Secret Shared

I took a deep breath. “Nine. Including you.”

“Including me. And how many this year? Do you, like, try to double that number? Is that how it works?”

“No, there’s so much more to it than that. It’s not about numbers. You’re making it sound—”

“How many men? Do you get a little charm for each guy? Is that how it works? Collect all ten?”

I slid my bracelet, my beautiful bracelet, behind my back, catching it on my black satin dress, which minutes ago had felt so sexy against my skin and now felt skimpy, wanton. I heard a voice down the hall, one tinged with kindness.

“Are you okay, Cassie?”

At the end of the dim hall, I made out Jesse’s silhouette. He stepped closer to us and into the light.

“Oh hey!” said Will. “It’s coffee guy with the excellent left hook! Which one was he, Cassie? Was he from this year’s roster or was he last year’s model? Did you two swing from chandeliers? Something tells me no. Ropes and chains, I bet.”

“Will, stop it.”

“Or maybe you’re into having him spank you.”

“Will!”

“Hey, listen, man,” Jesse said, his hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t mean to interrupt a personal discussion. I’m just a friend coming to see if she’s all right.”

“I bet you did. Cassie, you interested in going home with your fantasy friend here, or plain old me?” His voice cracked. “A guy who never fucking knows when he’s being played for a complete chump.”

He gave his head a vigorous shake and shoved his hair back in the way he does when words need his hands’ help to come out.

“Will, I’m sorry you heard about it like this. And I know this is a lot to process, but here’s the truth that matters most: I love you. And I’m sorry I never told you everything before, but I was worried you’d react like this,” I said, realizing I was probably hurting Jesse in the process of trying to comfort Will.

“Know what? Before I say something I regret or that I don’t mean, I’m out of here. Because this … this is all a bit too freaky-deaky for me. I’m just a regular guy, who likes sex with regular women, nothing too weird or out there. No big group thing. Sorry to disappoint, Cassie, but it’s probably best I tell you now that I’d bore the shit out of you. So I’d prefer it if we keep things strictly professional between us from now on, okay? That way what you do after hours is your own fucking business. Because me? I have had enough bedroom drama to last me a fucking lifetime. So, enjoy yourselves. Enjoy each other, for all I care.”

“Will!” I yelled as he walked away, Jesse gently holding me back from chasing him.

“It might not be the best time to reason with him, Cassie. Might wanna let him sleep on this.”

I flung my back against the wall, unable to look Jesse in the eye.

“He’ll see it differently after a few days, Cassie. Just give him a bit of time,” he said.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.

“The event was last-minute. Matilda needed a caterer.”

“I didn’t mean … of course you’re here. Thank God you were here. Way to give it to Pierre,” I said. Then it came, a cascade of tears. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. I am so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey. You don’t need to say sorry to me, Cass. You’ve never lied to me,” he said, pulling me in for a tight embrace while I briefly, quietly, cried into the front of his chef whites.

After I stopped shuddering, he handed me a cloth napkin that was dangling from his pocket.

“Here. Let’s get you the fuck out of here.”

And that’s what he did. He carefully walked me through the main hall; the party was loud, in full effect. It was as though no lives had been ruined, no love lost, no secrets revealed. Matilda was in conversation with a journalist, her eyes locking on me as I passed. She reached out a hand, excused herself and came to me.

“Cassie,” she said, gently tugging me by the forearm to speak directly into my ear. “It will be okay. I promise you.”

“No, it won’t, Matilda. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, my tone flat, my expression deadened.

She looked from me to Jesse. “Take good care of her.”

He nodded, his hand at my back, my own arms wrapped around my body like I was one big wound. Jesse held the door open for me and we were both hit with the first fall chill of the year. Silently, we walked down Royal to Saint Louis, where his truck was parked halfway up the block. My body, drained of all emotion, felt like flesh pressed against bone beneath a dress I couldn’t wait to rip off and burn. Will knew my secret and he didn’t want me anymore. I could hardly take the new job at the new restaurant named after me. How would we cope, him knowing what he knew, me feeling how I felt?

Jesse and I didn’t say a word to each other as he drove the narrow streets of the French Quarter, drunk tourists tumbling in front of our slow-moving truck. We crossed Esplanade and Elysian Fields, and pulled up next to the Spinster Hotel on the corner of Mandeville and Chartres, where the Delmonte sisters were still up, no doubt, watching and waiting for me to come home. Would they notice that the man dropping me off was different from the one with whom I had left? And indeed, what did this say about me? It said nothing, I decided. It said that I had accepted help when I needed it the most, and in doing so changed my life. I forged real bonds, including with men, and definitely with the one sitting next to me now, looking at me with soft eyes.

“Here you are. Want me to come up? Make you a cup of tea? Tuck you in? I promise that’s all I’ll do. I know where your head’s at.”

I wanted to say, Yeah, it’s where my heart is, with a very hurt man who left me feeling broken and dirty. A man I loved who I thought loved me, unconditionally. But I was wrong. Of course there were conditions. There are always conditions when it comes to men and women and love and sex. But if for Will to love me like he once did, I’d have to be like the old me, then Will could keep his love. I would never again go back to being that tiny, chaste, timid woman. Never.

I looked at Jesse’s face, his eyes mellow in the dark of the truck’s cab.

“Well? What say you, Miss Robichaud?”

That’s when I felt it; it started behind my belly button and worked its way up, settling around my heart: defiance. The necessary kind, the kind that pushed back on whatever judgment I’d seen in Will’s eyes, a look that had made me feel undesirable, unworthy of love. That wasn’t coming from him; that feeling was in me already, and it was time, time to let all of that go: No more judgment, no more limits and no more shame, Cassie. Starting now.

I turned to Jesse. I turned to face the man who knew my darkest parts, my fears and desires, and wasn’t turning away.

“Actually, I would like it if you came up, Jesse. I’ve had a hell of a night … and I think I could really use a friend tonight.”

He wet his thumb with his tongue and rubbed stray mascara off my cheek.

“Then use me, darlin’,” he said. “Use me.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have several “Committees” to thank, both personal and professional, who’ve help carry my S.E.C.R.E.T.: Susan Gabriele, Lisa LaBorde, Jenn Goodwin, Sarah Durning, Debra Thier, Charlene Donovan, Arlene Dickinson, Vanessa Campion, John Campion, Lee-Anne McAlear, Jim Harris, Meredith Oke, Arwen Humphreys, Joanne Morra, Katrina Onstad, Becki Rose, Steve Erwin and the rest of my family.

Random House and Doubleday Canada: Kristin Cochrane, Brad Martin, Adria Iwasutiak and especially Nita Pronovost, the brains behind this whole operation.

My gals at Gowlings: Susan Abramovitch and Shelagh Carnegie, and Andrew Kay and Marisa De Luca at Kay Warburton.

Random House US: Alexis Washam, Molly Stern, Dyana Messina, Danielle Crabtree, Julie Cepler and Sheila