The Guest Room

Chapter 4

The stairs creaked under my bare feet. Each step felt like a countdown.

The red dress moved against my thighs. Silk. Cool. Derek had chosen well. The neckline plunged. The back was open. My wet hair left dark marks on the fabric.

Luca saw me first.

He was standing by the dining table, a wine glass in his hand. His eyes went to the dress. Then to my face. Then back to the dress. His smirk faded into something else. Something hungrier.

He said nothing. He just pulled out a chair.

Derek was already seated at the head of the table. His cane rested against the wall. His face was pale but his eyes were bright. He looked at me the way he used to look at me before the accident. Like I was something precious. Something he could not believe was his.

Eli stood by the window, looking out at the dark backyard. He did not turn when I entered. His shoulders were tense. His hands were in his pockets.

I sat in the chair Luca had pulled out. He sat to my left. Derek at the head. The empty chair to my right was for Eli.

Derek raised his glass. To new beginnings.

Luca raised his. Eli turned from the window and raised his without looking at me.

I did not move.

Derek smiled. Come on, Nova. Don't be rude.

I picked up my glass. I did not drink.

Derek talked through the first course. He told stories about Luca and Eli from college. Pranks. Road trips. Fights they had survived. He painted a picture of brotherhood, of loyalty, of three men who would do anything for each other.

I watched Luca's hands as he ate. Strong fingers. A silver ring on his thumb. He caught me looking and smiled.

I looked away.

Eli ate quietly. He did not try to catch my eye. He kept his attention on his plate, on his wine glass, on the candle flickering between us. But every time I moved, his body shifted slightly toward me. Like a plant turning toward the sun.

Derek finished his story and set down his fork. He looked at me. Then at Luca. Then at Eli.

He said he wanted to be clear about the rules.

I stopped breathing.

He said no one would touch me without my permission. That was the first rule. The second rule was that he would be present. Not in the room necessarily, but nearby. Watching. The third rule was that no one would keep secrets from him.

He looked at Luca when he said that.

Luca's jaw tightened.

Derek turned to me. His voice softened. He said he loved me. He said this was not about him. It was about me. About my happiness. About giving me something he could not.

I asked if he was finished.

He said yes.

I stood up. My chair scraped against the floor. I walked to the kitchen. I poured my wine down the sink. I stood there with my back to the dining room, my hands gripping the edge of the counter.

Luca followed me.

He stood in the kitchen doorway. He did not come closer. He said he was sorry. Not for wanting me. For the way Derek was handling this. For the video. For the lies.

I asked if he had known about Derek's plan before he arrived.

He said yes.

I asked why he still came.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said because he could not say no to Derek. And because he could not say no to me.

I turned around. He was closer than I expected. Close enough to see the small scar on his chin. Close enough to smell his cologne. Something expensive. Something that made my chest tighten.

I asked what he wanted.

He said he wanted me to tell him what I wanted.

I said I did not know.

He said that was okay. Then he reached out. His fingers brushed my wrist. Light. Questioning. I did not pull away.

His hand closed around my wrist. His thumb pressed against my pulse. It was racing. He could feel it.

He said my body knew what it wanted. Even if my mouth did not.

I should have pulled away. I should have walked back to the dining room and told Derek this was over. Instead, I stood there. Letting Luca hold my wrist. Letting my pulse speak for me.

Eli appeared in the hallway. He saw Luca's hand on my wrist. He stopped walking.

No one moved.

Then Eli turned and walked toward the guest room. He did not slam the door. He closed it softly. That was worse.

Luca let go of my wrist. He said he should go too.

I asked if he was angry.

He said no. He was jealous. Of Eli. Because Eli had confessed first. Because Eli had loved me longer. Because Eli had the patience that Luca lacked.

Then he walked away.

I stood alone in the kitchen. The candlelight flickered from the dining room. Derek was still sitting at the table. He had not moved. He was watching me through the doorway. His expression was unreadable.

I walked past him without speaking. I went to the hallway. I stood outside the guest room door.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

The door opened. Eli stood there. His face was calm. His eyes were not.

I asked if I could come in.

He stepped aside.

The guest room was smaller than the master bedroom. A bed. A dresser. A window facing the backyard. Eli's bag was open on the floor. His clothes were folded neatly. His watch was on the nightstand.

I sat on the edge of the bed. He sat in the chair by the window. He did not sit next to me. He kept distance. Respectful. Infuriating.

I asked if he meant what he said on the steps. About loving me for four years.

He said every word.

I asked why he never told me.

He said because I was married to his best friend. Because Derek deserved better than a friend who wanted his wife. Because he thought the feeling would fade.

I asked if it had faded.

He said no.

The word hung between us. Simple. Heavy.

I asked what he wanted from me now.

He stood up. He walked to the bed. He sat down next to me. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched. He said he wanted nothing. Because wanting had already damaged enough. He would take whatever I was willing to give. Even if that was nothing.

I turned to look at him. His profile was sharp in the dim light. His jaw. His nose. The small lines around his eyes from years of quiet longing.

I reached out. My hand touched his face. He closed his eyes.

I asked if this was okay.

He said yes.

I leaned in. My lips brushed his cheek. Soft. Quick. A question.

He turned his head. His forehead pressed against mine. His breath was warm. His hands stayed on his own knees. He did not touch me.

He whispered that he would not kiss me first. If I wanted to be kissed, I had to do it myself.

I sat there, my forehead against his, my hand on his face, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.

I wanted to kiss him.

But I was still Derek's wife.

I pulled back. I stood up. I walked to the door.

Eli did not follow. He did not speak. He just sat there on the edge of the bed, watching me leave.

I opened the door. Derek was in the hallway. Leaning on his cane. Watching.

His face was pale. His eyes were bright.

He asked if I was going to kiss Eli.

I said I did not know.

He smiled. A small, broken smile. Then he said something that made my blood run cold.

He said he hoped I would. Because he was already hard.

I looked down. His sweatpants betrayed him.

Eighteen months of lies. And now this.

I walked past him. I went to the bedroom. I closed the door. I leaned against it.

And I heard Derek's cane tapping down the hallway toward the guest room.

Toward Eli.

I did not know what he was going to do. I did not know if I should stop him.

I stayed where I was.

Then I heard the guest room door open. Low voices. Derek's first. Then Eli's. Then silence.

I pressed my ear against the bedroom door. Nothing.

I opened the bedroom door a crack.

The hallway was empty. The guest room door was closed.

I crept down the hallway. I pressed my ear against the guest room door.

Derek's voice, low and strained. He was asking Eli if he wanted to be the first.

Eli's voice, harder than I had ever heard it. The first what?

The first to touch her. The first to kiss her. The first to do the things I can no longer do.

A long silence.

Then Eli said no.

Not like that. Not with you watching. Not with you asking. If it happens, it happens because she comes to me. Not because you give permission.

Derek laughed. A dry, broken sound. You have been waiting four years. And now you have principles.

Some things are worth waiting for, Eli said.

I heard movement. The door opened.

I stumbled back. Eli stood in the doorway. His face was unreadable.

He looked at me. Then he stepped past me and walked to the kitchen. The back door opened and closed.

Derek was still in the guest room. He sat in the chair by the window. His cane was across his lap. His face was turned toward the window, toward the dark backyard.

He did not look at me.

He just said, You heard that.

It was not a question.

I said yes.

He nodded. Then he said something that made my chest ache.

I am trying so hard to give you what you need. But I keep getting it wrong.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to throw the red dress in his face and walk out the door.

Instead, I walked into the guest room. I knelt in front of his chair. I took his hands.

I said I did not know what I needed.

He looked at me then. His eyes were wet.

He said that was the most honest thing I had said in two years.

We stayed like that, holding hands in the dark, while the house settled around us.

And somewhere outside, Eli sat alone in the backyard, waiting for a love he had been denied for four years.

And somewhere in the kitchen, Luca poured himself another glass of wine and smiled at the ceiling.

The night was not over.

And I still did not know what I was going to do.