Page 32 of Every Time We Touch

“So you ditched the old dude, huh?” Skye says while she raps her knuckles against the wall. “You seem pretty cut up about it despite being the one who did the breaking up.”

“Breakups are never fun.” I barely refrain from rolling my eyes at myself.

“True dat.” None the wiser, Skye continues working. She asks me a few questions about my vision for the new changing rooms but my gaze keeps drifting to that wall she wants to tear down.

It’s Jen’s wall now. I can still feel her mouth on me. How she pushed her thumb between my lips. The hardness of her nipples. The shape of her against me.

“How about a cup of coffee?” Skye asks.

“Sure.” We go into my office where I make us each a strong double espresso. I’ve been staring at the ceiling more than sleeping this past week.

“Do you regret breaking up with Eric?” Skye asks. “Because you sure look like you do.”

I shake my head. “It’s not Eric.”

“Oh.” Skye winces when she sips from her coffee. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m not sure I should,” I say, fully aware that’s an infuriating thing to say. “Sorry. Um…”

Skye doesn’t say anything, just waits for me to say this thing I really shouldn’t say.

“It’s Jen, Eric’s daughter.”

“Yes?” She slants her head. “The one who confronted you about still being on the app? Did she tell her dad?”

“No.” I sigh. “She’s been taking lessons and we…” It’s not that I’m ashamed to admit this—the kiss was too heavenly for anything related to shame—but I’m aware of how unsavory it sounds. “We, um, kissed.”

“Say what?” Skye puts her espresso down. “You kissed your boyfriend’s daughter?” Her eyes widen. “That’s why you broke up with him?”

“I had no choice after that.”

“You don’t say.” Skye scoffs. “Jesus.” She follows up with a vigorous shake of the head.

“I know. It’s bad, but…” How to express this? “I mean, it sounds bad, but… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds?” I try, although I’m not defending myself or my behavior very adequately.

“It’s as bad as it sounds,” Skye says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.” When I think about it rationally, which I’m only able to do for tiny pockets of time, I’m aware that kissing Jen was not okay on any level. But if you were the one doing the kissing—not, for the life of you, being able to resist that pull—it was many other things than bad. It was delightful and joyous and fucking moreish. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

“At least you broke up with him as soon as it happened,” Skye says, although it sounds more like a question.

“Of course.”

“Can’t have you kissing daddy and daughter in the same day.”

“Ugh, Skye,” I groan. “Don’t say that.”

“I already said it.” Skye’s a mother of four young boys and not shy to say things exactly as she sees them. She scoffs again. “You know what this reminds me of?” She gives me a look. “When Kate first told me she’d slept with Stella. While she was still married to Kevin, Stella’s brother.” Another scoff. “Do I attract these kinds of sordid revelations? Is it something about me that invites that sort of stuff?” Because her words are a touch dramatic, but her tone of voice is anything but, it’s kind of funny when she says it. Or maybe I just need a laugh.

“It’s just coincidence, I think.”

“Just my luck, you mean.” Skye shakes her head, but smiles regardless. “To have to keep all my friends’ dirty little secrets.”

To hear Jen described as such is horrible.

“I get why it’s a lot,” I say, “but the situations are hardly the same. Eric and I weren’t married. We’d only been seeing each other for a few months.”

“But still,” Skye says.