Richard and Lainey - Her perspective

"Here's the thing, darling," he says, clearing his throat. "Chris and I...we have a history. You've heard the term 'menage' I assume."

Lainey stares at him. "Oh. You mean--you and Chris? And a woman?" Somehow this doesn't surprise her; she's seen how very close the two men are.

"Yeah. It's what we used to do sometimes. Or we watched each other. You know." He shrugs, gives her a matter of fact look.

Laine looks down at the carpet between her bare feet. She needs to vacuum, there's a few crumbs there from when she had that bag of chips last night. If she waits too long tiny ants will move in, thinking the crumbs are a sort of welcome to their new home.

"Watch each other have sex. Like that night." She twists her hands in her lap, not sure if she wants to scream at him or cry. "But you didn't ask me if I wanted to do that. You just got me drunk and..." She trails off, feels him touch her arm and jerks away.

"Lainey..."

"He called me a whore, but you treated me like one." Now her eyes fill with stinging tears. "I think you should leave now."

Richard hesitates, then nods, wisely not saying anything else. When the door closes softly behind him, she buries her face in her arms and cries some more.

*********

I thought he was different. I thought he cared for me--all of me. He doesn't respect me. Why did he do that?

Richard texts her the next day, which is surprising; she'd expected him to go no contact, effectively ending their relationship.

{b}Lainey, can we talk some more about this?

I know I fucked up.

Let me know when you want to talk.{/b}

She doesn't respond. When her phone rings later that night, her heart leaps and she wants to answer it but stops herself. Is he feeling bad because she called him out or because he cares about her? The party at Miranda's was early in their relationship, before either one of them knew what they wanted or even knew each other. Is that an excuse or an explanation? Does that relieve Richard of his responsibility, of the consequence? Could she trust him? Should she trust him now? Oh, but it hurts. As she'd told him, she did love him. But how did he feel about her?

Lainey keeps up the radio silence for the next week, trying to decide what she wants to do, trying to figure out what the correct thing to do is.

Flowers arrive for her at work, an opulent arrangement of lilies, roses and carnations that makes her smile, until she reads the card: miss you

Lainey carries the vase of flowers through the office to the dumpster outside and throws it in, ignoring the looks and comments of her coworkers. What do they know? Nothing, and she isn't going to tell them anything.

Instead of driving home she detours to her mother's small home, needing some comfort. She'll have to put up with intrusive questions and unsolicited advice, per usual when it comes to Gail, but didn't all mothers do the same? At least she still has a mother. Richard had sounded so regretful when he told her about never knowing his mother because she died when he was so young. It was the most vulnerable he'd ever been with her. And then he'd set up that voyeuristic scene at Miranda's...it didn't make sense. And he reacted badly when she'd told him she loved him, too, and what did that mean?

By the time she's nestled on her mother's faded blue couch with a mug of hot peppermint tea, Lainey's thoroughly confused and miserable.

"What's going on, hon?" Gail sips her own tea (green with a dash of vodka).

"Oh, Mom, I just don't know what to do. I've had a terrible week." Lainey sighs.

"Miranda said some really nasty things to me and then Richard...we're just having some problems right now."

"Miranda." Her mother scoffs. "I don't know why you think she's your friend," she says, setting her mug down on the scratched coffee table. "That girl only keeps you around to make herself look better. She's got no respect for you."

Lainey might have defended Miranda before that terrible conversation but now she wonders if her mother is right. "She doesn't like Richard," she goes on, staring into her cup. The steam rises, warming her face. "She thinks he's a jerk who's just using me."

"Does it matter what she thinks, Lainey?" Gail's voice is soft. "Shouldn't the only thing that matters is what you think of him?"

"I know, Mom. It's just...he did something pretty terrible not long after we first started dating and I just found out."

"Well, is it unforgivable?"

"I'm not sure," Lainey says slowly. "I mean, he's been so wonderful to me, Mom. He is kind and loving and--and respectful. So different from my last boyfriend."

"From what I knew of Eric, that's a very good thing." Her mother sips her tea. "Do you think you can get past whatever Richard did? Has he done anything similar since then?"

"I want to get past it, because I love him, and I know I've said it before, but it's different this time. It feels different--I feel different. I feel....loved." Lainey presses her hands into her belly as if she can press out the uncertainty. "But...but I'm not sure he feels the same way. I told him I loved him and he...he didn't say anything."

"Well, then, you have to decide if the relationship is worth saving."

Lainey sighs then gets up off the couch. "I'm going to go wash my face and maybe take a nap."

In the bathroom she scrubs off her makeup and then stares at her bare face in the mirror. She doesmiss Richard terribly. Waking up in the morning without him beside her, even trying to go to sleep at night is awful.

Pulling her phone out, she quickly texts him her mother's address, hoping she's not making a mistake. Well, if so, it won't be the first or the last.

**********

Lainey waits on the couch, her hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail, no makeup. It makes her feel a little vulnerable, as if by exposing her bare face to Richard, she's exposing her true self. And it isn't like he hasn't seen her without makeup, like in the mornings or after her shower, so she's not sure why it's making her feel that way. She wipes her palms on her yoga pants as her mom answers the door.

"You must be Richard," Gail says, opening the door wide and stepping aside so Richard can enter. I've heard so much about you! Come in, please."

Lainey watches him exchange brief pleasantries with her mother, but he's looking at Lainey with a guarded expression. He doesn't look away as he walks across the hardwood floor. He's wearing jeans and a black T-shirt and those black Vans she picked out for him. Her heart quickens and she wipes her hands on her pants again. Her mouth is dry.

She says nothing when he sits down on the saggy couch beside her, so close their shoulders touch. He slides his arm around her shoulders and presses his lips to her hair. Her eyes brim but she remains quiet, does not return his embrace.

"God, I've missed the way you smell," he murmurs. "I'm an asshole."

She heaves a shuddery sigh, clenches her fists, nails stabbing her palms. He continues speaking into her hair, his breath warm.

"You were right: I did treat you like a whore, and that was wrong. I only thought about what I wanted and I'm sorry, Lainey. I am so fucking sorry for hurting you. You're a wonderful, beautiful woman whom I've missed so much."

She wonders about the other women, the ones who participated in sex romps with him and Chris; did he ever apologize to them? Did he ever regret treating those women like nothing more than a toy? Did they ever call him out about it? Or were they too embarrassed or even okay with it? Too many questions make her head hurt.

Before he can say more, Gail bustles over with coffee, thrusting a brimming mug at him that he nearly spills all over his pants.

"Shit!" He sets the mug down on the coffee table, wipes his hand on his jeans. He's got that irritated look on his face, the one where his eyebrows furrow and Lainey can't blame him for it. Her mother has a real knack for interruption.

"Mom! Do you mind?" Lainey wishes she would go into the kitchen or something. How can she and Richard have a conversation with her hovering?

"So sorry," she says breezily, taking the overstuffed chair across from them after setting down sugar and cream and three spoons. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"Right," Richard mutters, shifting on the couch cushions.

"You're staring at me," Lainey says, covering her face with her hands. "Stop. I know I look terrible without my makeup."

"No, you're beautiful, Lainey," he says. "I mean it. Don't give me that look. I like seeing you without your mask."

"I've always told her that," Gail puts in, sipping her coffee. "But she doesn't listen, always wanting to go her own way, and that's not a bad thing, but sometimes a girl oughta listen to her mother, don't you think, Richard?"

"Sure, I guess," he says, lifting the mug for a sip before setting it down on the coffee table.

"You seem the type to listen to his mother," she goes on. "I can always tell the mama's boys." She flashes a brilliant smile at Richard, doesn't seem to notice the way he stiffens at her words.

"Mom, stop," Lainey hisses, squeezing his hand, the first time she's touched him. When he winces, she sees that his knuckles are skinned. "Richard, what happened to your hand?" Of course, he only shrugs.

"Come on, let's get that cleaned up." Beneath her mother's amused gaze Lainey leads Richard out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, where she makes him sit down on the toilet lid while she rummages in the medicine cabinet.

"You punched Chris, didn't you?" She finds ointment and a bandage finally and closes the cabinet. She kneels down and wipes his hand with a wet washcloth, then dries it and applies the ointment and bandage. "You didn't have to do that." It makes her feel good he defended her, although she wonders what it cost him in his relationship to Chris.

"I'm not going to let anyone talk shit about you." He gets up, and she backs toward the door, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're staring at me again," she says, his steady gaze making her feel self-conscious. She touches her bare lips, her hair.

"I can't help it; I've missed you. I'm sorry, Lainey."

She can tell he wants to touch her, wants to kiss and make up, but she's determined to totally clear the air. Holding up a hand, she opens the bathroom door. "You don't have to keep saying that."

"I'll keep saying that until you forgive me, if you can. I just..." He hesitates, his expression sorrowful. "I--I haven't been a nice person, but I want to change. I want to be a good man for you. What I did was disrespectful and selfish, and I swear I'll never do anything like that again."

"Oh, Richard," Lainey says, feeling sad. "I wish it was that simple. I want to believe you, but..." His face falls at her words. "I think I need more time."

He scowls. "More time for what?" She blinks at his defensive tone. "I mean, what else can I say to you?" He rubs his chin, frustrated. "Look. I know I fucked up, all right? I have no excuse for what happened at the party except that I'm an asshole."

"Yes, and how can I trust you now?" she tells him, and leaves the bathroom, her heels thumping on the carpet. Her childhood room is frothy and pink, still the refuge of a teenage girl. She sits on the canopy bed, deja vu washing over her. The photos of her younger self make her cringe at how needy she'd been, how pseudo tough. High school had been full of boys and parties, mean girls and tears.

When Richard comes in, he wanders around, looking at her things before finally sitting next to her. The mattress sags beneath both of their weight so that their shoulders touch. Her hands are twisting in her lap and he covers them with his.

"Lainey, what can I do to prove you can trust me?"

She can feel him looking at her, waiting, hoping. "I don't know, Richard," she admits, looking at their intertwined fingers. "I'm scared," she says finally. "I'm scared that if I give you another chance you'll break my heart. "

He stands up. "I guess you want me to leave then."

"What? No, you idiot, I don't want you to leave." She pulls him back down beside her, heart melting at the bewilderment on his face. {i}He really does love me, he just doesn't know what to do with it.{/I}

"We're going to work this out because that's what people who love each other do. I know you love me, Richard, and if you can't say it, that's okay." His head snaps around at her words and his eyes flicker over her face as if he can't believe what he's hearing.

"Lainey," he says, lightly touching her cheek. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want to lose you. I..." He falters, takes a deep breath. "I'm scared, too," he admits. "The last time I felt like this...it didn't end well. I just....this is new territory for me. I never thought about the harm I might have been doing; I was only focused on my own pleasure. You made me realize how much of an asshole I was."

Richard looks down at their intertwined hands. "I want to be a good man for you, Lainey. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to make love to you every night. I want to spend every second of my life with you, and if that's love, then I fucking love you."