Chapter 9

I made the mistake of calculating the flight time from Knoxville to South Carolina: less than two hours. I wanted to grumble about Kendall’s fear of flying, but it wouldn’t do any good.

Still, I felt the need to vent, so I took out my frustrations with my weights. When I finished, I toweled off and tried to look on the bright side—we’d have six or seven hours to enjoy each other’s company, without distractions.

We loaded the Cruiser and left on Wednesday afternoon. I glanced at my watch and silently figured our arrival time. I thought I hid my frustration, but Kendall read me perfectly, so I braced for an argument. She surprised me when she smiled apologetically.

“Thank you for driving,” she said.

I didn’t want to let go of my anger, so I merely nodded.

“I know it’ll take longer than flying, but I’ll make it worth your while.” She trailed a finger over her breast and circled a nipple.

I wasn’t going to give in that easily, although I watched her out of the corner of my eye.

“For instance, we can’t pull over to the side of the road in an airplane.”

“So?”

“How else are you going to slide your long, hard cock into me?” She even managed to look ingenuous.

Uh-uh. It’s not going to be that easy. “You can have sex in an airplane,” I said aloud. “It’s called the Mile High Club.”

“Can you bend me over and fuck me from behind?”

“Of course,” I lied. In reality, it would be a good way to get killed, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Can you throw my legs over your shoulders and fuck me deep?”

“Yeah, sure.” Um, no, not really.

“Can I kneel in front of you as you hold my head and fuck my face?”

“Except for the kneeling.” And the control yoke. And the instrument panel. And the...

“Can you tie me spread-eagle and fuck me till I beg for mercy?”

“I can’t tie you, but the rest is doable.” If I want to end my life in a fiery, orgasmic crash.

“Can we sixty-nine?”

I started to answer, but then gave up. “Okay, you got me there.”

“See?” she said. “Driving is much better than flying.”

“If you say so.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Without taking off her blouse, she unfastened her bra, wriggled out of it, and tossed it to the back seat.

“I won’t be needing that,” she said, and began teasing her nipples again. They quickly stiffened under the thin cotton of her shirt. A minute later she raised her skirt and slid her panties over her long legs. “I won’t be needing those either.”

I knew what she was trying to do—distract me with sex—and it was beginning to work. Worse, she knew me well enough to realize it.

“Have you ever thought about being a truck driver?” she said out of the blue.

My brow creased.

“You know,” she said, “driving along, with nothing but your thoughts for company.”

I still didn’t get it.

“Would you look at the women you passed? Think about having sex with them?”

Ah, it’s a fantasy. “Sure, I guess,” I said.

“Would you pick up hitchhikers?”

And that’s my cue. “If they were sexy enough ... like you.”

She smiled eagerly, but then got a far-away look. “You could make me earn my ride.”

“Yeah,” I said, “that’s not a bad idea. But what could you do?” I pretended to think. “Sing? Nah, I’ve got the radio. Tell me a story? No.” I shrugged. “So, what can a pretty girl do to earn her ride?” I paused and considered. “I know!”

“What?”

“Show me some skin,” I said.

“Some skin?”

“Yeah. Show me your tits.”

“Do I have to?”

“You want a ride, don’t you?”

She played at being reluctant, but her breathing quickened as she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Your pussy, too,” I said.

She lifted her skirt.

“Spread your legs.” I glanced over. “Now play with yourself.”

She moved the waist chain’s pendant aside, revealing her smooth slit. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she began teasing her clit in small circles. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as she slid a finger into her slippery opening.

I shifted in my seat to relieve the pressure on my dick, and mentally kicked myself for being such a pushover. Her fantasies were too hot to pass up, but I still felt manipulated.

She moaned again and buried her finger to the knuckle. I forgot about my quibbles as she slowly raised the finger and tasted her juices. She continued teasing me for a couple of miles, until I unzipped my pants.

“Time to earn your ride.”

“Oh, no! I couldn’t possibly—”

“Put out or get out,” I said. “C’mon, get a move on. I haven’t got all day.”

She protested a bit more, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Finally, she bent over me with perfectly feigned reluctance. I put my hand on the back of her head and held her down.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said gruffly.

She moaned and tried to swallow me whole. We passed a truck driver who glanced over and saw her head in my lap. He honked his air horn, and Kendall’s mouth went from hot to molten.

“You like that?” I said.

She nodded, her lips still tight around my shaft.

The next trucker didn’t notice, so I sped up and approached a third. Kendall shifted her hips and began playing with her pussy. The truck driver honked, and Kendall’s mouth went into overdrive, hot and wet as she bobbed in my lap. I let him watch for a few minutes, but then mashed the accelerator.

The fourth trucker was talking on the CB as we approached, and he turned to leer before we even pulled up to his cab. He blew his air horn, a long blast followed by a couple of short ones.

Kendall plunged her lips over my cock and moaned. The vibrations made my head swim, and I tried not to swerve off the road. The trucker honked again, and Kendall rammed her mouth down. Searing pleasure exploded deep within me, and I spewed down her throat. She went rigid a moment later, her fingers vibrating over her clit.

I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the sensations as she swallowed the last of my load, but I didn’t want to end my life in a fiery, orgasmic crash. I actually chuckled at the thought, but Kendall ignored me, lost in her own post-orgasmic stupor.

When she recovered enough to move, she pulled her fingers from her pussy and closed her legs. The trucker blew his horn in protest. I felt like flipping him the bird—Who did he think he was, complaining that his free sex show wasn’t available when he wanted it?—but I stomped on the gas instead. When I finally slowed down, Kendall sat up, beautifully disheveled.

“Oh my goodness ... that was amazing! I got so hot when that truck driver honked.” She flashed a smile. “See why driving is so much better than flying?”

She wasn’t going to convince me anytime soon, but I didn’t mind her trying.

The trip seemed quicker than it really was, especially since Kendall was horny for most of it. Her road trips in the RV with her family had inspired a lot of fantasies. In addition to her “earn her ride” one, another involved truckers fucking her in a dive bar. In yet another, she had to suck their dicks through a “glory hole,” whatever that was.

In others she was a biker’s girlfriend, a hitchhiker, a woman with car trouble, or some other damsel in distress. She even had one where she was stopped by the police, who took turns fucking her at the station.

After sunset, she took off her clothes and left them off, even when we stopped for gas. Not surprisingly, we pulled over to have sex three times, so I was pretty worn-out by the time we arrived at camp.

Most of the buildings were dark, but a light glowed in the clubhouse. Susan had left a note on the pool table—Stacy and Jason were still in Columbia, and we were the first to arrive.

Susan had made up our room, so Kendall and I unloaded the Cruiser, took a shower, and finally climbed into bed. I think I fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

We ate breakfast with Susan, but she had errands in town, so we made small talk until she was ready to leave. We had our own errands, but Kendall volunteered us to make up the other guest rooms. We spent an hour making beds and tidying up the rooms before heading to town ourselves.

At the dressmaker’s shop, a short, round, cheerful woman pinned Kendall into a strapless crimson dress. I wasn’t very impressed, but then the woman began making adjustments to fit the dress to Kendall’s full figure. By the time she was done, Kendall looked fantastic. She glanced at me to gauge my reaction, and I was happy to leer my approval.

We ate a quick lunch before my tux fitting, but we still had to rush to get to the shop. The man who did the fitting was glacially slow. What should have taken thirty minutes took almost an hour and a half. I was ready to pull my hair out, but I kept my cool.

Finally, he bagged the tux and added the matching cummerbund from the dressmaker. We made it back to the Pines with just enough time to shower and get dressed for the rehearsal. I drove like a madman, but we were the last ones to arrive at the church.

Stacy moved to greet us, but the wedding coordinator snapped, “Oh, no, dear! You mustn’t move.” She shook her head and muttered about “the dignity of the ceremony.”

Stacy just rolled her eyes, although she held her position by the altar. She looked as pretty as ever, and I let my eyes roam over her lithe figure. Her fiancé, Jason, was just as I remembered: tall and soft-looking, not quite pudgy, but close.

The rehearsal itself was simple, but that was a good thing, since I spent most of the time trying to pick out who would be at the swingers’ party later.

I was sure about the maid of honor, Sydney, a petite brunette with big brown eyes and a wry smile. Her fiancé, a tall, regular-looking guy named Woody, was the best man. He started to walk back with us to practice the processional, but the coordinator told him to stand by the altar with Jason and the minister.

The third groomsman cracked a joke about the coordinator, and then silently mocked her when she huffed peevishly.

“Steve,” his girlfriend whispered, “be nice.”

“Lighten up, Charlene. I’m just havin’ fun.”

Charlene was standing in for Kara Coulter, and I studied her out of the corner of my eye. She had short blonde hair and a lush figure, with full breasts and curvy hips, all squeezed into a tight blouse and painted-on Jordache jeans.

Steve and Charlene walked down the aisle, and then I offered my arm to Kendall. We shared a look, and I understood hers immediately: when would we walk down the aisle as bride and groom? I didn’t have an immediate answer, which was more of an answer than I was willing to admit.

Sydney walked down the aisle alone. When she reached her position, Susan paused for several seconds and then stood gracefully. As the de facto mother of the bride, the congregation would rise when she did, so the organist began the wedding march, and Stacy emerged on Gunny’s arm. He looked older than I remembered, but his eyes shone with pride.

The minister coached us through the ceremony and we practiced the recessional. We did the whole thing again, and then stood in a group as the wedding coordinator gave us final instructions about “the blessed day.”

When it was over, Stacy finally had a chance to greet us. We joined the rest of the wedding party, and she made introductions.

“Sydney’s my best friend,” she said. “We started the MBA program at the same time, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Even better, Woody’s an accountant, so he and Jason have a lot in common.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said as we shook hands.

“This is Steve,” Stacy said, “and his girlfriend, Charlene. Steve and Jason are both car nuts, so that’s how we met them. Steve owns a garage and custom shop.”

I faked a smile and we shook hands.

“Dave’s another car guy,” Stacy said as she introduced one of the ushers, a handsome guy with a smile like Elvis. “He and Steve race at Concord every weekend. Except this weekend, of course.”

“Nice to meet you, Dave,” I said.

“And this is Dave’s girlfriend, Maddy,” Stacy said, introducing a dark-haired girl with striking, almost exotic features. “She’s part Catawba. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Absolutely,” I said as I shook her hand.

Stacy introduced us to the rest of the people—Jason’s family, mostly—and then we headed to the restaurant, where Kendall and I sat with the rest of the wedding party.

After a couple of beers, Steve and Dave started telling stories from their frat days at South Carolina. I thought Kendall would snub them immediately, but she laughed as much as Charlene and Maddy.

The Frat Boys quickly got on my nerves, so I started a conversation with Sydney and Woody. He was the quiet type, so she did all the talking. They didn’t seem to have much in common, but their expressions held an easy familiarity when they looked at each other. It was the same look I saw in my parents’ eyes. Stacy and Jason had it too, and I wondered if Kendall and I did.

Hell, I thought with a mental snort, we’re not even talking to each other at the moment.

When dinner wound down, we said goodbye to Jason’s family and the others who lived in town. Susan, Gunny, and Lenore headed back to camp, and Stacy and Jason joined us by Steve’s car, a souped-up Barracuda.

Our voices trailed off, and anticipation crackled in the air. When Stacy finally grinned, it spread like wildfire around the circle.

“Are we ready?” she said at last.

“Hell yeah!” Steve whooped, louder than anyone else.

Back at camp, we unloaded two coolers of beer from Steve’s trunk, as well as a boom box from Dave’s. Once we set up in the clubhouse, I thought things would get going pretty quickly, but we stood around drinking and talking for nearly thirty minutes.

Finally, Charlene drained her beer and began dancing to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps.” She backed away from the group, her hips swaying to the beat as she made a show of unbuttoning her blouse.

Steve and Dave hooted and cheered her on, and I hid a frown at their antics. They were probably nice enough guys when they hadn’t been drinking, but I couldn’t shake my dislike.

Charlene pulled open her blouse with the flair of a stripper. She was wearing a white lace bra, which barely held her breasts. They weren’t quite as big as Kendall’s, but that didn’t stop me from admiring them.

When she shucked her skintight jeans and kicked them aside, the Frat Boys hooted even louder. Without warning, Kendall handed me her beer and joined Charlene. The Frat Boys went wild, and even Jason and Woody cheered.

Sydney leaned close to talk over the music and cheers. “Aren’t you having fun?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Her eyes flashed and she pulled me onto the improvised dance floor. Beside us, Kendall was down to her bra and panties, and Charlene was playing with her waist chain. The Frat Boys cheered them on, of course.

Sydney drew my attention with a laugh. “I thought you’ve done this before.”

“I have,” I said tersely. But not with frat rats hooting at my girlfriend.

Jason and Stacy joined us on the dance floor, and he twirled her like a square dancer. He was surprisingly light on his feet, especially for a big guy. Sydney danced into my arms, her slender body pressed against me. I felt nervous dancing with her as her fiancé watched, but she followed my gaze and smiled.

“Don’t worry about Woody. We have an open relationship.”

I arched an eyebrow in question.

“He’s one of those guys who likes sex a couple of times a week,” she said as she turned and pressed her ass against my crotch.

“And what about you?”

“Me?” she said, all innocence. “I like sex a couple of times a day.”

I tried not to grin, but I couldn’t help myself. She turned away with a smirk, so I held her hips and gyrated against her.

On the other side of the dance floor, Kendall and Charlene were down to their panties. They rubbed their breasts together as the Frat Boys leered and sang along—badly—with Steve Miller Band’s “Jungle Love.”

Woody and Maddy leaned against a couch, although he was massaging her shoulders instead of dancing. Her eyes were closed in pleasure as she swayed in front of him. Sydney tickled my crotch again, and tugged my hands to her small breasts. We danced (groped) for another song or two, but then Stacy tapped her shoulder.

“Trade with me, Syd.”

Sydney flashed me an amused grin and headed for Jason.

Stacy glided into my arms, and I pulled her close, even though it wasn’t a slow song. She’d filled out since I’d seen her last, and her body felt good under my hands. She was still slender, but less boyish than I remembered.

We danced for a few minutes, but then the Frat Boys whooped as Kendall revealed her shaved pussy.

“What’s the matter?” Stacy said, but then she followed my glance. “Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re a little immature sometimes, but they’re good guys. Besides, Kendall’s a grown woman. She can handle herself.”

I had my doubts, especially with dipshits like the Frat Boys to encourage her.

“Relax,” Stacy said. “They’re Jason’s friends. They wouldn’t be here if we didn’t trust them.”

I shrugged, but didn’t argue.

“Besides,” Stacy said, leaning close, “I have a treat for you.” She gnawed her lip and gazed up at me.

“What kind of treat?” I said at last.

“A good one.” She grinned. “Well, good for me, too, but you never complained.”

I laughed, at ease for the first time since we’d returned from town.

“I also have a surprise,” Stacy said.

“What kind of surprise?”

“A good one. But first,” she said, “you need to help me out of this dress.” She turned so I could undo the buttons down her back. She shrugged out of the dress and folded it over a chair. Then she took off her bra and panties.

I admired her smooth back for a moment, but then my gaze fell to the curves of her ass. She turned and caught me staring. My face heated as I blushed, but she merely smiled and walked toward me. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a wide strip, and my dick stiffened at the thought of fucking her.

She smiled and began unbuttoning my shirt, so I snuck a quick look at the others. Woody and Maddy were making out by the couches. Her top was unbuttoned, but I couldn’t see more. Kendall and Charlene were still dancing for the Frat Boys, who were down to their underwear.

Sydney had shed her clothes—I kicked myself for not paying attention—and I paused to admire her slender body. Jason was tweaking her nipples as she tried to unbuckle his pants. She fumbled as jolts of pleasure made her shudder. He saw me watching and grinned like an idiot. I couldn’t help but laugh, which made Stacy turn and look.

“He always does that,” she said with a laugh. “She can almost come from playing with them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh, you’ll get your chance,” Stacy said, “but not till you’re done with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She play-glared and then unbuckled my belt. She tugged at my zipper and I helped her finish undressing me. Then, almost absurdly, we started dancing again, to AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.” I felt like an idiot, but I decided to have fun in spite of myself (although I wanted to put a sock in Steve’s mouth every time he shouted “Whoo-hoo, yeah!”).

After fifteen or twenty minutes of dancing and drinking—punctuated by a lot of flirting—Stacy made eye contact with Jason. They had a silent conversation and he nodded. Sydney winked at me.

“Hey,” Jason said, raising his voice over the music, “let’s head down to the hot tub.”

“Whoo-hoo, yeah!”

I gritted my teeth.

Woody and Maddy rose from the couch, and I got my first look at her body. She had firm breasts with puffy reddish nipples, and her dark pubic hair was trimmed into a wide wedge. I smiled when our eyes met. Her answering smile held a trace of shyness, so I let my eyes slide away as she picked up her towel.

“I think she’s so beautiful,” Stacy said quietly.

“Yeah, she is.” I said.

“Too bad she doesn’t like women.”

“You can’t have everything,” I teased. I went to pick up my own towel, but Stacy stopped me with a gesture.

Sydney gave me a smug look as she led Jason away. Steve threw his leather jacket onto a cooler and then hefted it, and Dave grabbed the boom box. I tried to catch Kendall’s eye, but she followed Charlene out the door without a backward glance.

Stacy frowned. “What was that about?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Is everything okay between you? Do you need to go with her?”

“No and no.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“‘She’s a grown woman,’” I quoted. “‘She can handle herself.’” I sounded bitter and mocking, even to myself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so mean.”

“You sound upset,” Stacy said.

“Frustrated, mostly. But it’s nothing new.”

“Oh?”

“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” I said. “Not now, at least. Maybe some other time.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay, some other time.”

I took the opportunity to change the subject. “Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

Stacy knew what I’d done, but she didn’t call me on it. “A sailboat cruise in the Caribbean,” she said at last, brightening. “Courtesy of Susan.”

“Wow. That sounds like fun.”

“I hope so. We’ve never been sailing before, but we love the water.”

We moved to the couches as she told me about the cruise. She and Jason would be the only couple aboard, aside from the owner and his wife.

“They specialize in romantic cruises,” Stacy finished. “Candle-lit dinners, champagne, romantic ports of call...”

“Sounds like fun.” We fell silent for a moment before I grinned at her. “Is that why you held me back? To talk about your honeymoon?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “No. Besides, you asked me about it. I held you back ‘cause I have a surprise for you. Remember?”

“A surprise and a treat.”

“And a treat,” she agreed.

“So, what do I do? Just sit here and let you indulge my every whim? Or do I have to do jumping jacks or something?”

“No,” she laughed, but then pretended to reconsider.

I smirked and made to stand up. “Well, if I gotta...”

“No, no jumping jacks,” she said quickly, and held me down. “Just sit back and relax.” She slid off the couch and knelt between my legs. “There,” she said. “That’s better.”

I grinned as she began playing with my dick.

“My surprise is a blowjob?” I teased.

“No, smarty pants. You’ll see.”

I quit talking when she planted a line of soft kisses down my semi-hard shaft. She nuzzled my balls, but then kissed her way back up. I closed my eyes and felt my nostrils flare as I sucked in a deep breath.

She moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around my glans. She actually liked giving head, even if she didn’t like the taste of come. She’d tried to swallow before, but she always ended up gagging, so I reminded myself to warn her before I came.

In the meantime, I was more than happy to enjoy myself. She really did like giving head, and she moaned softly each time she swallowed me. When she pulled back at last, she smiled, her lips shiny with saliva.

“I forgot how big you are,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?”

She ignored me and swallowed half my length in one lunge. She moaned when she closed her lips around my shaft, and I felt light-headed as she gripped my thighs and worked my cock into her throat. She held me there for a long moment and then came up with a deep breath.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, staring at my saliva-coated dick, “this is gonna work.”

“What is gonna—?” I groaned as she swallowed me deep again. She couldn’t take more than four or five inches, but it was enough to make my head swim.

She began sucking in earnest, and I knew I wouldn’t last long.

“Get ready,” I said.

Her lips caressed the length of my shaft as she pulled back, but then she plunged down again, her mouth smooth and tight around my cock.

“I’m gonna come,” I grunted. She kept sucking. “Stacy,” I said, my voice rising, “I’m gonna come.”

I bucked my hips and tried to push her away, but she held on. The pressure in my balls grew almost painful, but I tried to will myself not to explode.

She plunged again, her lips halfway down my shaft. Then, incredibly, she took me deeper.

“Stacy! I’m gonna come!”

The ring of muscles in her throat contracted around my glans, and she began stroking the base of my shaft. I tried again to push her away, but I didn’t want to hurt her. Then I felt the rush of semen flowing up my shaft.

I expected her to pull away, choking and gagging. Instead, she tightened her lips as the second spurt gushed down her throat. I closed my eyes and groaned as pleasure suffused my senses.

Stacy pulled back when I finally stopped shooting. She gasped for breath, but then wiped her lips and looked at me with a drunken smile.

“Holy shit,” I panted. “That was incredible. But ... are you okay?”

She nodded. Then she swallowed and made a face. “Residue.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I thought...,” I said at last, “I mean ... you don’t like...”

“Surprise.”

“But how...?”

“Susan suggested it. It’s easier with Jason—he’s not as thick—but I still got you into my throat. Your dick is past my tongue, so I don’t taste it when you come.” She grimaced and wiped her mouth again. “I always taste it on the way out, though.”

“But ... I mean ... do you actually enjoy it?”

She shrugged. “Jason enjoys it, and so do you, so...” She shrugged again. “It’s okay. A bit weird, feeling you spurt in my throat. It takes a lot of control not to gag, but I’m getting better. I’m used to Jason, who’s not as big—”

“Hold on,” I interrupted, “I thought he was ... you know ... well-hung.” I hadn’t actually seen him hard yet, but I vaguely remembered Stacy talking about him.

“He is, but he’s long. You’re thicker.” She glanced at my half-hard dick. “A lot thicker.”

“You never complained before.”

Her expression warmed, and she caressed my thighs. “I’m not complaining now. It’s just that I’m not used to you. In a way, it’s like the first time all over again.” She got to her feet and curled up next to me on the couch. Then she laughed nostalgically. “Do you remember our first time?”

“In your trailer, way back when?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. That was the first time I ever had anal sex.”

Her eyes grew distant as she remembered. “Wow, that seems like so long ago, but it was only ... what? Four years?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot of things have changed since then.”

“No kidding. You’re about to get married!”

Her smile turned girlish as her cheeks flushed. “And you’re in college. What did I call you back then? ‘Mr. Fifteen’?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled at the memory, but then another one struck me. “What ever happened to Randy?”

“Killed in a bar fight,” she said flatly. “In Alaska.”

“In Alaska? What the hell was he doing there?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Jason’s private investigator located the death certificate. We had to find out if I was still married.” She tried to look bleak. “Now I’m a widow.”

I snorted. “The happiest widow I know!”

“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” She smiled giddily, but then got a faraway look.

“What?”

“In a way, a part of me still loved Randy. I mean, he was my first...”

“But he did some pretty awful things.”

“Yeah. The asshole.” But she said it without heat. She took a deep breath and forced a happy face. “I’m much better off without him.”

“The whole world is better off without him.”

“Yeah, but ... he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

He deserved to be gang-raped in prison.

“Still, I’m much better off without him.”

“You’re much better off with Jason,” I said.

“Not to mention you ... and Susan ... and Sydney ... and a lot of other people.”

I put my arm around her and held her close. I still loved her, even if I wasn’t in love with her.

“You were the first guy who ever treated me like I was worth something.”

“You are worth something,” I said. “Quite a bit, actually.”

She laughed, but it was tinged with sadness. We sat in silence for a while, lost in thought.

“I still love you, you know,” I said at last. “I always will.”

“I love you too,” she said softly. “But it’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“How we were right for each other at the time, but not forever.” She sat up and looked at me. “I mean, I do love you, but it’s different. With Jason...” Her expression turned soft. “He’s my life, my soul mate.”

The silence stretched out, and she leaned against me again. I put my arm around her, her body warm next to mine.