Chapter 2

two

DENNIS

“Please, Dennis,” Carmen pleads.

She’s already dressed and ready to go, like I’ve agreed to this outrageous request. My girlfriend is dressed in a white party dress that has cut-outs along the sides. She looks spectacular and I would fuck her except I find I’m exceptionally flaccid, despite how she looks.

My girlfriend of over ten years has suggested that we attend a key party tonight. I have a vague idea of what a key party is, something that has to do with picking a sexual partner based on the key that someone draws from a bowl, but it’s always seemed like something that happens with teenagers on TV or with swingers, not something that occurs in real life between a couple that’s supposed to be together.

We’re supposed to be endgame.

We’ve been saying this since we were in high school, and as other relationships failed to make it out of college, we stayed strong, knowing that our love was meant to be. It’s why she hasn’t been in a rush to move in with me, and why when we talk about marriage, I respect her position that she wants to be established in her career as a paralegal before having to become Mrs. Dennis Mitchell. I would never expect her to drop everything and just become a trophy wife.

If going to this party is what she wants, I’ll honor that.

In the background, a highlights reel is showing snippets from the game I wasn’t allowed to watch while having Thanksgiving with her family yesterday.

No, I was the good future son-in-law. I made sure to compliment her mother’s cooking but never her aunt’s. I made sure Carmen’s wine glass never emptied, and that when her jealous cousin tried to brag about her law degree, I brought up whatever crazy story I could from work. Carmen’s family might frown that I have a blue collar job, but being a deputy in a town with only six cops does have some cachet, I guess.

Which is why I’m confused why Carmen wants to go to this party. I have no problem with other people in established relationships taking that step and welcoming someone else into their bed, but I feel like there should be some sort of transition into swinging. Not just one night springing it on your partner, assuming that they’re all systems go for it.

“Why do you want to do this, Carmen?” I ask, turning off the game so she knows she has my full attention.

With a flounce, she sits on the arm of the couch beside me. “Puppy, we’ve been together for so long. I mean, even when I went to college, you were my only, and I just… If we’re going to take the next steps to being married, I just want to be sure. I feel like we’ve gotten so distant lately.”

My heart feels like it’s frozen in my chest. So maybe things with Carmen haven’t been great lately. For two years, it’s felt like we’ve just been going through the motions of a relationship, and if I’m completely honest with myself, I can’t remember the last time we had sex. There was some clumsy fingering in the bathroom at her cousin’s wedding six months ago, but she pushed me away before I could even come close to getting her off.

Maybe I’ve been spending more days reminding myself of all the reasons I love Carmen instead of having my love for her sitting at the forefront of my mind the way it used to when we were younger.

“Are you not happy?” I ask her, placing my hand on her bare thigh. I hate how she tenses under my touch, so I withdraw it.

“You know I totally love you, but we started dating so young, and I just… I’m sure about us, but I want to be doubly sure.”

“By sleeping with someone else.”

“Yes, and I think it will give some perspective to both of us. I mean, I’m the only woman you’ve ever been with. Just think of all the things you could learn from a more experienced woman.”

My cheeks flush from embarrassment. She’s never complained when we’ve had sex, but she’s also never been particularly enthusiastic when I try to encourage new positions or anything. It’s missionary or reverse cowgirl and that’s it. I’ve never gone down on a woman because every time I try, she just tugs me up and tells me how much more she likes my cock. Only, now she doesn’t even want that.

“We’ve both been each other’s onlys,” I point out.

Quickly, she waves her hands. “No, of course, I know that. I was just pointing out on your end.”

This doesn’t feel like a good idea for both of us. This feels like the very opposite of a good idea, but she’s looking at me with stars in her eyes.

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Yes,” she says in a very measured tone, almost too measured, and I sigh.

“Fine, sure. What time is the party?” I ask, sliding my hand in with hers, but like most of my touches lately, she’s quick to withdraw. I can’t put a finger on why I keep trying. There has to be something I’ve done wrong, some reason she’s pulling away from me physically, and I can’t figure out why. I’ve given everything to our relationship to the point I’ve been told I’m a bit of a tryhard.

“You have one hour to get dressed, and we should take my car. The party is up at Fran?ois’s and your truck will look too out of place.”

Fuck, I hate that guy. He’s always too suave and above any of the parking tickets I give him. The few times he’s come out after I’ve given him a ticket, he just slides a hundred in my pocket and tells me to keep the change on the $30 ticket. Now, I keep a list of local charities I can give the overage to since it happens so often.

I get to my feet and cross my arms. “No, we’re taking my truck or we’re not going. It’s supposed to snow tonight and I haven’t changed your snow tires yet.”

Carmen gets to her feet, and I can see the twitch in her foot from the urge to stomp it that she’s not allowed to drive her white BMW Coupe. Besides the fact that I’m too tall to comfortably fit in it, it’s impractical to drive on the winding road that leads to Fran?ois’s. Even if it doesn’t snow, that doesn’t mean there won’t be black ice.

“Why not?” she demands, and I cross my arms, willing to wait out her tantrum.

“Because every time I’ve asked for your keys so I could take care of it, you’ve been working late, or had brunch, or you were going to visit your mother.”

This seems to stop her dead in her tracks. “Fine. We’ll take your truck. If that’s the case, take your time. I don’t want us to park too close to the front of the house.”

Carmen makes me change four times until she just picks out my nicest suit and tells me not to wear a tie. I feel like a douchebag, but as she runs her fingers through my hair, adding just a little bit of mess to it, I can feel my heart start to race.

It’s not from her touch, and I feel like a bastard for that. It’s from the prospect of what tonight could bring. I’ve always, always been faithful to Carmen. She was always it for me. Yes, she’s always been drop dead gorgeous in this untouchable way, so far out of my league I never understood why she gave me the time, but she’s always been sweet and kind-hearted. She was always the first to volunteer in school and wasn’t one of those mean girls. The age difference between us made me hesitate, but once I graduated, I put a hard limit on doing anything physical until she turned eighteen. It helped that I didn’t go away to college while she was still in school.

But the idea of feeling wanted again is intriguing. There are only so many times a guy can get turned down without feeling like he’s doing something wrong.

I help her up into my truck, which has had its snow tires since Halloween. Thanks to climate change, I never know when the first snow is going to be and I like to be prepared.

The thirty-minute drive up to the house is quiet between us. The exception is Bing Crosby crooning in the background about Christmas. The music at least leaves me feeling warm inside, even if the plans for this evening do not.

I fucking love Christmas, even if Carmen says it’s emasculating. I love everything about it. I love getting to see the joy on people’s faces when they get a thoughtful gift. I love the lights and the decorations and the delight that everyone seems to share in. Evergreen Lake is the perfect Christmas oasis, with our annual festival that parks itself in town with some rides, but more importantly, the stalls of local vendors selling everything from homemade blankets to hot chocolate mixes to custom jewelry.

Some influencer happened on our small town last year and posted about it being an underrated destination. We’ve always had loyal tourists, ones who would rent a car and drive over from the ski resort just outside town. Now, though, I’ve got my best friend, Ben Harper, crashing on my couch for the month of December because he’s renting his house out on one of those rental websites– Spend The Night . The amount of money he’s making from it is unfair. Carmen is livid I’m not charging him for staying over. Whenever I point out that we don’t live together, she shuts up about it real fast.

There are already ten cars here, and as requested, I park near the back of the circular driveway so that no one has to see my truck. Carmen still seems put out over my having driven it. When I help her out of the cab, I try to lean down to kiss her, for some sort of reassurance that we can survive tonight, but she gives me her cheek.

“I don’t want to mess up my lip gloss,” she tells me breezily.

“I love you,” I tell her, but the words feel hollow to me as I say them. When was the last time I really meant it? It makes me sad to think that this relationship has become one of habit, of convenience instead of love. I haven’t brought up marriage for ages, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s because I know. I know that I haven’t loved Carmen for a long time.

“You too,” she replies, her frequent refrain.

When we walk into the party, I feel a million miles out of my league. Everyone is dressed up, and I’m glad that I let Carmen pick my outfit, because if I had come wearing the jeans I originally picked out, I would have been so underdressed they would have assumed I was the help. Which they have, waiters and waitresses walking around with drinks and those stupid little foods on platters.

One of the waiters walks by with a tray full of highball glasses, and I take one and down it like a shot right when Fran?ois walks up to greet us.

“That’s eighty-year-old cognac,” he says as he kisses my girlfriend on the cheek. Once upon a time, a move like that would have made my blood burn with jealousy the way the liquor is burning through me, but instead, I watch impassively like she’s just a friend.

It makes me want to take another drink because realizing a decade-long relationship is over really fucking sucks.

“Then I feel bad for the guys who didn’t drink it eighty years ago,” I say, not seeing the point.

Carmen forces a laugh as she looks up at Fran?ois. “Dennis is just full of jokes. He’s just getting warmed up.”

“Right, first thing’s first: mistletoe, Cammie.” The tall Frenchman points at the little kissing ball that hangs right over where they stand, right where he intercepted Carmen, intentionally, I assume. She glances up and blushes in a way I haven’t seen her do in fuck knows how long. I’m not even a second thought as she rises up on the tips of her toes to meet Fran?ois in a kiss. It’s not a cute little peck but one of fire and heat. She wouldn’t let me kiss her because it might smear her lip gloss, but she’s fine smearing it all over Fran?ois’s face. I can’t even start on his nickname for her, since any time I tried even a pet name, I was told that’s not her name.

I cough, unrelated to the kissing in front of me, but it causes them to break apart all the same. “Come on in and start to mingle,” Fran?ois tells us, resting his hand on Carmen’s hip before sliding it lower and grabbing her ass. I guess this is meant to be a hookup party, so I shouldn’t get mad? I should get mad? Maybe I should have let Carmen drive so I could look up the rules for a key party. “Since I know this is your first time, I’ll give you the rundown. I need your keys first, Dennis.”

Feeling uneasy, I drop my truck key into the bowl offered by a pretty woman. She’s dressed in all black and accepts the offering before melting into the background. I want to put my hands in my pockets, just for something to do. I should be more mad about the kiss, about the ass grab, but every time I reach for that emotion, I find nothing.

“So, when does the key draw happen?” Carmen asks while hanging off Fran?ois.

“We’ll give it a few hours, let everyone loosen up, eat, and get to know everyone. We’ll probably draw keys around nine so people can really get the night together.” Fran?ois winks at Carmen and I almost roll my eyes but catch myself in time. He beckons the girl with the key bowl back and makes a dramatic show of dropping a skeleton key in the bowl.

I look away from the display and around the house. It’s already decorated for Christmas with tasteful garlands and wreaths hung intermittently with lights and plaid bows.

I’m actually angry because of how nice this all looks. The guy that’s stealing my girl doesn’t deserve to also have great Christmas decorations. Or a decorator. I wonder if whoever it is could help with the town decorations. Given the increase in visitors, I know the mayor and the Christmas planning committee really wanted to up the ante.

What does that say about the state of my relationship if I’m madder about the decorations than the way he’s touching Carmen?

Taking another drink, I follow Carmen to the middle of the room, but I’m not happy about it. I would rather get out of the hubbub and find one of those chicken sliders I saw being passed around, but like all good food, it’s snatched up before it gets to me.

Carmen floats away with her peppermint martini, leaving me on my own. I could feel her itching to get away from me all night, and she’s finally taken her chance. A few more people have entered after us, but Fran?ois hasn’t greeted them the way he greeted Carmen.

I wonder if the two of them are already fucking.

I silence the thought immediately. Carmen is many things, but I don’t think unfaithful is one of them.

A gust of cold air heralds another arrival, and I look up only to nearly dribble my drink out of my mouth. It’s sheer willpower that has me swallowing before I do.

Sydney Perkins just walked through the door on the arm of two guys, Ollie and Louis, people we went to high school with. She looks stunning in that lush deep mistletoe-green dress. It’s tight all over and she’s clearly uncomfortable from the way she keeps trying to tug at the hem, but Louis swats at her. I want to go over there and cover her up myself because I don’t want anyone else’s eyes on her.

Our paths never have reason to cross. She had a reputation in high school for being one of those girls that your mom warns you about, not that my mom ever did. I wanted to ask her out, I thought about it, but Carmen happened my way instead, and the rest is history.

But tonight, tonight Sydney is all grown up with those big grey eyes that hide behind her bangs. I know she works in the coffee shop, but she’s never there when I go in, which is probably for the best.

If seeing her like this already has me thinking about how badly I want to bend her over, I can’t imagine what a more potent dose of her would do to me. The second the image of her round ass in front of me springs to my mind, I feel my cock harden, followed by instant guilt. I can’t even find it in me to get hard for my girlfriend. Why is it so easy when it’s Sydney Perkins on my mind? Either way, tonight has already started to bring some much-needed clarity to my life.

I look away, trying to find someone, anyone, to talk to at this godforsaken party, and I drain my glass, hoping that Sydney draws my key, while also praying that she doesn’t.

I don’t think I could survive two heartbreaks in one night.