Stitches by Sam Mariano
1
Sebastian
This is nothow I wanted to end my work day.
This is not how I want to end any day.
I drag the little bar at the bottom of my computer screen backward and hit play one more time, filled to the brim with irritation and dread. I know I wasn’t mistaken. I know what I’m going to see; I just don’t know what the hell to do about it.
The grainy footage shows an attractive blonde woman standing in a hall, a random man pressed right up against her. She fists her hands in the fabric of his T-shirt and looks up at him, her eyes swimming with manufactured conflict—anything to raise the stakes and make the stolen moment more exciting. She wavers, grabs the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss. The man wastes no time, palming her breast over the material of her slinky dress, then hiking her thigh up and pushing between her legs. She moans and tilts her head back, as if in ecstasy.
“We can’t,” she says. It’s so flimsy. It’s not an objection, really, it’s an invitation for him to show her how much he wants her, how nothing could possibly stop him from having her, even if only for a fleeting encounter.
Not even the $27,000 worth of commitment jewelry on her left hand.
Not even her husband.
Luckily, I am not that husband.
Unluckily, my best friend is.
I watch the screen for a another minute, just to verify my mind isn’t playing tricks on me—Ashley did, in fact, let another man fuck her in the hallway of the club her husband and I co-own together, knowing full-well we have security cameras on the place.
This is a fucking disaster.
This is going to crush him into a million tiny pieces that I’m going to have to sweep up.
Five years together and she pulls this shit. Cuckolds my best friend like an asshole. Personally, I never thought this bitch was right for him, but she could at least have the decency to appreciate her good fortune. Griff has gone out of his way for Ashley from the moment he met her—love at first sight, if such a thing ever existed—and she never seems to give anything back.
This isn’t even the first time I’ve had to deal with this shit. The first time was two years ago. She hooked up with a drunken customer after the place closed. I confronted her the next morning and she sobbed, told me it had been a mistake. Me, I don’t believe in that kind of mistake. In the five years I’ve been with Moira, I’ve had more than a few women try tempting me to fuck around on her. I’ve never considered it for a single second.
Ashley has now fucked around on Griff at leasttwice.
I never told him the first time. The knowledge would have crushed him, and if it was really a mistake—even if I don’t believe in that shit—I didn’t want to wreck his life over it. I also didn’t want to be the messenger who delivered that kind of news. I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable fallout.
But now here I sit, reliving the same fucking bullshit. If she’s put me here twice, she’ll put me here a third time; I’m gonna have to tell him.
The office door swings open, and Griff peeks his head inside. Sympathy hits me right in the gut. I hastily stop the video, closing the feed altogether and sitting forward. “You need something?”
Griff gives me a funny look, since I just acted a little like he walked in on me watching porn. “You done yet? We’re supposed to pick up the girls in less than an hour.”
Of course. Motherfucking date night. Our wives didn’t always get along—Ashley is jealous, hilariously enough, and my stunning wife attracts the gaze of any man in the room, married or not. Griff would never cheat, has never admitted to having any kind of attraction to Moira, but I know he does. It’s harmless, but it’s there. It’s not just the long raven locks that cascade down her creamy shoulders, drawing the eye to her magnificent breasts. It’s not her narrow waist and flared hips, or the magnificent ass on that woman. Moira’s got a good heart. She’d give you the shirt off her back, the shoes off her feet. She would open our front door to the sketchiest fucking vagrant and ask them in for a nice, hot shower and a warm meal. She loves and she loves, and she never asks for anything in return.
I shower her with everything, though. She deserves everything.
I’m the luckiest bastard in this city, maybe in the world.
And then there’s Griff, stuck with Ashley—this skank who can’t keep her legs closed despite being married to a man who would do literally anything for her.
Since Griff doesn’t know any of this, he cocks a golden brow and awaits my response.
“Yeah, just give me a minute.”
I watch until he backs out into the hall, closing the door behind him. The I sigh, my head lolling back, and massage the bridge of my nose.
I can’t tell him right now. Ashley needs to be dealt with—I told her last time I wouldn’t cover her ass again—but right now all I can do is go home to my wife and endure what may be the last couples night she’s gonna get.
* * *
Two willowy armsreach for me, locking around my neck and drawing me close. I look into my wife’s beautiful face, her big blue eyes so full of fondness at the sight of me. I know a lot of men, some of them married, but I don’t know any who are lucky enough to come home to their wife of five years and still have her look at them like this. Like because I came home, there is happiness in her life. Because I am hers, she always has a reason to smile.
Interrupting my happiness is the idea of Griff having to see this tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. Normally he rolls his eyes at us. Calls us newlyweds. We still act like it, I guess. I just thought this was what a happy marriage looked like, but he and Ashley have never had this.
Ashley and Moira are mirror opposites. Where Moira is sweet, Ashley has a bitchiness I’ve never found appealing. Griff didn’t see it at first. It didn’t come out until she got comfortable with him. The high of a new relationship makes her soft and excites her, but once she settles into it, she gets bored. She starts looking around at everyone else, wondering why she doesn’t have what they have.
The day I met Moira, everything changed for me and Griff. Me, I don’t believe in any kind of love at first sight, but I can’t deny connection at first sight. When I met Moira she was a waitress at a little coffee house, serving up specialty drinks, bringing out plates full of scones and shit. Frankly, there’s no reason we should’ve met. I wasn’t in the habit of wasting my time in places like that, or my hard-earned money on pricey frozen coffees. I just had to piss, and the establishment she worked at had the “customers only” rule for their bathroom. I bought a muffin, and as I dug some cash out of my wallet, I caught sight of a petite woman with shoulder-length hair, so dark it was nearly black. She knocked an iced coffee off the counter and looked horrified as it fell to the floor and splashed all over the fitted black pants clinging to her shapely legs. Flushing, she bent to pick it up, darting a look up at me.
Something lodged in my gut. I’d been with pretty girls all my adult life, but it wasn’t just her looks. I wasn’t even sure what it was. She quickly stood and shoved the stuff off to the side, shooting me an apologetic smile. “Sorry about your wait; just give me two seconds.” She turned around and washed up at the sink, then came back to fill my muffin order. As she handed it to me, she flashed me a sweet smile. It was the first time I’d ever looked into someone’s eyes and seen pure kindness.
I knew she had a well of it, and to be honest, I am not a particularly kind man. Over the years, I’ve stepped on people and taken advantage, walked right over men and right out on women to build something for myself.
Well, myself and Griff. We’d been a team since we were kids, and that’ll never change. There’s no blood between us, but he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother.
I went back to that little coffee shop four times after that. Moira was only there three of those times, but at the end of that last transaction, as she slid my coffee across the counter and smiled at me, I told her, “I want to take you out.”
Her blue eyes widened with surprise, her kind smile slipping. “Out?”
I nodded once, like I couldn’t afford to waste them. “I’m gonna take you out,” I stated. “What time do you get off tonight?”
She flushed with pleasure and looked down at the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip. It could have agitated her the way I told her we were going out instead of asking, the way I didn’t bother asking if I had any competition, if there might be some poor sap waiting at home for her. I didn’t care if there was. I wanted what I wanted, and if there was anything in my way, it needed to move. I didn’t even ask if she was free tonight, just claimed her time as my own. Plenty of women might take issue with that, but not Moira. She mulled it over for a few seconds, then looked back up at me and finally answered, “I get off at seven.”
Right then I had the slightest hunch she might be made for me. “Then I’ll see you at seven,” I told her, taking my coffee, winking, and walking out.
By the time our first date ended, she had me. She was still dressed from work when I picked her up since I didn’t give her time to change, but she didn’t complain. I took her somewhere simple—I don’t like to take women on fancy first dates; I like to see how they respond when I just take them to a deli or something, only buy them a sandwich that costs a few dollars. Call me paranoid, but there are plenty of money-grabbers out there and I like to filter ‘em out.
Moira didn’t care that I took her to a $12 dinner for the first date I demanded she go on with me. It was my company she enjoyed, my personality she was drawn to, and that was exactly what I wanted.
Moira went on plenty of expensive dates after that. When I asked her to marry me, I spared no expense on the ring. I’m no cheapskate; I just don’t like materialistic user assholes like Ashley Halliwell.
Once Moira and I got together, though, she sort of took over my life. I loved having her around and never wanted to be without her. Griff and I used to hang out every night before Moira, but once I had her, that left Griff alone a lot. Moira didn’t want him to feel excluded, so she’d ask me to invite him over from time to time—she’d make us both dinner, we’d all watch a movie or play a board game. We’d drink together sometimes, and Moira would tell us dirty stories that made Griff get all bashful, since he didn’t think he should be listening to dirty stories my girlfriend made up.
Then he met Ashley, and all of a sudden he was in love. Part of me honestly thinks he was just jealous of what Moira and I had, feeling left out, in need of attention. Ashley filled the void I left in Griff’s life when Moira crept into my heart and took it over.
Now his heart’s going to be broken. Now I have this shit to deal with.
Moira’s forehead creases, her blue eyes clouding over with concern as she looks up at me. “What’s wrong, honey?”
I shake my head. I do want to tell her, but not when we’re about to go out with them. Moira’s a shitty liar. She’s too open, can’t keep a secret to save her life.
I kiss her forehead, tugging her closer and hugging her. “We’ll talk about it later.”
She still looks concerned, but I turn away and head to the closet for a dinner jacket. Moira follows me in, coming up behind me, her hands sliding up my muscular chest. “Tell your wife what’s wrong?”
I smile faintly. “Your tricks won’t work on me, little minx.”
“My tricks always work on you,” she states, letting one of her hands slide down until she’s rubbing my cock.
I catch her wrist in a firm grasp to stop her. “I told you, we’ll talk about it later.”
“But I want to lighten your load now,” she tells me.
“Then why don’t you get on your knees—I’ll give you a load.”
I’m mostly teasing her, but I should know better. Moira slides to the floor in front of me, unbuttoning my slacks and dragging them down. She looks up at me playfully, then frees my cock and takes it into her mouth, eager to please me.
Luckiest bastard in the city, I’m telling you.
Once my wife finishes sucking my cock, I am feeling a lot better. Griff’s problems are still big, but I don’t have to think about them for a few hours. Right now I want to take my wife out and let her have a nice night—she can’t do that if she’s worrying about me the whole time.
It’s easy to let go of my cares when it’s just me and Moira. It gets a little harder when we get to Griff’s house and I see Ashley stroll out in front of him, draped in some expensive fucking designer dress she spent his money on. I’m not a greedy bastard; I worked my ass off to build something for myself so I could enjoy it, and I spare no expense to please my little minx, but she deserves it. She’s loyal and loving, not going behind my back doing things to hurt me.
Meanwhile Ashley cheats on Griff and treats him like an afterthought. She stops outside the car and fiddles around in her purse, waiting until he comes to open the car door for her. He offers her a tepid smile, but she doesn’t return it; she just drops into the car, beaming a fake smile at Moira as she slides in beside her.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey. Ooh, I love your dress,” Moira enthuses, not knowing we’re supposed to be mad at Ashley tonight. I couldn’t muster up a compliment for her right now if my life depended on it, but Moira doesn’t know any better.
I shake my head at her in the rearview mirror. Griff offers a fond smile at Moira, and at least she offers a warm smile back. “Hey, Griff. You look handsome tonight.”
There’s gruff affection in his tone as he greets her back. “Hey, Moira.” Since his wife is less cool about things than I am, he does not offer a compliment back. Moira knows the drill and doesn’t expect one.
“Took you long enough,” Griff tells me, shutting the passenger side door and shifting around in his seat. “You’re slow as fuck today, man. What’s your deal?”
“Sorry. My wife was giving me head,” I say bluntly.
Moira shoots me a look of disbelief, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my God, Sebastian.”
I grin at her unabashedly in the rearview mirror. “What? It’s a good reason.”
“That is a good reason,” Griff admits, glancing out the window instead of at me.
“You little slut,” Ashley jokes.
The fucking gall. She just took a stranger’s cock last night, and she’s teasing my wife for pleasing her husband.
I can’t fucking help myself.
“Well, maybe you and Griff would be in better moods tonight if you’d have sucked his before we picked you guys up.”
Griff looks over at me and scowls. “Relax. It was a fucking joke. Obviously she doesn’t really think Moira is a slut.”
“Jesus,” Ashley huffs. “What’s your problem today?”
You’re my fucking problem, I want to tell her.
I don’t. I turn my attention to the road, avoiding Moira’s look of confusion. She wasn’t really offended. I’m sure she just took it as Ashley joking around. Even if she knew it was more than that, she would shrug it off. Moira hates conflict.
It’s a rough ride to the restaurant. Ashley is in a snit now; Moira is uncomfortable, and Griff seems to think if he looks at me hard enough, he’ll be able to see into my head and figure out what the hell is wrong with me.
It was a mistake to come out tonight. I thought we could have one last night out, but I’m too pissed off at Ashley. I’m pissed off for Griff. I’m pissed off for selfish reasons—this is going to be a fucking mess that I don’t want to deal with. When I tell him, it’s going to break his heart, but I have to. This is the second time I’ve caught her; that doesn’t mean she hasn’t done shit like this other times and just been smarter about it. I keep searching her for some sign she feels guilty, but there’s nothing.
I’ve known for years Ashley needed a lot of attention. She’s insecure about herself—tries to hide it behind bravado and layers of make-up, but she’s missing something inside her. Even though she doesn’t have to, she likes to put on slinky clothes or tight tank tops and sop up the male attention she gets working at the club.
Attention is one thing. Fucking the assholes is another.
Maybe it’s not her fault one man isn’t enough for her, I don’t know. All I know is, if she wanted to fuck someone over, I wish she hadn’t picked my best friend.
Griff doesn’t fall in love easily, but when he does, he really sinks into it. I’ve always known he’s a lifer, since he attached to me and never left my side. It was the same when he fell in love. The first time he’d been young, only 18. Eva, the best friend of a girl I was seeing. He got really attached to her, but she didn’t attach the same way. Cracked his heart wide open, then continued to fuck with him on and off for the next year.
After that, he was strictly casual. Me, I’ve always been pretty casual. I’ve had exactly three serious relationships—Moira is the third, and obviously the last. Other than that, I liked to keep it light. A few months, tops. Once I started feeling bored, I moved on.
Griff and I were busy anyway. We worked our asses off, pooled our money, built everything together. Accountants told us it wasn’t smart, that we should keep our shit more separate than we do, but we knew what we were doing. Griff and I were partners. We were brothers. Whatever we built together, we would enjoy together.
I steal a look over at him now, trying to imagine how I’d feel in his place. I can’t even put myself there, though. Moira would never do something like this. She puts the needs of others ahead of her own, and we’re happy, anyway.
I wish I could just clone her and give one to Griff; she could fix him right up after Ashley’s betrayal slices his heart open.
