Chapter 13: The Morning After
The first slice of dawn was a pale, cold knife through the gap in the velvet curtains. It cut across the living room, illuminating the empty whiskey glass, the rumpled sofa, and the two bodies on the rug.
Aidan woke to a dull ache in his back and a profound sense of dislocation.The fire was dead ash. The room smelled of sex, smoke, and sweat. Catriona was curled against his side, her breathing deep and even, one arm flung possessively across his chest. On his other side, Siobhan lay on her stomach, her face turned away, the delicate vertebrae of her spine a faint line in the grey light. A dark purple bruise, the perfect imprint of his thumb, bloomed on the curve of her hip.He lay perfectly still, afraid to break the spell. The night replayed in his mind in jittery, vivid fragments.Siobhan’s cry. Cat’s hungry eyes.The feeling of release, so intense it felt like annihilation. His stomach churned, a mix of leftover pride and a deep, unsettling shame.He’d done it. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know existed a week ago.A soft rustle. Siobhan stirred, her shoulder flexing.A low groan escaped her as she shifted, feeling the tenderness. She blinked open her eyes, looked directly into his.For a moment, there was only blank confusion. Then memory flooded in, and her eyes widened.She didn’t smile. She just watched him, a strange, assessing look on her face.Catriona’s arm tightened around Aidan. She was awake too.He could feel the change in her breathing. Without a word, she untangled herself and stood, naked and unselfconscious in the creeping light.She padded silently to the kitchen.
The silence was heavy, thick with unspoken words. Aidan sat up, the blanket falling to his waist.He scrubbed a hand over his beard.
“You okay?” His voice was a gravelly rumble.Siobhan pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing slightly. “I feel… used.” She saw the immediate alarm on his face and let out a short, quiet laugh.“In the best way.Christ, Aidan. I’ve never been fucked like that in my life. Andrew thinks missionary for ten minutes is a marathon.”
A part of him preened at that, the old, stupid pride flaring. The rest of him felt like he was balancing on a cliff edge.Catriona returned, carrying two mugs of steaming black coffee. She handed one to Siobhan, then sat on the rug beside her, their shoulders touching. It was an intimate, easy gesture that sent another confusing jolt through Aidan. This was his wife, caring for the woman he’d just…
“Here,” Catriona said, her voice morning-rough. “Needed?”
“God, yes,” Siobhan breathed, cupping the mug like a lifeline.She took a sip, closed her eyes. “I keep waiting to feel guilty. It’s not coming.”
Catriona reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Siobhan’s temple.“Why should it?You gave me a gift. You gave us a gift.” Her green eyes flicked to Aidan, including him. “Was it what you wanted?To watch?”
Siobhan considered, staring into her coffee. “I wanted to know what it was like.With someone who… knows how.Who wants to be there. It was like a masterclass in my own pleasure.” She looked at Cat, a sly smile touching her lips.“And watching you watch?That was the hottest part.You were so in charge. It felt powerful.”
Catriona’s smile was triumphant, serene. She leaned in and kissed Siobhan, a soft, lingering kiss that was about ownership, not passion.“It was. It is.” She pulled back. “What about Andrew?”
Siobhan’s face hardened, a shadow of the woman from the book club meeting.“What about him? He’s probably just waking up, scrolling through his phone, wondering if I remembered to cancel the dry cleaning. He won’t call. He’ll just text ‘K’ later.”
“You could stay,” Catriona said, her tone casual, but her eyes were sharp.“Today. Maybe the weekend.We could order takeout.Be lazy.”
Aidan’s breath caught. This wasn’t over.It was stretching, becoming a shape he couldn’t yet see.
Siobhan’s gaze drifted to the window, the brightening sky. The idea took root, visibly changing her posture.The nervous energy from the night before was gone, replaced by a simmering resolve. “Yeah,” she said, the word solidifying. “Yeah, I could.”
She reached for her phone, which lay discarded near the fireplace.Her thumbs moved over the screen.No hesitation.
“What are you telling him?” Aidan asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
“That I’m staying with Claire. That she’s having a crisis after her mum’s visit.” Siobhan didn’t look up.“He won’t ask for details. He hates Claire.” She sent the text, placed the phone face down on the rug, and let out a long, slow breath.A smile, real and unburdened, spread across her face.“There. I’m a terrible liar, but he’s a terrible listener. It works.”
Catriona watched her, that mischievous glint back in full force. She finished her coffee in one long swallow.“So. A weekend.” She looked from Siobhan to Aidan, her expression one of pure, avaricious delight.“We’ll need more coffee. And groceries. And to figure out what we want to do next.”
Aidan stared at the two women, one his wife, one his… what?Accomplice?Lover? His mind struggled with the categories.The traditional walls of his world lay in rubble around him. But in the center of the wreckage, Catriona glowed, more alive, more his than she ever had before.She had chosen him for this.Trusted him with her darkest, brightest secret.
He pulled the blanket around his waist and stood, his body aching in a way that felt earned. “I’ll make breakfast,” he said, the words an anchor in the strange new sea. “Scrambled eggs okay?”
Siobhan looked up at him, her eyes warm. “Perfect.”
As he walked toward the kitchen, he heard Catriona’s whisper, low and meant for Siobhan alone.“See? He’s a keeper.”
And Siobhan’s soft reply. “I’m starting to see.”