Page 82 of Turning Back

When I’m inside her—we—when we’re inside her—I just… float away.

There is no dirty talk. There is no hard grunting or screaming. There is no “Yeah, baby,” or “Fuck me harder.”

It’s just us.

I come inside her, the muscles of her pussy clamping down on my cock as she comes too. Bric pushes us off him, kneels on the bed next to Rochelle, and comes in her throat.

After that we’re tangled again. Like we used to be. How we should be. Arms and legs crossing. Hands here and there. Mouths kissing.

And we all go still.

Smith walks through my condo door just like usual. He drops the gym bag to the floor and two rat heads peek out at me from the partially open zipper.

“What the fuck is that?” I laugh. “You got another rat dog?” Two of the little things now. Both with pink bows atop their heads.

“Chella and I are thinking about having twins,” Smith says. “So we’re practicing.”

“You don’t get to decide if you’re having twins, dumbass,” I say, looking in the bag he brought for my pastry. It’s a cherry sugar dumpling. Why do I work out every weekend when Smith just brings me this crap every Monday? I take a bite and ask, “Where the hell did you get this? My mom used to make sugar dumplings just like this when I was a kid.”

Smith points a finger at me. “Chella bet me ten dollars you’d recognize it.”

“Wait,” I say. “My mother made this?”

“No, Chella made it. But your mom gave her the recipe. They’ve gone partners in the pastry recipe business, it seems.”

I almost choke. “My mom is a pastry partner?”

“Can you believe how fast things can change in a week?” Smith asks, taking the lid off his cup of coffee to gulp it. “You and Bric are back together, Rochelle came home, Chella and I have twins. Life is good.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Why are you so upbeat? The last time I saw you, you were talking some major shit to Rochelle for coming home.”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “I’m just looking out for you, man. And we chatted on Friday. I’m happy with her responses.”

“What did she tell you?” I ask, going for my own coffee.

“She told me…” He stops, like he’s thinking back on it. “We just came to an understanding. Let’s just leave it at that.”

My phone buzzes on the counter. I pick it up and read the text from Bric. Come to the Club for breakfast. I need a favor.

“So how’s things?” Smith asks, nodding at my phone.

“We’re working it out.”

“Hey, men of habit,” he says. “The both of you.”

I have often wondered how invested Smith was in the game before he and Chella got together for real. I mean, I cannot see Bric leaving it behind. Ever. I can see myself leaving, but it’s such a trade-off for me, it’s not going to be easy. So whatever, maybe we’re both men of habit, just like Smith says.

But Smith didn’t second-guess his decision when Chella walked out. He left with her. Cold turkey. One day we’re a quad, the next day they’re a couple. No turning back for him.

I craved it all year. And the past six months, when I wasn’t talking to Bric, it was… a longing. Some deep part of me that was missing.

Today, I feel whole again. Like things are back in place. Like life is good, and this is the first day of the rest of my life. And all the other clichés that run through your head when you get exactly what you always wanted.

“You’ll get over it though,” Smith says, picking up his twin rats and slumping down on my couch. “One day you’ll wake up and be like, ‘I’d like Rochelle all to myself.’”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I say. “Because Rochelle and Adley are a package deal. And we don’t know who the father is.”

“So as long as you don’t know, you’re both the father, is that how this works?”