---

It’s Friday night and today has been a particularly stressful one. I’m so glad I’ve decided to start this business. Not just because I’ll be earning an income. But because I’ve realized the Milly who was class mother, always at school volunteering, was living a lie. My wings, long tucked under my body and unused, are starting to unfold.

I'm not judging those for whom that is enough, but I'm realizing it isn't enough for me. That I'm planning a party for Dean makes it even more high stakes. I want it to be perfect.

Cristal was professional when I called to let her know I would in fact accept the contract, but I could hear a distance in her voice that hadn’t been there before. I'm sure she thinks the only reason I have gotten this job is because of Dean, and I want to prove her wrong.

I spent the afternoon at Anthony’s school volunteering in the library. I tried to be more engaging than I normally am, but all this led to was me fielding about half a dozen “sympathetic” questions about Kevin and the woman he brought with him last night.

“She looked so young.”

“I don’t know how you managed to sit through that entire performance with your husband and his girlfriend right behind you.”

“They must be serious if he brought her here.”

I wanted to scream. Instead I just nodded.

I’ve never understood this about some women. I have two sisters who despite geography and huge differences in personality, are my best friends. They were my first friends. I learned how to love, encourage, and uplift other women by having good relationships with them.

The notion of intentionally hurting someone just because it makes you feel better about your own sorry state is completely unfathomable to me. Therefore, these women and their behavior totally bewilders and wounds me.

Not because I'm sad Kevin is with Rachael. But because they would use it as a weapon against me.

My mother always says that misery loves company. That when someone is trying to hurt you it’s because they are hurting themselves. So, I look at those women and I only feel sympathy for them.

I left that afternoon as friendless as I arrived, but with a bit of clarity, too.

I have spent years settling for safety. I wanted to be with someone so desperately I essentially abandoned myself. I have had my world ripped out from under my feet, I have been humiliated publicly and am facing the risk of losing custody of my son.

My mettle is being tested, I’m either going to crumble or I'm going to come out stronger. Right now, I’d take odds on the latter.

Today, for the first time in ten years, I thought about a future that is based on what I want. I want to find my passion and pursue it. I want to show my son that his mother can do anything she puts her mind to and therefore, he can, too.

I have a date tonight. With a gorgeous, blond Adonis who I had sex with last week. Who loves me. Who fought for me.

I shiver at the thought of Dean.

I’ve played his voicemail several times today. I can’t wait to see him. I’m not sure if it’s him or if it’s my new-found freedom, but I feel like breaking more rules. I want to shock myself tonight.

When my mom got back from Atlantic City she peppered me with questions about Dean’s stay. I tried to be as vague as possible because even though I'm certain of his feelings for me—everything feels so new.

She dropped it, but I know she only gave me a temporary reprieve. She’s with Anthony, and I can hear them roaring with laughter in his bedroom as I start to take off my clothes to get ready to shower.

My phone rings just as I turn the water on, and I see it’s my sister, Addie. She’s in London, basking in the glow of young and happy love. She doesn’t know about Kevin and me. I haven’t told my sisters yet. I don’t know why, but I just can’t. It might be a matter of pride, but I know deep down they always thought it was silly of me to get married so young. I also think that Lilly, in particular, never liked him very much. I’ve sworn my mother to secrecy for now. I’ll tell them when I’m ready.

“Hey, Ad!” I answer brightly.

“Hi, sis,” she responds in a flat monotone voice.

“Oh, babe. You sound so glum.” I wish I could wrap my arms around her.

“I am. I’m miserable. It’s cold. I’m hungry,” she whines. Addie isn't a whiner. Unless she's talking to me. Then she reverts to the little sister who whines and wants me to pick her up and put her in bed with me.

“Addie, the only two things you can do anything about are the hunger and the misery. Go and get something to eat and call Simon.”

“I can’t call Simon. He’s busy. You’re always free. So, I'm calling you instead. And yeah, I’ll go and get something to eat. I didn’t call to talk about me. I just wanted to say hi. How are you guys?”

“Fine.” It comes out in a high-pitched squeak that sounds ridiculous.

“Okay . . . well, can I talk to Anthony or is he already in bed? I miss him. I should come visit soon. During his summer break?”

That sends a course of panic through my body. I’m not ready for her or anyone to come visit, yet.

“We’ll come see you. Anthony loves flying,” I say hurriedly, trying to dissuade her from making plans to come here.

“Okay, whatever. I just need some Anthony time. Soon.” She doesn’t sound convinced and I know I need to end the call.

“Hey, I'm getting in the shower. Go eat.”

“Why are you showering? It’s like six thirty. Did you and Kevin just fuck?” She snickers.

“You are so crass, Adelaide. I have to go. Go eat,” I snap.

And without giving her a chance to say anything else, I hang up.

I can’t help but laugh as I get in the shower.

If only she knew.

---

---

Milly walks into Claudia’s ten minutes past seven. And the minute I see her, I forget about the time. Milly knows how to make an entrance.

She is wearing a red dress, it’s only closure, a zipper that runs from top to bottom in the front. It fits her like a second skin. It is long sleeved and hits her right below her knee.

She turns around to say something to the hostess, and I get a view of her back. There is a wide, exposed zipper that is open from the middle of her shoulders up. It was so tight she couldn’t possibly be wearing any underwear beneath it.

My mouth waters as I think about her immaculately groomed pussy. The deep V in the front of the dress lets me see she's wearing the chain with that pendant and my ring hanging from it.

She strides toward the table where I'm sitting, her eyes never leaving mine. Her hair, rather than being up as I requested, has been blown into pin straight strands which shimmer with every step she takes.

She looks like Hera descending Mount Olympus. She's more beautiful than Helen of Troy, and I would be willing to battle an entire nation for her. And unlike that poor schmuck Paris, I would fucking win.

I stand as she approaches our table and walk toward her. The restaurant is crowded. The bar is standing room only and between the background music and the conversation, it’s loud.

Yet, as I cut through the crowd and tables that are separating us, our eyes never leaving each other, she's the only person I notice.

“Red, you’re beautiful.” Is all I say before I lay my lips on her and kiss her. It’s not a deep kiss, but it’s claiming and hungry. She leans into me, her scent—roses—is intoxicating.

She moans when I pull my lips away. Her eyes are hooded. And I remember the Milly who had always thought public displays of affection to be tacky. But tonight, right now, it’s obvious she doesn’t care.

Our eyes hold and I smile down at her. “Come. Let’s sit down and eat.”

I take her hand and lead her back to our table. It is away from the crowded bar area, and more of a booth than a table. I let her slide in first and then sit down next to her.

Our waitress appears almost immediately. She orders a glass of white wine, while I order a whiskey.

“So, how was your week?” She turns so she's facing me. I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to me.

“It was rather ordinary. How was yours?”

“Busy. I had a lot of meetings this week, but my Friday is turning out to be a real winner.” She grins.

Her grin is infectious, and I find myself grinning back.

Our drinks arrive at the table and she immediately takes a long sip. And then she looks at me and says, “Tell me about your fiancée.”

It’s not what I am expecting her to say. I know my expression changes and she must see it, too. Right away. I feel the mood at the table shift from lighthearted to tense.

“Never mind. I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to ask. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” she says quickly before I can respond.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? I want to tell you. I was an asshole. I didn’t love her. I should never have asked her to marry me. In the end, it turned out she was just like my mother. With me for my money and status. She was stealing from me. And when I found out, right on the heels of finding out about you, I called it off. She's still living in the place we shared. I’ve given her a few months to find something else, but that’s it.”

She squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry she hurt you. I want to kick her ass because she hurt you, and kiss her because she also left you free to be with me.”

She smiles at me and it reaches all the way to her eyes, which are the color of beaten gold. She takes my breath away. Every single time I look at her.

“I was always free to be with you, Red. I’ve always been yours,” I whisper.

She grins at me and winks. And now I want dinner to be over so I can get her home and out of that dress.

I try to remember why I asked her to dinner. I want to date her, like we never got the chance to. I wasn’t even planning on taking her home tonight. So, I steer my mind back to our date and keep the mood light.

“Tell me, Red. How long have you been planning events?”

That question has the exact opposite effect. Her face falls. “To tell you the truth, yours will be my first.”

My eyes widen and I sit back in mock shock.

“My first, professionally. I’ve been planning events for years. I promise I can do the job Cristal hired me for,” she adds hastily.

“Okay,” I drawl.

Her eyes narrow and she looks ready to defend herself. I can’t hold my laughter in anymore.

“You should see your face. I’m just fucking with you. I trust Cristal implicitly. I know she wouldn’t hire anyone who would let me down. I'm not the slightest bit worried about you as our event planner.”

She throws her napkin at me.

“You rat. You let me sit here and squirm. That was very unkind,” she scolds. I can tell she wants to laugh, though.

“I'm sorry. I couldn’t help it,” I say in between guffaws. She starts to laugh, too, and her laugh is melodic and rich. Her head thrown back, her eyes closed, she looks positively gorgeous.

“I’m sorry. I must seem like such an ass, sitting here laughing at you. I shouldn’t have teased you about something you’re sensitive about.”

“I’m not that sensitive.” She rolls her eyes. And it’s true. Her feelings were never easily hurt. “I’m the mother of a six-year-old boy who is very honest in all of his observations. I know where every single line, dimple, and imperfection is on my body thanks to him. I get told when I'm not funny, when I don’t look good, when I don’t smell good, and when I need to change my nail polish color. So, believe me, I have a pretty thick skin.”

“You’re a mom,” I say, hearing the sense of wonder in my voice.

“Yes, I am.” She smiles at the thought of her son.

“Do you want children?” she asks me.

“Yes, of course,” I answer quickly. It’s something I’ve always wanted.

“Do you want more children?” I ask her in return.

“Yes, so much, Anthony would be a great big brother, and I always wanted a large family.”

“Why didn’t you have more after Ant Man?” I ask.

“Kevin didn’t want more, and honestly, now I'm glad. It would make our custody battle so much more stressful if we had more than one child.”

“Shit, Red, how is that going? You’ve got a good lawyer, right?”

“Yes, I have the best lawyer. And it’s going okay, we have a hearing set, but we can’t even file for divorce until January of next year, so we might have to do this again once that is final.”

She takes a large gulp of wine, and I can sense her stress.

“You’re not worried, right? I mean, you’re his mom. You seem like a model citizen—despite your proclivity for wearing dresses that make men want to rip them off your body.” I wink at her. “You should be okay.”

She laughs at this but says, “I’m not that worried, but let’s talk about something else.”

“Fine by me.” I pull her closer to me. She seems to welcome the closeness and burrows herself into my side.

“Let’s talk about how much I thought about you and your pussy this week.”

At that unexpected, but welcome subject change, I feel her relax. She puts a hand on my thigh and says, “Did you?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about you with your legs spread apart while I eat you ’til you cry and beg me to stop.”

I put my hand on her thigh under her dress. I run it slowly up her leg until I gets to the middle of her inner thigh, and then I start to knead the flesh there.

She sighs, I can feel the heat coming from her pussy. I know she wants my hands to give her relief.

“Tell me, Red. Tell me what you need,” I whisper in her ear.

I look around the restaurant but no one is paying any attention to our little corner.

She closes her eyes and breathes. “I need you to touch me, Dean.”

“No. Tell me what I want to fucking hear. Don’t be a lady with me. I want you tell me what you want.”

Her heart is racing. I can see the pulse thudding in her throat. Milly doesn’t curse. She doesn’t even think the words I want her to say. But I can tell she wants to . . . that she wants to find that part of herself and explore it.

I know that the rubbing of my hand on her thigh is beginning to feel like torture. Her hips are moving in small circular motions. She needs release.

“Tell me right now, or I will stop,” I growl.

“Touch my pussy, Dean. Please, fuck my pussy with your fingers,” she whispers, and my hand flies up her leg and does just as she asks. As I suspected, she’s not wearing any underwear.

I slip two fingers inside of her and her eyes fly open as they stretch her swollen, sensitive flesh. My thumb presses down on her clitoris and I apply a firm pressure while I start to move my fingers in and out of her.

“Your wish is my command,” I whisper in her ear.

She looks at me, her golden gaze locked onto my green one. And it feels like our hearts are the only two still beating in the entire universe. We are completely alone in this crowd.

“This feels so good,” she chokes out, and I can tell she wants to say more, but the words won’t come. They are trapped in her throat.

“I want you to sit here, baby, with my fingers inside of you. Our waitress is coming to take our order. Do you think you can handle it?”

She shakes her head to say no. She's so close, and I know that the idea of her being here while my fingers are inside of her threaten to send her over the edge. This public act is a turn on for her; I can feel her grow even wetter on my fingers.

“If you can’t, I will stop,” I whisper.

She gasps. She doesn’t want me to stop. She plasters a smile on her face as our waitress comes back. She rattles off the specials for the evening, and I know neither of us barely hear a word she says. I tell her I’ll have the fish and Milly orders a steak.

Just as she walks away, I start to move my thumb over her clit, watching her face intently. It is a portrait of all of the different shades of pleasure. When I touch a spot that makes her clench around my fingers, I start to rub and in less than fifteen seconds she's coming.

I put my mouth over hers, swallowing her moans as she comes. This time, I kiss her with my tongue and I can taste the tartness of her wine mingling with the tang of my whiskey.

I pull my fingers out of her as she comes down from her orgasm. I put them under my nose and inhale. She smells so good.

“Divine,” I whisper. I pull out my napkin and wipe my fingers clean. “That’s just to tide me over until later.”

She's clearly stunned at what we’ve just done in public. She sits back and watches me as I take a sip of my drink, while I watch her in return.

“Red, drink your wine. The night is young.”