Love in Slow Motion

22. Quinn

22 QUINN

There are at least three million books on divorce. They’ll tell you how to navigate everything from custody hearings to properly splitting up your silverware.

But none of the books I read cover what to do when you let you brother-in-law go down on you because you had a sex dream about him and couldn’t bring yourself to reject his offer. They also don’t tell you what to do when you have to pretend to be married to your ex in front of his family while the brother-in-law that went down on you is in the same room.

“Smile!”

I try to force my face into a natural, happy expression, but we’ve been doing this for almost an hour and the muscles of my mouth feel like they’re going to go into spasm at any moment.

“Got it,” the photographer says, pulling her camera away from her eye and smiling at all of us.

Apparently, as soon as Madison heard that all the kids would be at the lake house at the same time, she hired a photographer to get family pictures done.

“Because when are we ever in the same room?” she said when we all met in the living room this morning. And then we all immediately had to go back to our rooms to get ready. Which now seems a bit silly. All that makeup and hair product, and we’re all sweating through our clothes. I’m not sure the pictures are going to come out that great, but I’m glad I packed at least one nice sundress. Most of my clothes are shorts and tank tops because I know how much Chase likes me in a sundress, and the thought of him finding me physically attractive makes me feel ill.

But when I came out of our bedroom wearing my favorite sundress with the little purple flowers on it, Reed’s eyes ate me up from across the room, and it made me very glad to have packed it, a feeling which immediately led to crippling guilt.

“Okay, now just the kids,” Madison says, stepping away from us to stand by the photographer. I start to inch away too, but Madison shakes her head and steps forward to push me back into the photo. My heart skips a little because by the time Madison gets these photos back, everyone will know about the divorce and the photos will be useless.

God, am I terrible person?

“If you’ll tilt this way a little bit,” the photographer says, spreading her arms wide like she’s encompassing all of us. “I want to get as much of the lake as I can behind you.” I can see our reflection in the windows of the house, the four of us standing awkwardly in front of the lake. The photographer must see the same awkwardness I do because she says, “Get closer together. Act like you love each other.” She laughs, but it’s the furthest thing from funny.

I’m standing between Chase and Reed, and at the same time, they both move in until I have the heat of them all along my body. Reed puts a hand against my back at the same time that Chase puts his arm around my waist, his hand settling with familiarity on my hip.

I can hear Reed’s gentle breathing beside me, feel the very subtle way his fingers dig into the skin of my back. I feel like everyone can see. Can they see? Will the camera pick something up and months from now, when Madison is looking back on the photos, will she think to herself, why do Reed and Quinn look so cozy ? I try to remember if Reed has ever touched me like this before. It’s the way someone touches an acquaintance. It’s not sexual by any stretch of the imagination. But nobody knows his hand is there, pressed into the fabric between my shoulder blades, except for me. Nobody can see the way Reed’s index finger draws circles on my spine.

I try to smile. Does it look normal? Is this how I normally smile? I can’t even remember right now, my brain is so fuzzy.

And then the photographer says, “Alright, got it.” She sets her camera against her chest, hanging from its sturdy strap, like she’s all done, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Reed pulls his hand from me, his fingers brushing along the length of my back as he extracts himself. I shiver, goosebumps covering me, and before Chase has a chance to notice, I pull away from him, pretending by fanning myself that I did it because I’m so hot.

“Could we just get one more?” Madison asks, rushing back over to the photographer. “I’d love a few with our little married lovebirds.” She grins big, and I realize she means Chase and me. I glance sideways at him, and he has a blank look on his face. I can’t tell if he’s enjoying this or if he’s as miserable as I am. I guess I have to give him brownie points for his poker face.

“Mom, come on, we’re hot,” Chase says, and for the first time in a very long time, I want to thank him.

But it’s a useless sentiment because Madison frowns. “Is it really too much to ask for you to take pictures with your wife? The only framed photos I have of the two of you are from your wedding. Just a couple, come on.”

“I’m going inside then,” Sabrina says, whipping off the stylish sunhat she’s wearing to cover her blonde hair. She disappears inside the lake house, and I glance over at Reed, feeling panic settle in my stomach. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to be left here with Chase, who is going to have to put his hands all over me.

But Reed doesn’t move toward the house. He stands there, still as a statue, in his dark sweater and his dark scruff. And when Chase steps up beside me, wrapping his hand around my waist again, Reed’s eyes go straight there. He watches Chase’s fingers curl around the jut of my hip. Even with the space of the back courtyard between us, I see his jaw tighten.

“Smile, darling,” Chase says in my ear, and I do, hoping it looks like something real and not manufactured.

My mind spins all the way back to last night, to Reed’s mouth between my legs, the salt on my skin as I bit down on my arm not to scream in ecstasy.

I feel the nape of Chase’s neck under my hand, where I have it thrown over his shoulders. His hair tickles the tips of my fingers, and I’m so repulsed at the feel of it that a shudder moves through me. Chase twists his face toward me, a sly smile on his mouth. “Is it getting you going, being this close to me?”

He thinks I’m turned on, when really I’m trying not to wrench myself out of his embrace.

“No.”

“Ah, come on,” he whispers, pressing his lips against my ear. “You miss this. I know I do.”

I can hear the click of the photographer’s camera over and over. She thinks she’s capturing a sweet moment between husband and wife. I smile at the camera and then turn my face toward Chase’s, our cheeks brushing as I say quietly, “You could have had this all you wanted. I’m not the one who gave it to someone else.”

He stiffens against me, and my eyes meet Reed’s. He’s watching us so closely, his hands balled into fists. Is he…jealous? He spent years watching Chase and me together, but I guess it’s different now. We’ve been in bed together. He’s made me come. I wish I was pressed to him right now instead of Chase.

“That’s perfect!” the photographer calls. “Now a kiss.”

Reed’s hands drop to his sides, and his eyes slam over to the photographer before sliding back to find me. I’m the only one who sees him. While Madison applauds the photographer for her romantic idea, Chase takes my hips in both his hands, turning me toward him.

“You heard the woman,” he says, the words smothered in smarm. One of his hands snakes up between us, and he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. My eyes dart to Reed, watching us so closely, like he’s trying to stop Chase’s downward descent toward my mouth with his mind. And then Chase’s lips find mine, and I shut my eyes.

He bends me back slightly in a romantic gesture, and I hear Madison say, “Awww,” even as I have to focus on breathing. Just a couple of pictures and then this will be over.

Maybe I should still be feeling something for Chase. Maybe it’s telling that I moved from affection to revulsion so quickly. But I don’t think it was just the cheating. Chase and I stopped having a fulfilling sex life a long time ago. Every time we slept together, it was in a rush. Chase wanted to get off quick, and if I also got to finish, that was an added bonus. But if I couldn’t find my orgasm in seven minutes or less, I was shit out of luck, and I would go to bed still throbbing between my legs.

It just started to feel like one more thing on my to-do list. Do the dishes, start the laundry, satisfy Chase, meet Brooke for lunch. It was like I wasn’t there. I was just the nearest plaything. I wanted him to want me so bad that he ached. But instead, he found someone else he could use as a plaything, and he stopped wanting me altogether.

I can’t quite pinpoint when it was exactly that I stopped wanting him in return.

Chase opens his mouth over mine, and I know he’s going to try to deepen the kiss, try to take something that doesn’t belong to him anymore, so I fake a laugh and turn my face, knowing it’ll make a good picture and get me fully off the hook.

Chase finally lets me go, and I straighten my skirt before smiling at everyone and excusing myself. I rush past Reed, feel his eyes follow me all the way inside the house, and slam the door behind me. I know they can all still see me through the big windows, whoever might still be looking, so I take it slow through the living room. But once I’m in the hallway, where I can’t be seen anymore, I run to the bathroom, lock myself in, and throw up.

I sit on the edge of the bathtub, my heart racing. I feel ridiculous at being so stirred up by kissing a man that I kissed every day for five years, but I know it’s not just that. It’s everything. Being here, sneaking around, kissing Chase, pretending to be with Chase, Madison’s cancer. It’s all bearing down on me.

I wash my hands and go back out into the hall, wiping away the sweat that’s still beading up on my forehead. Somewhere down the hall, I hear quiet voices. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk quietly down to where Sabrina and Lydia’s rooms are across from each other.

Sabrina and Lydia are sitting on Sabrina’s bed, their heads together, speaking low. When I step into the room, they both look up at me quick, like I caught them doing something awful, and then Lydia hops off the bed. She keeps her eyes on the floor as she walks by me, and I feel like I walked into a movie halfway through it.

“Did I miss something?” I ask, turning back to Sabrina and realizing she’s turned her face from me and is wiping something away. “Hey,” I say, moving to take Lydia’s place on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

Sabrina sighs, finally turning her face back to me so that I can see the streaks of makeup down her cheeks. I reach for the nightstand, for the box of tissues there, and gently wipe at her skin. “It’s just this whole thing,” she says, a stutter in her voice. “All of this one-last-time shit with my mom. One last trip. One last photo shoot. I’m starting to worry that she’s more sick than she’s letting on.”

I let the tissue fall to my lap, the bile threating to rise again in my throat. “You think she would lie to you about that?” I believe she would lie to us , but she’s much closer with Sabrina than she is with us.

Sabrina hesitates, her eyes lowered. Then she nods. “I think she would do it to protect our feelings.”

For Sabrina’s sake, I hope she’s wrong.