Anniversary Cheat

We talked about Jeff for a while. They had married out of high school; he had enlisted, and she had gone to nursing school. Marie had been conceived on his last leave before he was killed.

"He never got to hold Marie," Mary said, tearing up for the first time. I tried to imagine that kind of sorrow, and couldn't. I changed the subject. I asked her how she'd met my ex.

"Oh, thank you for asking that. I need to talk with you about that without Matt in the room, because he's very sensitive about it. That's why I had so much trouble getting him to agree to having you over, but it's also why I insisted on it. His being out of the room when I told you was our compromise." She took a deep breath. Her face was grave.

"Lucie, there's no easy way to tell you this. I was working Emergency the night they brought Matt in. He had attempted suicide – over what you did to him."

I started to splutter something or other in my defense.

"Lucie, neither of us is angry with you. I'll admit I was at first, but I'm over that now. What's done is done; my calling you every name in the book won't change it. Besides, I've never been in your situation, so I don't know if I'd act any better than you did, so I can't really criticize. But I want to ask you for something, while it's just us.

"I'm sure you knew how deeply what you did would hurt Matt. He'll always have scars from it. But it would mean a lot to him – it would help him heal – if you could honestly tell him you're sorry. No details, no explanations, just you're sorry that you hurt him. If you feel you can do it."

"So why are you asking me this? Why isn't he asking me, himself?" I was suddenly, irrationally irritated at this calm, cool, upright, butter-won't-melt-in-her-mouth woman who attempted to meddle in my passions. She gave me a gentle smile, in which even unperceptive I could see the strength of her love for her husband, and her determination to protect him. That smile answered my question before she said a word.

"He wouldn't, because he doesn't trust himself to. And I will, because it will help him have closure and be at peace." She thought for a moment.

"Do you know, Jeff – my tough, man's man Marine husband – introduced me to opera?" I must have goggled a bit; this woman I had always thought of as quite ordinary was full of surprises. She laughed her with-you-not-at-you laugh again.

"He did, and now I have Matt and Marie on board, too. Anyway, there's an aria in Mozart's Don Giovanni, where the tenor sings, 'My peace depends on yours; your trouble breaks my heart.' That's how Matt and I are, Lucie. And I will dare anything for his peace." There was steel in her words.

We both sat thinking for a moment, she with that sweet but determined smile, me busy with my thoughts. Did I – could I – regret all the great sex with Brandon and the others? Could I be sorry for the excitement of it all? No, I could not. I might have moved on, but truthfully, I enjoyed all of it, and given the chance to go back, I knew I would do it all over again.

Then I thought of my new life. I was getting ahead with my brains, I had plenty of money, I was getting sex when I troubled to go looking for it. What more could I want? Mr. Faithful's words came back to me: "I wish one thing for you. I wish you someone who will love you, whom you will love enough that you will never need anyone else. It's the best thing on earth, and it's worth doing anything – or forgoing anything – to keep." My ex – Matt's – voice came then: "I believe this will be the undoing of us. Please don't do this to us." My traitorous eyes started to tear up. Yes, the sex had been great, and I enjoyed it: but I paid too much for it. Worse, I paid for it out of our joint account, if you will: I spent his love to buy my – OK, say the word – lust. And for that, I was truly sorry.

I couldn't speak, so I nodded to Mary. She smiled at me, and I knew I had done the right thing.

The moment was broken when Marie entered, freshly-scrubbed and in her PJs. She was adorable. She ran to me with a beaming smile, threw her arms around me, jumped into my lap, and told me in a breathless rush how glad she was I had come to her house. Matt, taking a seat next to Mary, reminded her that we didn't jump on guests. Recalled to herself, she was about to get off me. Suddenly, I couldn't bear for her to go. I put my arms around her and held her close.

"Please, can she stay here, just for a little while?" I asked, sounding rather child-like myself. Matt nodded; Mary smiled, and Marie snuggled in. We four talked easily about nothing consequential until I had to give her up; it was an eight year old's bedtime. Standing straight and tall as she could (she would be tall like her mother), she extended her hand to me.

"Thank you for coming to visit, Miss Lucie. I enjoyed it very much, and I hope to see you again soon. Good night." We shook hands and she trotted off with Matt. She turned and waved at me before she went out of sight. My eyes, damn them, were misty. Worse yet, Mary noticed. I got the feeling she didn't miss much.

"You know, she really does like you. She almost never opens up that much for strangers. And she really meant it about hoping to see you again, it wasn't just being polite."

"Yes, I could tell. She's a – remarkable girl." I knew that wasn't the right word, but it was the best I could do just then. What did I know about eight year olds, anyway?

Mary became pensive. "She's very empathetic. I worry about her sometimes: she can sense when someone has a hidden hurt, and she just has to make it better." She smiled wistfully. "I'm not sure I like where that could lead when she's older, but she is who she is: I don't think I'd change her, even if I could.

"There's only one other person to whom Marie reacted as strongly as she did to you."

"Who was it?" The question was out before I could stop it. Marie just looked at me and smiled.

"Oh," I said. "That was a silly question, wasn't it?" Matt came into the living room as my blush was fading, but he didn't see it. His eyes met Mary's, just like they had several times that evening. I remembered what Mary had said about their being each other's peace. I believed it. Their look had music in it: I wondered how the tune went. Opera, huh? It just goes to show you.

Matt started to say something, but I interrupted him.

"Matt, there's something I need to say to you, and I need to get it out before I lose my nerve."

He smiled just a touch, I think the idea that there was something for which I might lose my nerve amused him.

"Matt, the things I did while we were married, especially that last day." Come on, girl, at least talk in complete sentences. "I knew they would hurt you when I did them. And I did them anyway. I didn't set out to hurt you, truly I didn't. I just selfishly didn't care. Maybe that's even worse, I don't know. No one's ever hurt me that badly. But I – that is, we – you – you were such a good – " He was looking at me calmly, acceptingly, almost encouragingly. I lost my train of thought and finally blurted it out.

"You didn't deserve what I did to you, and I'm ashamed of my selfishness, and I'm sorry. OK?" I promptly started bawling. I don't mean grief-stricken weeping, I don't mean tears of regret, I mean little girl fell off her bike and skinned her knee bawling. I thought of perfect little Miss Marie, who (if she fell off her bike at all) would probably pick herself up, brush herself off, and say "Oh, bother" or something like that and get back on the bike. I bawled harder.

Matt was on one side of me, Mary on the other, holding me. A streak of blue PJs and long brown hair bolted down the hallway and flung herself into my lap. She wound both arms around my neck as tightly as she could, dampened the front of my shirt with her tears, and kept saying, "Don't cry, Miss Lucie. You're with us now. Please don't cry." Empathetic? yes, I guess you could say that.

When we were all cried out, Marie remembered that she was supposed to be in bed, and asked me to come tuck her in. Awkward. But her arms were still around my neck, so if she was going, I was going, and her parents didn't seem to mind. She stretched out her hand to Matt as we left, so he came too. He was on one side and I on the other as we pulled the blankets over the little girl, who was already mostly asleep, with an angelic smile on her face. For a brief moment, I thought that Matt and I might have been tucking in our own little girl, had things gone differently. But no.

"I'm so sorry I lost it there. It just – " I couldn't finish the sentence because I didn't know just what 'it' was. Matt smiled at me from his place next to Mary.

"Lucie, what you did took a lot of courage. I accept your apology, and admire you for offering it. I forgive you."

I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. A hug? a handshake? a sincere look across the living room? Mary filled the awkward silence.

"And you're welcome here any time." A shadow crossed Matt's face. I don't think they had discussed this beforehand and I could see Matt had some concerns. But I was betting that Mary would get her way, especially since most of his concerns were probably for her feelings anyway. After all, when we were married, most of his concerns were about me.

It wasn't late when I got back to my condo. I had half-planned that if this evening didn't go well, I would still have time to change clothes, head out, and get laid. Instead, I plumped myself down in my comfy chair. I was exhausted – it had been a pretty emotional evening – but there was something warm that made the corners of my mouth go up instead of down. I thought about it, and finally realized: those three people actually cared about me. I couldn't really do anything for them – frankly, my apology did more for me that it did for Matt, and I'm pretty sure he and Mary had known it would all along. And most wives would see – OK, let's face it, a hotter, sexier ex-wife – as a threat. Not Mary. She was serenely untroubled. She wasn't stupid or naive, far from it. I'd never in my life been secure enough in a relationship – even with Matt – to have done what she did, as gracefully as she did it. What made her so secure?

I was no closer to an answer a week or so later when I picked up my phone to hear a carefully poised, adult-sounding voice that could only belong to a certain eight year old. I felt my mouth turning up at the corners and my heart warming in spite of myself.

"Mom and Dad are having some neighbors over for a barbecue on Saturday, and they said I could invite you. Would you like to come? ... please?"

"I would love to come, Marie." I mean, what else could I possibly have said? I had no real desire to see Matt and Mary again, much less meet their neighbors, but Marie had her heart set on it, and disappointing that little girl just was not an option.

"SHE SAID YES!" I think I'd have heard her shout from across town without the aid of the telephone. Still, how long had it been since anyone, whatever their age, had been that excited about my company?

"Please ask your Mom what I should bring," I asked, when I had recovered some of my hearing.

"Mom says you don't need to bring anything, just yourself. We'll eat at 6:00, but people will start arriving about 5." Marie had recovered her poise, but you could still hear the excitement in her voice. We said good bye and see you then, and hung up.

I decided that if my previous visit to Matt and Mary's had been about what I had lost by driving Matt away, this one would be about what he gave up when he walked out on Brandon and me. I was going to get some pride back. I know, I was being selfish. So sue me. The tricky question was how to do it.

I knew I could easily out-hot Mary, but I also knew that would play straight into her demure little hands. I was subtle. Understated makeup, button-down blouse worn loose outside my mid-thigh walking shorts, and low-heeled sandals wouldn't attract attention, but anyone who paid attention would know I had what it took. And Matt had always been one to pay attention.

I arrived about 5:30 to a polite but clearly sincere welcome from Marie. She brought me a drink (root beer – she remembered!), chatted a while, then excused herself to attend to "her guests." I watched as she made each of the neighbor children feel welcome and at home, simply and confidently, like a seasoned hostess. I had to smile.

Matt and Mary greeted me warmly, introduced me around, then went back to the grill and the salad trays, respectively. If you've been paying attention, you know I'm expert at flirting. I can do it hard or soft, obvious or subtle, one-on-one or in a group. The fact that I hadn't played the game seriously in a while didn't mean I had forgotten how. It didn't take me long before I had the husbands hanging on my every word, hoping for a greener light, while their wives had me in the "pretty and nice enough but no threat" class. Perfect – except for one little thing.

Do you remember the picnic scene in 'Gone with the Wind' where Scarlett is trying to get Ashley to notice her, and she ends up with the attention of every man in the place except him, and he only has eyes for Melanie? Well, that was us. Matt only had eyes for Mary, and they both looked like they knew exactly what I was doing. Worse yet, they didn't mind. How humiliating!

As if on cue, Rhett Butler showed up. OK, he didn't have a mustache and his hair was sort of dirty blond, but it was straight out of the movie. All he had to do was walk into the back yard, and everyone knew he was there. The husbands (except Matt) stayed a little closer to their wives, some of whom got that embarrassed look that said they knew him better than their husbands thought they did. They were rewarded with a little grin that might have seemed like boyish charm if you ignored the wolfish leer in his eyes. The only people who greeted him with equanimity were Matt and Mary, to whom he was quietly respectful. Then he looked at me. I swear, it was just like Brandon. If it weren't for the good smells from the grill, everyone nearby would have known that my poor little thong had just gotten soaked. Of course, the bastard made a beeline for me.

"Luke Walters," he said, holding out a powerful, oh-so-masculine looking hand.

"Lucie," I replied – no need for details. "And what brings you here, unattached?"

"Pretty women, of course. What else?" He looked me up and down arrogantly, as if to satisfy himself that I was worth his time. He knew it made me wet, damn him.

We were interrupted by the call to dinner.

"You're going to enjoy this," Luke said, taking my arm and steering me toward the table, taking the opportunity to rub his knuckles on the side of my breast, and grinning like a naughty schoolboy as he watched my nipple pop out.

"I was enjoying the smells before you arrived," I said, with a snarky little emphasis on the 'was.' He chuckled.

"Seriously, Matt's a master," he explained. "I've known him for a while, and I'd rather eat here than just about any restaurant in town. And not just for the eye candy, either."

Luke was about to seat me (and of course, look down my shirt) when Marie came up to us. She was a little out of breath from playing, but perfectly poised nonetheless.

"Pardon me, Miss Lucie, but Mom said I could sit next to you if it's OK with you."

"Thank you, Marie, I'd love to. Where are we sitting?" I smiled sunnily at Luke's discomfiture.

Marie was excited to be at the grown-ups table, and determined to prove she belonged there. Her manners were perfect, her conversation was engaging, and she actually listened, too. Bless her heart, she even had a fresh root beer poured on ice ready for me. And the meal was every bit as good as Luke said it would be.

"Is there someone you really want to be like when you grow up?" I asked her. I loved hearing her talk, and I really was curious.

"Mom, of course," she answered quickly, then thought a moment. "Actually, maybe mostly Mom and some Dad. I'm so lucky to have them both. I know I'll meet other nice people, like you, but Mom and Dad will always be my heroes."

Heroes. Had I ever had a hero? What would I do with one if I did? I was lost in thought until I felt the lightest touch on my forearm.

"I'm sorry, Miss Lucie, I didn't mean to make you sad." She meant it, too, the little dear, and it was all I could do not to give her a squeeze right there. I restrained myself: it would have made her feel like a little kid, and that would be just wrong. So we talked about what she would like to do when she grew up. She pointed to her Mom.

"She's always quiet, and never looks like she's hurrying. But she's always where she needs to be, and everything's always better when she's around. That's how I want to be."

Wow. I looked her in the eye and told her I was betting on her. The smile I got in return was enough to light up a room, and keep it warm, too.

Marie smiled at me and excused herself after dinner. "I'm sorry, I need to attend to my guests. It was wonderful to talk with you." It was charming, and I really believed that she would rather have stayed with me, but had her obligations. I watched her wistfully for a few moments as she played hostess, until a strong male hand took me by the elbow.

"Are you about ready for some adult conversation?" Of course Luke was speaking right into my ear with that tingly rumble that goes straight to a girl's pussy, and doing that thing with his knuckles against my boob that made me wish I'd worn a more substantial bra.

"Ha! That eight year old has better manners and conversation than I do – or certain other adults I could name." I smiled my most innocent smile, and tried to camouflage the "take me!" signs my nipples and pussy were busily hanging out for him.

"Just wait until she's old enough to flirt." We both laughed, as I allowed him to lead me to a little bench.

We hadn't been talking long when Marie presented herself.

"Excuse me, Mr. Walters." I couldn't read the expression she gave him, but it certainly didn't contain the warmth with which she then looked at me.

"Miss Lucie, I'd like to take the other kids to the park that's a couple of blocks from here, but Mom and Dad say I need an adult with me. Would you please come with us? You wouldn't have to chaperon or anything, just be there in case something happens. Could you help me, please?"

If I didn't know better, I'd have thought Marie was trying to save me from Luke. Looking at those clear, candid child-woman eyes, I decided I rather wanted to be saved, so I agreed.

"I've heard of hiding behind a skirt before, but this..." Luke spoke softly, for my ears only, but the brief flash in Marie's eyes showed she wasn't fooled a bit. Remind me not to try to put one over on that girl, I thought.

Marie was right; the kids behaved for her, and the park was fun. I even did something I've never done before: I pushed a child in a swing. How many other simple pleasures had I missed out on, while I pursued a brilliant career and hot sex? As I was pondering this, Luke walked up to me. I stood and smiled at him: never let them think they've gotten the best of you.

"I'm heading home, so I won't have another opportunity tonight to give you this." He held a piece of paper toward me with his name and phone number on it, but before I could either take it or reject it, he reached around me and stuffed it into the back pocket of my shorts, groping and squeezing my ass as he did so. I jumped and squeaked a little.

"There. That's not going anywhere," he laughed. "I'd better go before Little Miss Muffet gives me the evil eye." He laughed again, gave me one last melting (for my pussy, anyway) look, and walked away. Marie was indeed looking at Luke. I could tell what her look said, now: "She's my friend, and don't you dare hurt her." Marie watched Luke out of sight, then ran to me, gave me a big bear hug, and ran back to her guests, all without saying a word.