Secret Shared

“I do,” I said, closing my eyes. “I promise.”

21 CASSIE

DESPITE THE FACT that Will and I had known each other for the better part of a decade and had seen each other naked (at least three more times since that glorious afternoon, once at his place, once at mine and again on that mattress before he hauled it to the trash when the new chairs arrived), the night he came to fetch me for the S.E.C.R.E.T. event at Latrobe’s was, technically, our first date ever.

The weeks leading up to that fateful night were the happiest I’d ever had in my life. There was no more hiding, no sneaking around. With Tracina away from the restaurant and off building a new life, we were free to start ours, the restaurant turned into our discreet proving ground, a kiss here, an open embrace there, a hot look around every corner. And I didn’t care that Dell rolled her eyes or Claire was a little confused, too young to be a confidante but old enough to know some “heavy adult shit just went down,” as I caught her saying to her friends over smokes in the back.

After he said yes to my invitation, I took Will to the Funky Monkey to buy his first tux and to see Dauphine, so radiant with newfound love herself that it was like looking in a mirror. We kept our overwhelming joy at seeing each other to a normal level in front of Will, saying only that our acquaintance was the result of membership in this women’s group whose formal event we were both attending.

He stood in front of a mirror in the changing area, handsome in his tux, as Dauphine pinned the hem of his pants.

“I’m glad I kept this one,” she said. “It’s too big for Mark. Though I have a feeling even getting that boy in a tux that fits him will be a lot harder than I expect.”

A week later, the night of the event, after a clumsy attempt to assemble the damn bow tie, Will asked why I’d never mentioned I belonged to this charitable organization, especially one flush enough to give away fifteen million dollars.

“Because, it’s a secret. It’s sort of part of the whole schtick, the anonymity, the quiet servitude, that sort of thing. But you’ve seen me with Matilda a thousand times. I wasn’t hiding anything.”

Oh my god, was I becoming a liar? Or more comfortable with the truth? It was becoming difficult to tell the difference.

“But now this group wants the whole city to know it’s giving away millions?”

It was a question I had put to Matilda too, but she said in her experience it was best to hide in plain sight. A donation that big, to that many organizations would hardly remain anonymous, so why not openly celebrate it? And S.E.C.R.E.T., under its other name, desperately needed the tax deduction to keep afloat a little longer.

“If you don’t want anyone to know about your underground group dedicated to female sexual fulfillment and exploration,” she said, “house it in a mansion in the middle of the city. Why? Because no one would believe you even if you told them the truth.”

Absently fastening my charm bracelet to my wrist, forgoing his assistance, I suddenly felt nervous to bring Will to such a strange event. But I trusted the women, especially Matilda, not to blow my secret. Also, it was the last bit of solidarity I could show, before leaving S.E.C.R.E.T., for these women who’d done so much for me and asked for so little in return. I even bought a beautiful black dress for the occasion, a long backless, strappy number, in luscious sateen.

I backed out of my bedroom wearing it, so Will could pull up the zipper—a bad idea. No sooner had he secured his fingers to the clasp than the damn thing was around my ankles and I was being carried, naked again, kicking and screaming to my bed. “Pick up the dress, don’t leave it on the floor like that, Will! It’ll wrinkle! That cost me a fortune!” I laughed as he collapsed on top of me, telling me, “Fuck that dress,” while bunching his own beautifully tailored tuxedo pants down around his ankles, sheathing himself, then entering me sharply enough to stop the giggling altogether. God, the look in his eyes that night, burning and fierce while he drove into me again and again, my head cradled in his strong hands; I never wanted to lose that gaze.

Yet I was also looking forward to a time when just being alone with him didn’t make me want to rip my clothes off. I actually longed in some strange way to be a little bored by all this, for a time when his skin brushing mine in the Cafe wouldn’t make me damp with desire.

It was love, yes, but it was more than that. He was my deepest, closest friend. I felt like he was the only person on the planet (besides Matilda) who really, truly knew me. And now, moving on top of me with the grace of a man who understood my body as well as his own, searching my face, almost studying it, smoothing my hair back and thrusting, thrusting, my nails digging into his skin, his eyes closing, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. I couldn’t remember other men. He pressed my knees back and up, pushing both our limits, mine of exquisite pain, his of pleasure, his body clenched and straining, on the verge of another orgasm that I was giving him, while I tightened and writhed beneath him, finding my perfect spot, until, pleasure undulating through us and over us, we finally brought each other over the edge, calling each other’s name, both our bodies a greedy blur, and we were left gasping and laughing—because that’s what you do when you’re utterly astonished by love.

“Holy hell, Cassie,” he said, lying beside me, clasping my hand until his breathing steadied.

I rose to take a quick shower, but he held my hand down into the bed, rolling up on an elbow next to me.

“You know what? It’s all been worth it.”

“What’s been worth it?”

“All the bullshit of the past year, all that stuff, the lies that kept us apart. It’s been worth it. A few weeks ago I was so fucking angry. I said to myself no more women. I wanted nothing to do with love. I was going to take a good long break. And today, now … now I feel like I’m out of some long tunnel. I feel light. I feel brand-new. Like my faith’s been restored.”

“Me too,” I said, pulling his face in for a kiss.

He fondled my bracelet. “I haven’t seen this on you in a while.”

“I wear it only on special occasions,” I said, letting him examine it, knowing there was nothing to hide anymore.

“So let me get this straight—for every sort of good deed or challenge, or whatever, you get one of these charms?” he asked, reading some of the Steps under his breath, Generosity, Bravery, Trust. “Reminds me of Girl Scouts.”

“Ha. Sort of,” I said, sliding out of bed.

“What kind of charm do you get for having a restaurant named after you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve decided to call the new place Cassie’s. A sign’s going to be delivered tomorrow—and here,” he said, fishing a piece of paper from his jacket, which he’d retrieved from the floor where it was tossed with the rest of our clothes. He presented me with a folded-up prototype of the new menu, Cassie’s printed on a pretty scroll across the top. I gasped, speechless, fat tears falling down my cheeks.

“Are you serious?”

“Never more so,” he said, kissing me.

“I don’t … I can’t … no one has ever …”

“Cassie, just say thank you. And let’s get dressed and get this event over with.”

“I’m not going to say thank you now. I’m going to say thank you later, when I get you back here alone.”

“So I take it we’re not staying late?”

“Hell no.”

We showered, one after the other as my tub was too small for two, and later as he zipped me tenderly into my dress. I felt blessed, and, dare I say it … very loved. Had I known it would be the last time we’d be together, I would never have left that bed or that apartment, and I certainly wouldn’t have washed him off my body so quickly, before slipping back into that beautiful, cursed dress.