SECRET Revealed (29 page)

“I can’t get anything right,” he muttered.

I changed the subject, to give time for my nerves to settle. “So, Dell tells me the Poulet Marengo special was a big hit last night.”

“Yes! And we tried it with the black-and-white quinoa. Great idea.”

“That was Claire’s,” Dell announced, just as Claire entered the kitchen.

“Nice idea, kiddo, the quinoa,” Will said as she beamed, dropping off more dirty dishes.

Dell nodded at her and she skipped back into the Café with a new lightness. She seemed to be coming out of the darkest part of the tunnel.

“Well, it was an incredible dish, Dell.”

She had the same reaction to praise as she did to criticism, which was none.

Will continued. “So, um, Cassie … do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about … something important that has to do with … something important.”

Dell looked up from her blanching, but only to stare straight ahead at the tiled wall as though to say,
Jesus Christ, please take this outside, whatever it is
.

“Be right back, Dell.”

I wiped my hands on my apron and followed Will out of the kitchen, my heart pounding.
Be cool, be cool, be cool
. Once in the office, he shut the door behind us.

“I’m sure you know what this is about.”

“I do,” I said, as evenly as possible.

“Matilda called me this morning. I was … I am glad. I’m flattered. I’m not sure what to say. But I really, really need to know—are you
sure
you’re okay with this?”

I nodded before speaking, trying to give myself time to knock the words loose.

“Yeah. For sure. Totally okay with it.”

“Because I told Matilda if you had a problem with this, I would
never—
”

“Why would I have a problem with this?”
Did that come out too fast? That came out too fast
.

“I don’t know. I mean, you said so yourself, you know, it’s just sex. It doesn’t have to
mean
anything.”

“Right.”

“So. No problem then?”

“Nope. I’m happy for you, Will. It’s fun and you’ll get to see what I’ve been saying all along, that S.E.C.R.E.T. helps people. It helps women. And I think you’re doing a very good thing. For a very … good woman.”

“Yes. Thanks. Good.”

“So. Ah. Did she … also tell you who would be training you?”

“Yes. She did.”

“And are you okay with that?”
Here it comes. Here’s where he rejects me and I die a thousand deaths
.

“Yeah. Totally. As long as
you’re
okay with it.”

“Well, I had to be okay with it. No one else wanted to,” I said, laughing at my own stupid joke, not understanding its harm until I watched Will’s entire face fall.

“No. No-no-no! Will.
Jesus
, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean no one wanted to have sex with you. I mean, everyone
voted
for you. They all
would
have volunteered. But they just felt that you and I … that maybe it would be best if I were the one who … Will, they’re my
friends
.”

He looked at me seriously. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Cassie? I mean we have a
business
together!”

“Well, if you think having sex with me again would jeopardize our business, then by all means, we don’t have to do it! It’s not like you signed a contract or anything. It’s just sex.”

“Yeah. It’s just sex.”

He stood there biting his bottom lip in deep consternation. Hands behind my back, I began to pace like Nixon, each of us waiting for the other one to speak first.

“Look,” I said at last. “I’m a grown-up. You’re a grown-up. And it’s not like we’ve never
had
sex.”

“True. True. You’re right,” he said. “Tell you the truth, Cass. Knowing it was you took some of the performance anxiety away. Someone I trust. Someone who knows me. I can hear it from you, you know—criticism, or direction, or whatever.”

“Yes. That’s what I thought. Right?”

“Have you told your boyfriend?”

“Jesse’s not my … we don’t have … he’ll be cool with it.”

“So you haven’t told him yet?”

It was barely detectable. And if you didn’t know Will Foret, well, you wouldn’t have picked up on that bit of joy he was taking out of imagining Jesse’s reaction when I told him I’d be training Will for a sex fantasy. Maybe that’s what this was really about—a competition between two men, one of whom wanted to prove himself to the other. Maybe Will just wanted to show Jesse he was a better S.E.C.R.E.T. swordsman, that given a chance he’d have punched Pierre Castille at that stupid soirée many months ago.

And as much as I hated to admit it (even to myself), I was secretly happy to act as judge.

Will easily passed the physical and psychological tests, and Matilda gave us the go-ahead to book our training. We joined our calendars and found a time that worked for both of us, which, naturally, was a Monday night, the night Cassie’s was closed.

“Good for you?” he asked, punching in the appointment.

“Good for me,” I said.

“Good,” he replied.

“Good!” I said. “See you at the Mansion at eight.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“We arrive separately. My call time’s earlier.”

“Good. Right,” he said. “You’re the trainer.”

“I am.”

We were like that for the days leading up to that night—curt, polite. But when I finally told Jesse over a greasy dinner at Coop’s, he visibly squirmed in his chair.

“Why’s it gotta be you?” he said, dragging his restless hands to his temples.

“No one else wanted to. And besides, it’s just sex, Jesse.”

“Sex with your ex. I know a bit of what
that’s
like.”

I began to pick at his fries. I wondered if other owners of fine dining establishments craved diner fare or cheap takeout on nights off.

“It’s not like it’ll be our first trip to the rodeo, Jesse. Besides, I’m just going to give him a few pointers.”

“What’s the scenario?”

“I don’t know yet. I find out tomorrow. But you know I can’t tell you. Discretion, remember.”

Funny to think that I’d once had no sex life. And even the one I had with my husband was almost nonexistent. Now, sex was a big part of my life. I guess that was progress. I guess that was the point of all this. I shook off my shoe. Then, discreetly under the table, I lifted my foot to rest between Jesse’s legs. He adjusted it so my toes curled over his zipper. On cue, I could feel him get hard.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said, signaling for the bill.

We drove to my place, both of us silent. By the time we reached the door to my apartment, my shirt was shoved up, my bra askew. Inside, he closed the door and turned me around, lowering me to my hands and knees, while he wrestled his jeans down. Once, twice, I tried to turn around to face him, but he resisted, preferring to take me like that, bent and arched, my knees on the hardwood, my hands clutching the fringe of the area rug, pulling it towards me as I felt his mouth exploring all my darkest places, his fingers digging into me. He was growling and impatient, furious at the condom interruption, and then at my excoriations for him to be quiet, to slow down, to let me turn around.

“The sisters,” I whispered, “they can hear us.”

“Fuck the sisters,” he hissed.

“Stop. My knee. Wait,” I said, the moment bursting like a pricked balloon.

He stopped, exhaling loudly before collapsing onto the floor next to me.

“What are we doing?” he said, the palms of his hands pressing into his eye sockets.

I rolled onto my back, my jeans and panties still wrapped around one of my ankles, my shirt still shoved up. I had never really seen the ceiling from this angle. Was I looking at new cracks, or had those been there the whole time and I just hadn’t noticed them before?

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe this part of our relationship … maybe it’s done.”

He rolled onto an elbow to look at me, his eyes smiling.

“I think you might be right.”

“What do you think happened?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, we had something, didn’t we?”

“We did. We do. But maybe it’s not enough to conquer what we had … with other people,” he said, caressing my face.

He was talking about Will without really talking about Will. I had no reply. Funny, when things run their course there’s no fight left, no questions unanswered, no resentments. There was just this lovely release.

He pulled on his jeans and did up his belt, crouching down in front of me so our eyes were even.

“We are good friends,” he said, as though newly noticing something new and interesting about me.

“Always,” I said, smiling.

He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. “S.E.C.R.E.T. makes some damn good women,” he said.

As he stood up and left, closing the door behind him, I fell back onto the floor, throwing my arms wide, blinking
into the living room ceiling for a few minutes. Dixie padded over to me, tapping her nose on mine. When she realized I was perfectly happy lying there, completely surrendered, she curled into my armpit and went to sleep.

Whenever I felt like I was in the middle of a transition, unsure of my next step, I did what I always did, what always worked. That night I got up off the floor, took a hot shower and made the hour-long trek across the city to the Coach House to talk to the one person who knew me well, who would know what to do, who’d always tell me the truth: Matilda. My training session with Will was a few days away. I needed to go into it with a clear head and an uncluttered heart.

It was late, almost nine o’clock, but sure enough the lights were on in Matilda’s office, though it was odd to see the red door ajar. I stepped inside, preparing to scold her for leaving it unlocked. The Garden District was a pretty safe neighborhood, but still. I heard a male voice coming from inside her office. This wasn’t terribly odd. Though training always happened at the Mansion, we interviewed and tested recruits here all the time, well into the night. A few steps closer and I could make out Matilda’s voice sounding more emotional than I think I’d ever heard her. I was about to make myself known when I heard the male voice speaking again, this time loud enough for me to recognize that it was Jesse.

Make yourself known, Cassie. Now’s the time
. But my feet felt suddenly welded to the oak floors. I was trapped between two horrible options. If I left now, I’d risk getting caught running away. If I stayed, I might hear something not meant for my ears. By the time I heard Jesse yell with genuine ache in his voice, “Of
course
I adore her! But it’s
you
I love,” it was too late.

“Why won’t you just let me in?” he continued. “I don’t care about age, for fuck’s sake! How many times do I have to tell you, Matty? I just want to be with you. I miss you. Finn misses you.”

Matty? Finn?
The closest I’d come to meeting Jesse’s son was watching him sleep that night.

“You don’t care about our age difference now, Jesse, but I do.
I
care. When I’m seventy, you’re going to be in your fifties. It’s ludicrous. And I told you I won’t have sex with you so long as you and Cassie are still involved. It’s wrong and unfair. I love you both. In fact, you should not even be here—”

“We’re done. Cassie and me. We’re just friends. That’s all we ever were, really. That’s all we were ever meant to be.”

Before I heard anything else, I quietly, calmly, regained the strength in my legs and staggered out and back to the sidewalk. The facts followed after me.
Jesse adores me. Jesse loves Matilda. Jesse is my friend. Jesse wants to be Matilda’s partner
. I thought back to his drunken little tantrum on Christmas Eve, and of all the ways Matilda had probably thwarted Jesse’s plans to be with her by placing me in their path, hoping I’d go from being an obstacle to a genuine reason they couldn’t be together. I thought of what he’d just said
to me that night, how people from our past were in the way of anything we might have in the future. I was so arrogant to think that Jesse wasn’t carrying around his own burdens. Oh, the hearts we break to avoid heartbreak.