The Ground Rules (5 page)

I feel myself getting closer and closer to another climax.

He can sense I’m almost there. “I want to hear you,” he says, his voice soft. “I want to hear you scream.”

And I let go. I moan louder and louder—louder than I probably should. And I hear the familiar ragged sounds of Gabe’s climax, perfectly timed to mine—he has amazing control.

And at that moment, I think my husband might very well be the greatest lover on the planet.

He leans down and kisses me on the shoulder. “I love you, Ella,” he whispers, like he always does.

I wake up with a smile on my face, and I’m still wearing my dress. Gabe is stretched out next to me. He’s been watching me sleep.

“Stop doing that,” I tell him, laughing. “You know I hate that.”

“But you’re very cute when you sleep.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Last night was quite a night.”

I smile at him. “You know what’s ironic and a little funny?”

“What?” he asks, one brow perked up.

“All night long, you were telling me how you were going to rip my dress off,” I remind him, smiling coyly, “…and here I am the next morning, still wearing it.”

He laughs a little. “But I still showed you a pretty good time, didn’t I?”

“Definitely,” I say, biting my lip.

“I can take it off now if you want,” he offers with that look in his eyes—the man is insatiable.

I’m almost tempted, but giggling and the sweet voices of my girls are in the distance. It won’t be long until we see their faces.

We take the girls to the park and go for lunch. Chloe asks me about our night.

“Did you have fun?”

I smile. “We did. We met some nice people and saw a show.” I almost tell her about Weston and Bridget, but decide not to—they’re already ancient history.

I love spending quality time with my family on Sundays—it’s one of my favorite things to do. But today, I’m not quite there—my head isn’t anyway. I can’t get Weston out of my mind, and I still can’t believe how affected I was by him. I barely know him—he hardly gave me anything—didn’t talk about himself at all.

Then a light bulb goes off.

That’s what it is, I tell myself—he’s still a mystery. If I could just know a little more about him, maybe I could finally get him out of my system.

I start typing his name in the search box. I get as far as “Weston H,” and his name pops up, and I suddenly feel panicked.

And a little creepy.

I am a stalker after all—a cyber-stalker.

I tell myself I’m being ridiculous and close the browser. As I slam my laptop shut, I vow to stop thinking about the guy—he’s just a good looking man I met at a restaurant, for heaven’s sake.

That’s all he is.

A good looking man with the most incredible eyes I have ever seen.

It’s Monday, and I’m so happy to be back at work. I can’t wait to talk to Gwen. Gwen’s my best friend, and a fellow teacher at my school. She teaches sixth grade. She has to deal with attitude and burgeoning hormones, and she still has a smile on her face every minute of the day—she’s fantastic.

My kids seem happy to see me. Lilly, a sweetheart of a girl, with golden curls and bright green eyes, hugs my leg when she sees me.

“Good morning, Lilly. How was your weekend?”

“Great. How was your weekend, Mrs. Mirella?”

“Fantastic,” I say with a smile.
And that’s an understatement,
I almost want to add.

“I like your earrings today.”

“Why, thank you.” The fun thing about kids is they notice
everything
—a new haircut, a new dress, a new necklace. I could be wearing a whole new outfit, and Gabe probably wouldn’t notice.

Lilly is so sweet, and she speaks like she’s just leaped off the pages of a Jane Austen novel—I think it has something to do with her British nanny. But anyway, she’s my favorite.

Today, we’re learning about the four food groups. I’ve brought some grocery store flyers from home, and we’re cutting out various foods and gluing them onto paper plates. The activity teaches them about nutrition and lets them practice their dexterity. Even at this age, kids today don’t get enough manual play—all they seem to do at home is play video games and watch television.

My hands are on the task in front of me, but my brain is full of Weston.

This is getting damn annoying.

I’ll never see you again. Please get out of my head.

When the bell finally rings for lunch, I let Wanda take over. Wanda is great. She’s one of my kids’ moms who volunteers to help out every day for lunch. There was a rumor a while back about her and the principal being a little
too friendly
, but who am I to judge?

I run over to Gwen as soon as I spot her. She looks fabulous, as always, her dark complexion striking against a pale yellow sheath dress. I hug her tightly, my face full of her thick black tresses.

“How was your weekend, sweetie,” she asks, all smiles.

“Mind-blowing,” I gush, my face lit up like a fourth of July display. I can’t wait to dish.

“That good, huh,” she says, a coy smile on her lips.

“It’s really warm today. You wanna eat on the bench outside?” There is no privacy in the lunch room—twenty or so teachers huddled together at small round tables—conversations usually start to mix.

“Sure,” she says as I grab her by the arm—she really has no choice.

I’m thankful it’s a wonderful sunny day…I love the month of May.

As we eat our very bland sandwiches, I tell her all about Saturday night—the restaurant, the fabulous couple we met, and the even more amazing sex. Gwen and I are very close. We share almost everything.

“So was it love at first sight with this man?” she teases, her eyes curious.

“Well, I don’t know about that, Gwen. Let’s just call it lust at first sight. And besides, we are all married, you know…”

She throws a playful, little jab at my shoulder. “Yep. You might want to be careful.”

I smile. “You don’t have to worry. It was a one-time encounter. We’ll never see them again.”

“That’s probably a good thing. Temptation can be tricky, and you wouldn’t want to mess things up with Gabe.”

We sit in silence for a beat, both biting into our sandwiches.

“But…you can’t help how your mind and body react to someone,” she adds knowingly. “Don’t feel guilty about it. It’s cupid’s fault.”

“Cupid really messed up this time. I think he sleeps on the job.”

She laughs, her big toothy smile
almost
brightens my mood.

“But it’s all good,” I reassure her…and myself. “Like I said, I’ll never see him again.” And sadness washes over me…a sadness I hadn’t expected.

My students cheer me up—they always do. No matter what’s bugging me, their energy is almost contagious—everything is new, something to be discovered and studied.

I feel pretty good, and I’ve almost all but forgotten about Weston, when Sylvia, our receptionist, walks into my classroom.

I stand, suddenly curious and concerned. When I see Sylvia in my classroom, it usually means something’s wrong—issues with one of my kids, disciplinary problems, absence, illness, injury, or worse than all that…lice!

But today, Sylvia has a huge smile on her face—it must be something good.

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” she says.

“What?”

“Flowers were delivered for you at the front desk. They’re gorgeous.”

I’m shocked. Gabe and I did have a great date night, but it wasn’t quite worthy of celebratory flowers. Then again, Gabe has sent me flowers before—he’s sweet that way. Although it has been a while. I’m quite excited to see them.

“I was going to bring them over, but Michael doesn’t want them in the classroom…something about kids’ allergies.”

“That’s fine. I’ll fetch them on my way out.”

Michael is our principal, and he’s a little bit of a stickler for rules. Gwen always jokes about him—she says he has a thing for me. I tell her he’s married, and she says, “What does that have to do with
anything?”
Who knows? Perhaps she’s right. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of my husband sending me flowers.

When I finally make it to the front office at the end of the day, my mind is blown away. Sylvia wasn’t exaggerating—the flowers
are
gorgeous. Gabe has outdone himself—a dozen of the most beautiful roses I have ever laid eyes on—lavender. I didn’t even know lavender roses
existed.
But as wonderful as the roses are, the gorgeous vase is what my eyes are drawn too—hand blown glass, a rainbow of colors. I just know I will cherish it for years to come.

“Does Gabe have a brother by chance?” Sylvia jokes. It’s a well-known fact that all the ladies at work think my husband is delicious. And Sylvia is probably the one with the biggest crush.

I laugh as I rip the tiny envelope open.

And as my gaze settles on the small card, my stomach drops.

Love…at…first…sight.

Dear Gabe and Mirella,
We had a wonderful time on Saturday night. We would love to hear from you again.
Weston & Bridget

M
Y
E
YES
G
LANCE
A
T
T
HE
T
ELEPHONE
N
UMBER
on the bottom of the card, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I was not expecting this at all—it’s all so absurd.

“What’s wrong Mirella? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“It’s just…it’s…” I’m at a loss for words.

“Oooh,” Sylvia perks up. “Are the flowers from someone else? Do you have a secret admirer?” she asks, curious. Yes, I’m sure she’d love that. Then, she could tell Gabe all about my torrid secret affair and snatch him right out from under me.

With an uneasy laugh, I explain, “It’s just a wonderful couple Gabe and I met on Saturday night.” I really don’t need her starting some unfounded rumors.

She reads the card and her smile fades. “You must have really made quite the impression.”

Yes…it appears so.

I’ve set the flowers carefully on the floor in front of the passenger seat, and I try not to drive too fast or make sudden turns. The girls are quiet in the back and seem a little tired—Mondays are always hard on them.

The card tucked in my pocket consumes me.
Who wrote it?
The handwriting could be female or male, but the words almost sound like Bridget…But how would she know where to reach me? Well, of course, I did tell Weston where I worked.

I don’t know what to think.

I don’t need this. I don’t need this man in my life.

I realize I’m at a crossroads—this is one of those “big moments.” There’s a fork in the road. If I go one way, my life stays as it is, wonderful and simple. If I choose the other path, my life could possibly get
really
complicated.

I just know it.

But I
really
want to go down that other road…even though I shouldn’t.

I’m sitting at a red light, and I have the sudden urge to rip up the card and throw it out the window. That’s what I should do. It would be so easy—it’s sitting in my jacket pocket.

But I don’t.

“I told you,” Gabe says, all smugness. “The guy wants to fuck you.”

“You don’t know that.”

The girls are sleeping. We’re sitting on our bed. I’m painting my toenails a bright red—I’ve finally decided to pay a little more attention to my feet. “Maybe it was Bridget’s idea. She did seem to have a pretty good time. You guys were chatting away like the best of friends,” I point out, realizing that I’m making a lot of sense. “Weston and I barely spoke, or Bridget and I, for that matter. I would hardly call that ‘a
wonderful
time.’ It was all about you and Bridget.”

As I say the words, I realize I should probably have thrown the card out the car window. I need a flirty, gorgeous supermodel lawyer after my husband like I need a hole in my head.

Fuck.

How could I have been so stupid—this isn’t about Weston and I—this is about Gabe and Bridget.

She
wrote the card.

Panic washes over me. Like I’ve stumbled on a merry-go-round and am spinning out of control. I can’t jump off and can’t stop the damn ride. Suddenly, I don’t want to ever see Weston or Bridget again.

“I really don’t think we should call them,” I say, putting on my best all-business face. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

Gabe seems disappointed. “You don’t think having fun with a cool couple is a good idea?”

Right. I know where he’s going with this—the woman looks like a
Maxim
cover. Gabe always talks me into things. But
not
this time.

“Not
this
couple. Not with the way she was looking at you all night.” If he thinks I hadn’t noticed, he’s sadly mistaken.

He smiles and closes the distance between us. “C’mon…You liked the looks of him too,” he points out as he wraps his arms around my waist. “It could be fun,” he adds, his expression playful.

“You know exactly what fun like that leads to.”

“I’ll behave,” he promises.

“Oh…it’s not you I don’t trust…it’s her.”

“I promise I’ll be good…if you promise to be good too.”

And we both laugh a little.

Maybe I’m being a little neurotic. I’m always blowing things out of proportion. I’m sure they’re not interested in playing naked Twister together. All we’re talking about is probably a nice dinner out. And Gabe’s right—we are completely anti-social—we need more friends.

Damn, part of me wants this, despite every bone in my body telling me not to.

“I heard about the flowers,” Gwen tells me the first chance she gets. “Sylvia told me all about them.”

Yep…Sylvia has a big mouth. She’s probably told the whole staff.

“They were from that couple you met on Saturday night, right? That gorgeous lust at first sight guy,” she whispers.

I can’t hide anything from Gwen.

“Yes,” I mouth, looking nervously over my shoulder. I’m kind of embarrassed about this silly crush. It is utterly ridiculous—I’m acting like a foolish teenager.

“And they left their number?” she asks, her eyes bright. “Did you call them?”

That Sylvia sure didn’t skimp on the details.

“No,” I say with conviction, “of course not.”

“And I hear they were purple roses. How fun.”

“Lavender actually. I didn’t even know those existed.”

“That’s interesting.” Her brows arch together, in deep thought. “I wonder what that means.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, red roses mean romantic love,” she explains, her big brown eyes staring out into the empty school hall. “And yellow roses mean friendship. But I have no clue what lavender roses mean.”

“I don’t either.” I’d never thought about a hidden meaning in the flowers. But now I’m curious.

“We are
so
Googling this,” she shrills.

“Uh…I was kind of hoping to eat my lunch.”

She drags me by the arm. Our heels click loudly against the tiled floor. “This is way more important than sustenance, sweetie.”

I stand there, chomping on my wrap, admitting to myself the truth—we are shameless—acting like giddy junior high girls. Gwen is definitely guiltier than I am. She’s even bouncing up and down a little on her chair, her long tresses dancing. She types in “lavender roses meaning,” and in no time, she finds what she’s looking for.

“Oh…my…God,” she whispers, in slow motion. She turns to me, slack-jawed “Love…at…first…sight.” Her words are carefully measured. “That’s what it means.”

My breath catches. My heart pounds. I feel my face flush. “It…d-does not,” I struggle to say as my eyes devour the screen.

“I wonder if they have any clue what they just sent you,” Gwen says, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Most people don’t realize that colors have special significance when it comes to roses.”

“You’re right. Probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s most likely just a coincidence. I’m sure they just like lavender,” I add, not quite convincing myself. “I told you he was wearing a purple shirt and tie.” This makes it too real. This needs to be a coincidence. A silly one-sided crush is one thing, but a strong mutual attraction is another altogether. This spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

Gwen turns to me, wide-eyed. “Are you going to call them?”

I can’t. I just can’t.

“God, I want to,” I confess. “But what about the whole ‘I shouldn’t mess up what I’ve got going with Gabe’ thing?” I ask, almost pleading her to talk some sense into me and convince me to do the right thing. “I shouldn’t, right?”

She bites her lip, pondering my question for a beat. “Yep, you should probably just ignore the flowers,” she finally says. “But jeez, that’s going to be practically impossible. I know you…”

“You’re right.”

She twirls a lock of hair and perks up. “But then again…we’re probably just talking about dinner here. They’re married…you’re married. But…you
could
be playing with fire…you just never really know with these things.”

I start to wonder if Gwen is living vicariously through me. She wants to see where this goes. It’s her own little live-action soap opera. But unfortunately, soap operas always have drama, and the last thing I need in my life is drama.

“So you think I should throw out the card?” I ask, still convinced that if anyone can steer me in the right direction, it’s probably her. She truly wants the best for me—she’s my best friend.

“Yep, I think so,” she says, turning to the screen. “That’s what you should do, sweetie.” But then, she turns to face me again. “But one thing I do know is,” she says, her voice soft. “You’ll always wonder if you don’t call.”

She’s absolutely right.

“Let’s do it,” I tell Gabe as soon as he gets home from work. “Let’s call them.” As I’m saying the words out loud, I feel like I’m jumping into a cold lake in the middle of October. I can’t help but wonder if I’m crazy.

“Are you sure?” he asks, a grin stretched across his face. He’s into this as much as I am.

I tell myself I’m being way too dramatic—I’ve been reading too much into things. We’ll probably get together and share a lovely meal. And once the initial attraction fades, we’ll get to know each other and become great friends.

“Why not? We always complain we don’t have enough couple friends.”

“That’s true. Are you calling them tonight?” he asks, hanging his jacket.

I’m putting the final touches on supper—spaghetti and meatballs and a garden salad. “Later tonight, after we put the girls to bed.”

Claire and Chloe are sitting at the kitchen table, drawing on blank sheets of paper. Gabe walks over to them and kisses them both on the tops of their heads. “I know two little girls who are going to bed early tonight,” he teases, with that mischievous smile I love so much.

“We are not,” Chloe says with conviction. “No way.”

“Yeah, we are
not
,” Claire echoes her big sister.

I laugh a little—there’s no way these two are going to bed early.

Gabe and I are simply going to have to wait to see how this little soap opera pans out.