Page 45 of Just Past Two

“I’m not the jealous type.” Jo shrugged. “I never really have been.”

“I can understand the guilt.” Abby played with the napkin in her lap. “I sometimes feel like…” She let her voice trail off. The others waited, no one pressuring her to continue, eating while she gathered her thoughts. “I feel so worried about doing something wrong. I don’t want Sam to think he’s okay with something and then change his mind and I hurt him.”

Sam squeezed her hand this time, closing his fingers over hers. “You’re not going to hurt me. I love you.”

Abby rolled her eyes, exaggerated. “Ugh. Gross.”

They all laughed, the tension fading. Sam squeezed her hand again and held on for a long moment, reassuring her with his touch. “So where else do you folks like to go on vacation?” he asked.

Abby let out a breath. This was a much better topic. She could sit here and talk about normal things, and all would be right with the world.

Eventually.

Chapter Nine

“Thanks for meeting me.” Sam stretched his tense muscles, shaking out his legs, breath puffing in the gray light of early morning.

Mitchell nodded, kneeling down to tie his car key onto the laces of one sneaker. “Nobody ever wants to come running with me at this hour. It’s nice to have some company.”

“Well, it’s cold as fuck out here, so that makes sense.”

They settled into an easy jog, figuring out each other’s pace. Sam generally preferred CrossFit to running, but he still tried to switch things up now and then, and his body settled easily into the familiar rhythms. Somebody kept the rail trail treated all winter, and salt crunched beneath their feet as they jogged along. The morning was otherwise crisp and quiet.

Mitchell broke the silence, glancing over to Sam and then back at the trail in front of them. “I assume this is about you and Abby.”

“Things have escalated.” That was putting it mildly. Last time he’d talked to Mitchell about this was before Zach. He’d only been trying to wrestle with power exchange back then. He tried to put his thoughts into words, and Mitchell just waited, jogging alongside him without pushing him. “It started with that vibrator I bought. So, we went to this dance club.” Slowly, the story trickled out, without the salacious bits, the overview about Zach and then Stephan, as much as he felt like he could share about Abby’s uncertainties without betraying her secrets. “And now, she’s going to Stephan’s glassblowing studio tonight.”

Silence next to him made Sam look over, surprised to see Mitchell grinning. “What?”

Mitchell chuckled. “You’re right. Things have escalated. How do you feel about all of it?”

He’d been asking that question to himself over and over. “Good. It feels big. And fast. And a little overwhelming. But I feel good about it.”

Mitchell nodded. “I know those feelings.”

“Does it ever stop?”

“It gets more normal over time.” Mitchell smiled. “It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. We’re building this life together, and there aren’t roadmaps. Even other polyam people, everybody does it differently.” He caught his breath for a few steps before continuing. “Open relationships, hotwifing, triads, quads, intimate networks, there’s so much out there. All these paths, all just trying to find our own way.”

“It’s good to know people. To have friends I can talk to.” Without them, Sam would probably just be Googling things on the internet to no end.

“Same.” Mitchell nodded. “You and Abby should come over sometime. Meet the family.” He smiled. “It’s still weird to call them the family.”

“Definitely.” He’d met them all separately, now, but it would be great to see them all together.

“Tell Abby she can’t fuck any of us, though. We’re a closed triad.”

Sam whipped his head around toward Mitchell, stumbling before catching himself, while Mitchell guffawed. “I’m giving you shit,” Mitchell said, clapping Sam on the back.

Sam smiled in return, regaining his footing. “I’m starting to think you’re kind of an asshole sometimes.”

Mitchell nodded. “That’s how you know we’re friends. You still coming out for drinks with us tomorrow after CrossFit?”

Strange that some things could still be normal, when everything else was turning upside down. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

…

All studios kind of looked the same. Walking into Stephan’s glassblowing studio, Abby immediately noticed all the similarities to her own pottery studio: the urban-industrial vibe with metal lockers and steel tables, the wooden crates filled with tools, the lighting that never seemed bright enough. The only real difference, aside from the equipment, was the smell. The pottery studio smelled like clay, the faint tinge of glaze, and the light electrical burn of too many pottery wheels; the glassblowing studio smelled like fire.