HARBOR: Beards & Bondage Read online

  “Huh,” I grunt in agreement. “That might be the only thing about this that makes sense.”

  “Still makes me feel like shit.” Brooklyn wipes her hands on her napkin, then reaches for her phone. “You wanna see my wedding dress?” She crosses the room this time and shows Shaw the photo on her screen before she comes over to me. I try not to notice the way she walks or how lush her thighs look barely covered by her silk nightshirt. I can’t ignore the way her nipples are brushing through the smooth fabric.

  I look toward her phone as she nearly steps between my legs. I take the device and zoom in on the picture of her standing in the bridal shop mirror. I know plenty about custom men’s clothing, but I don’t know a damn thing about wedding dresses. That doesn’t change the fact that Brooklyn Lewis looks stunning in white.

  “I paid out the ass to get the alterations just perfect. It’s impossible to get any kind of a refund on a custom wedding dress.”

  “When was the ceremony supposed to be?” I ask.

  “In two months. I actually had someone ask me if it was cancelled. Tough to get married when your groom is dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I hand back her phone.

  She gives me a tight smile. “It is what it is.” She crosses the room and sits back down in front of her food. The bold confidence she’s been showing off since I met her in the cemetery seems to suddenly fade.

  “What are you thinking about?” Shaw asks her.

  “I don’t know. It’s not a new revelation or anything, it just shocks me every time I think about it. No one has let me deal with this the way I want to deal with it yet. Well, not no one. My sister and my close friends have been great, but there’s still this, this wall. It’s like a comfort barricade or something. Of course, no one knows what to say when someone dies and it turns out they were cheating, but everyone seems to expect to only want to hear certain things from me.

  “And that doesn’t even include Josh’s family, who I’m considering completely cutting off because somehow I’ve been their emotional rock and being the emotional rock for white people in this situation is about as fucked up as it sounds.”

  “I think we’re having the opposite problem. Or an adjacent problem,” I say.

  “What’s that?”

  “Corrine’s family hates us and they banned us from the funeral,” Shaw responds.

  “Why do they hate you?”

  “Would your mother want you entering a full-time relationship with two men, especially if she thinks it’s just about sex?”

  “Well, my mom’s dead.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I—”

  “Thank you, it’s okay. And I’m not sure. I think she’d be more concerned about whether or not I was happy and my needs were being met. And if she liked the two guys.”

  “Yeah, we never got that far.” Shaw sighs and leans back across the firm couch cushions.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve known each other five seconds, but I like to hope that you treated her well. I have not enjoyed dealing with Josh’s family, but I think it would hurt way more if they shut me out. What would help you two? What would help you grieve?” She suddenly laughs. “I didn’t think this conversation would go this way, but whatever. Tell me what you need.”

  “I don’t know,” Shaw says and I know he’s telling the truth. He’s hurting, but we both know there is no good way to get through this, the grief and the betrayal all wrapped up together. There’s no easy answer.

  “I just want to see him smile again,” I say honestly. I can handle deep pits of my own personal hell, but I can’t stand to see Shaw hurting like this. I love him too much. He won’t look at me now because he knows that.

  “You like titties, Chris?” Brooklyn suddenly says. “I can flash you. I’ll show these titties and put a smile right on that face.”

  “Wow,” Shaw said, a laugh rumbling up from his chest. A genuine smile touching his face.

  “See Vaughn, you just gotta shock him into it. Next time he’s sulking, slap him in the face with your dick. Perk him right up,” Brooklyn teased with a wink.

  “I can see why his family is leaning on you,” I say.

  “Oh, I know. I was cursed with a warm, caring personality and an amazing sense of humor. Brings all the boys to the yard. Makes it impossible for them to see you as a person while they are busy basking in your glow. Thought Josh was different, but I was wrong.”

  The words tumble so easily for her and I can tell she’s said them before, but maybe not to the people who need to hear them most. Brooklyn Lewis has a way about her, that’s for sure.

  “What do you need?” I ask her.

  “Not sure if I’m ready to admit that to you yet, Vaughn. This is also why I can’t go to a therapist and I’m getting secondhand tips from my friends.”

  “Why?” Shaw asks.

  “I’m bottled up too tight. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in touch with my feelings. I know everything that’s going on inside. The why and the how and how it tastes and how it smells. But I can’t articulate it.”

  “Why?” Shaw asks again, with more tenderness this time. He really wants to know and so do I.

  “Uh, let’s just say that when the interior is at odds with the exterior, it’s hard to get the validation you need. You’re a tall, strong man. You work with your hands. Say you’re deathly afraid of spiders,” she says to Shaw.

  “He is,” I can’t help but mess with him a bit. He smiles a little and my heart inflates a bit more.

  “There you go. I’m sure your punk boyfriend—who is just blowing up all your secrets—believes your phobia is real, but if you told most people daddy long legs pushed you to tears and blubbering, it would be hard for them to believe it. They’d have to see you break down and then they’d have to love and respect you enough not to judge you for it. Make that commitment not to make you handle the spiders anymore. Or help you with your fear, if that’s what you want.”

  “Okay, so what’s your big scary spider,” Shaw asks.

  “Well, since we’re just spilling secrets to practical strangers, my big scary spider is that fact that even though I am an extremely accomplished woman, I am terrified of ending up alone. When Josh proposed, I was overwhelmed by the idea that love had finally found me,” she says with a dramatic wave of her hand. “But when I breathe in the general direction of thinking I could end up alone, I have a list of fifty reasons why any guy would be lucky to have me. I agree with everything on that list. That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve only had one serious boyfriend and the fact that that boyfriend, turned fiancé, was murdered while he was busy wanting more. More than me.

  “Because like I said, cheating is about wanting more or wanting it all, so clearly I wasn’t enough. And I know how that sounds, but it’s how I feel and the few times I’ve even dared breathe a word of something even close to that to my friends and my sister, they rush to assure me that it isn’t true. They can’t explain how to rebuild trust for myself when I can’t even yell at the person who hurt me. So now I feel both undesirable and stupid. That, boys, is my spider.”

  I look at her as she takes a deep swig right from the wine bottle. And then I look at Shaw as he turns to me. Now is not the time for either of us to mention how good she looks in that night shirt.

  Four

  Brooklyn

  I’m doing it again. Being too much, too soon. I know what Chris and Vaughn are thinking and what impression they are going to have of me when they leave. Oh, Brook’s great. She’s strong. She’s bold. Boy, is she funny. She’s going to be fine. I don’t know why I thought meeting them would help. I just added two more to the list of people standing on the other side of the chasm between me and whatever I need to regain my sanity.

  I know I won’t heal overnight. I know I’ll never fully be the same.

  I see it with the victims I try to fight for every day in the courtroom. Time doesn’t heal shit. Time just allows for more room for pain to twist and fester unless you work rea
lly hard at it. It’s a constant battle that shapes and reshapes you over and over again. You never get over trauma, you just learn how to deal with it.

  And that’s what people don’t understand. I’ve been hurting for so long. I’m still hurting from losing my parents and years of thinking I might lose Liz too. To lose Josh like this and to think he never really loved me at all? It’s too fucking much.

  I ache all the time and I see now, looking at Chris and Vaughn, knowing that when this night is over and they go home to each other, I am truly alone. This is why I can’t go to therapy, because I know what a therapist will say. I know what tools they will give me. I’ll forgive myself over time. Like how I finally stopped playing the what-if game when it came to my parents. I know, one day I’ll look back on this and know it wasn’t my fault. I’ll be able to say Josh was the asshole in this situation. I’ll be able to say it with no hesitation and know that he made a choice, a choice that would have hurt me in different ways if we’d made it down the aisle.

  But for now, there’s just pain. There’s hurting and self-blame and this bone-deep desire for someone to actually love me. To be in love with me. To want me and to mean it. That’s the tricky detail I’m not ready to tell a therapist or anyone really, because no one can fix it. No one can make that love appear out of thin air. It’s not just that I’m hurt by what Josh did. I’m terrified of the future because of it.

  “Brooklyn?” I look up at the sound of Vaughn’s dangerously deep voice. For all I know, he’s a complete asshole. Maybe he’s controlling, inconsiderate. Maybe he never puts the toilet seat down and Corrine was just sick of it, but I highly doubt any of those things. Since the day he first approached me, I knew there was something about Vaughn Coleman. Something warm and kind. Honest. It’s what made me think contacting him was a good idea, but now I know I’m just wasting his time.

  “Vaughn,” I say.

  “Do you want us to go?”

  “No.” I shake my head as the word rushes out of my mouth because I don’t. I like Vaughn and Chris, even though he had a bit of an attitude at first. I get it. Strong silent type who’s more comfortable with a warehouse full of wood than talking to a stranger about his feelings. There’s warmth there too, though. You just have to get close to him to access it. I think he and I have a lot in common. Not that it matters. “I think I just—maybe I came in a little hot.”

  “Nah, you’re good,” Chris says.

  “You guys hang out. We can order more food if you want. Unless you want to go.”

  Vaughn looks at Shaw for a fraction of a second before his attention is back on me. “We’re in no rush. We can chill for a bit.”

  “I want to keep talking to you, I—”

  “You chill. We can do the talking,” Chris offers.

  “I can live with that. Or if you want, we can say fuck it and go roll around in that king bed over there.” I let out a shaky laugh, feeling like a whole fucking fool for blurting such an inappropriate thing. You can’t ask two guys you just met to fuck you. I mean you can, but in this situation you probably shouldn’t. It’s too late now though.

  My words are out and Vaughn is looking at me with what can only be described as pity in his eyes. Just what you want from an attractive man, even if you’re only joking about having sex with him. And I was definitely joking. I lost my libido with Josh. There are still hints of arousal here and there, but I know I can’t perform. I’ll freeze up and probably start weeping. But Vaughn doesn’t know this and he’s still looking at me. The pity is still there.

  “Have you been with anyone since?” he asks gently. It’s a stupid question because of course I haven’t, but I can tell he means well.

  “No, I have not. How about you?”

  His eyebrows come together as he frowns. He’s not sure if I’m being serious or not until Chris pauses and looks over at me.

  “Right. Duh. You two. Sorry.”

  “You’re good,” Chris says.

  “I think I can speak for the both of us when I say we would love to spend the night with you, but—” Vaughn says.

  “You don’t think going from being dumped via homicide to a casual threesome would be the best idea,” I reply, ignoring the way my panties have basically flooded at the idea. Is it fucked up in the extreme? Yes. Would I love to get my back knocked out by two men as attractive as Chris and Vaughn? Hell yeah. But he’s right. That would just invite more confusion that would leave me more empty inside.

  I have needs. Real needs and Vaughn Coleman and Chris Shaw aren’t the people to meet those needs. I need to come to terms with this. I need to wrap my head around the fact that I am in this alone. I have to get through this on my own. Hopefully on the other side, there’s more joy and a hell of a lot less pain. And sex I might actually enjoy.

  “I hope you don’t take that as any kind of rejection because believe me,” Vaughn says, his eyes wide as he looks me up and down. Chris’s gaze is back on the wine glass he’s rolling gently between his palms. Still, his lack of eye contact does nothing to dull the heat in his words when he speaks.

  “Yeah, finding you attractive isn’t the issue.”

  “I have to say, I am a little jealous. You two have each other.”

  “You have us now,” Vaughn replies. “Not that way, but I think we have a very unique club going on here. Scorned lovers with no closure and whatnot.”

  “Is it okay if I get your number from Vaughn?” Chris asks.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  It’s interesting to see the effortless, silent exchange between them when Vaughn tosses Chris his phone without warning. Chris snatches it out of the air and unlocks it with the passcode. His fingers fly across the screen and then my phone chimes with a text.

  “There you go. You have the both of us now.”

  “Thank you. Well, what am I supposed to do now?” I say as I walk over and flop down beside Chris on the couch. “I was ready for some run-of-the-mill small talk, but now I’m torn between rambling some more and a good old fashioned sob session. But I guess you two don’t need to be here for either of those things to happen.”

  “Nah. No need for that. Here.” Chris moves closer and puts his arm around me. I want to be shocked by it. Especially from the way he came into my hotel room, a little on edge, but I accept the comfort. I lean into him for just a moment before he rethinks his position and takes off his letterman jacket. He’s wearing a soft sweater that smells of soap and faintly of wood. It would make a perfect candle. Vaughn stands up and finds the remote next to the TV.

  “Let’s see what on.” He sits on the couch beside me. He doesn’t touch me, but I can still feel the warmth coming off him. He rolls through the guide until he finds reruns of Living Single, something we can all agree on. Resting against Chris’s side, I realize just how fast my heart has been beating this whole time. How hard it’s been beating since I hopped on the parkway.

  I close my eyes as Regine starts to go in on Max. I try to focus on the rise and fall of Chris’s chest. I can’t help but wonder how the hell he’s so calm. Maybe because he hasn’t spent the last twenty minutes rambling and taking half a bottle of wine to the head. I can’t help but wonder how Vaughn is so relaxed next to me, with his impossibly long legs stretched out beside the coffee table.

  Maybe it’s because they have each other. They’ve had weeks to comfort each other. Weeks to fall apart together and to build each other back up. I know they are not okay. I could hear the pain in Vaughn’s voice when he talked about her. I could see the hurt in Chris’s eyes when he talked about the how and why they were currently in this fucked up position.

  My eyes blink open and I close them again. That ache returns to my chest. I want Chris to kiss me. I want Vaughn to put the weight of his whole body over me. I want to feel something other than this. I want reliable human contact that’s not asking me to put on a brave face. I fight back the tears and try not to beat myself up too much. I miss my cheating fiancé. I miss Josh.

  Chris
and Vaughn leave a little before one a.m. We watch TV and talk a little more. I ask Vaughn about his work in patent law. He asks me about the politics of the D.A.’s office. That’s all fine and good until we start talking about the upcoming election for mayor. It makes me think of Josh and suddenly I need to change the subject.

  Shaw distracts me by showing me his craftsman website where, a few times a year, he posts photos of select projects, step by step. Looking at pieces of wood go from planks or stumps to useful expensive things is somehow soothing. He shares some other craftsmen's Instagrams with me. I watch a guy make a table in his Instastories and feel my heart start to slow a little.

  When it’s time for them to go, I reluctantly tell them how I don’t know how I’m feeling about the next day or if I’ll even stay til Sunday morning like I’d initially planned. I apologize. It was my idea for us to meet up, but I didn’t manage my own expectations and now I feel like I am just wasting their time. They are both very sweet about it. Too sweet. They go. I tidy up a bit before I remove my lace front so I can wrap my hair, then I fall into bed.

  I’m asleep almost immediately, but I sleep like shit. Hard, deep sleep, but it’s full of nightmares. It’s full of Josh. It’s the same version of the same dream I can’t seem to stop. I see him somewhere. At work. On Liz and Silas’s farm. Coming out of the men’s room in my favorite bar. Standing on the other side of the platform while I wait for the train.

  This time he’s in my apartment. I am so pissed. So hurt. Everything inside me is boiling. I want to tell him to leave. I want to tell him I deserve a fucking explanation. But I say nothing. I just watch him as he pretends. He sets down his bag. He smiles at me and he lies. He lies about how he missed me. He lies about how much he loves me.

  My throat burns with unshed tears. Finally I tell him I know. I tell him I know about Corrine. He just smiles and asks me if I want to walk down to the bodega. More happens. I’m walking with my friend Noa. Some actor I don’t even like tells me he wants to take me out, but there are condition. I have to rub his feet. When I jolt awake close to six a.m., my throat still hurts.