were exchanged. She felt like a bride on her wedding night, eventhough she knew that wasn’t what this was. They lay together, tangled up, listening to the crickets outside her open bedroom window, enjoying every precious moment they had. It would be over in an instant, with only an uncertain future ahead.
The third time was nearly two weeks later. Zane showed up in the middle of the day. Sienna was volunteering for Poppy’s class field trip to the zoo, and he had the entire day to himself. They had sex immediately, then had a long lunch on the patio in her yard under the shade of the pergola. After lunch, they made love once more, this time in her kitchen with her on the counter. It was as if he was leaving a memory stamp in each room of her house. Every time was different. A new position, a new feeling. But always more intense and satisfying than anything she had ever known, followed by a shame that she knew she would never shake.
Claudia never asked about Sienna. She didn’t want to know if he would make love to his wife that night or not. She didn’t ask him to stay when he was tugging his black t-shirt over his head that afternoon. Claudia knew better. She wasn’t some naive teenager. She was a thirty-two-year-old woman who had toured the world. She knew how this worked. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
And now, it had been over two months since he’d been there. Three since Mike died. There was no reason Claudia would see Zane again. Nothing held them together anymore. She was sure after this, he wouldn’t want to risk having her go on tour again, not that they had plans to do that anytime soon.
Although there was one possible reason that would cause Zane to come running. Claudia sat on the ledge of her tub waiting for the results to show themselves, even thoughshe already knew. She had all the symptoms—tender breasts, mood swings, and her period had stopped. But she had to be sure before she told Zane. This wasn’t the type of news you gave unless you were one hundred percent positive.
Turns out that’s what she was. One hundred percent positive. One hundred percent pregnant. With Zane McCreight’s baby. She was nauseous and overwhelmed with joy at the same time. Their baby would grow up to be a musical genius. Maybe even the most gifted musician and songwriter since John Lennon. It would be hard, of course. Zane’s world would be rocked by the news. His wife’s and children’s too. But they’d all get over it eventually, and she’d have a child to love. A child conceived by two soul mates, fated to create together.
She kept the news to herself until it was too late for her to do anything about it. She didn’t tell her mother or Zane. She couldn’t face the pressure that he would undoubtedly put on her to end the pregnancy. Her mother would sigh loudly and click her tongue and tell her this was a huge mistake. She’d say she thought her daughter was smarter than this, that the world hates the other woman, and that she would be blamed for the entire thing. She’d warn her that the baby would be a bastard and would have to wear the mark of his or her parents’ infidelity forever. Zane would beg. He’d cry and tell her it would ruin his life. And Claudia, who loved Zane more than anything, would give in, and give up what might be her last chance to have a baby.
So, she waited. And cried and smiled and threw up and slept and shopped for tiny onesies and a crib. And finally,when it was too late to change her mind, she called Zane and told him they needed to talk.
“Now’s not a good time,” was his answer.
“It’s important.”
“I might be able to stop by next week.”
“I’m pregnant.”
