Virgin Lips

38. Are you ready to become a stepmom, Joanna?

"So, Joanna ..." Ms. Benedetti-well, Samantha, since that's what she insisted on being called, sneaked up on me while I was washing the dishes. Somehow, I convinced Jeremy to let me do it on my own, just to take a break from this whole ... happening.

Did I say I'm an introvert? Well, I am, and as such, I need my batteries recharged now and then. The evening went great, even I conversed somewhat fluidly, but at some point, I just needed a moment to myself. Not to mention that detail about meeting Ben's daughter ... I'm still shocked.

"Thanks for coming." I said politely while soaping some plates.

My employer smiled, then grabbed the dishes I'd already soaped, and washed them under the faucet. "Thanks for inviting us."

"You don't have to ..."

"I want to." We both were talking about helping me with the dishes, of course. "They're having fun on their own anyway," she hinted behind us, where Jeremy and Mr. Grant – I will never, for the life of me, manage to actually call him Lucas, even though he insisted as well – were conversing amiably about history. Yeah, history. Not football, or baseball or whatever, but ... history. Jeremy majored in that, after all, and Mr. Grant said he's always been interested in ancient civilizations.

"Thanks." I said.

Samantha just nodded, and we both went on washing and soaping the dishes in silence for a few seconds – relative silence, since our respective partners weren't much quiet. "I wanted to say ... sorry again about earlier." Samantha mentioned. "I put you on the spot, I didn't mean to."

"Earlier?"

"Yeah, with ..." she hinted behind her.

"Jeremy?" I had no idea what was she talking about, the dinner actually went well.

"He doesn't know, does he?"

"What ..."

My boss neared me a little bit, pretending to grab a soaped plate to wash it, which gave her a chance to whisper in my ear: "About you and your neighbor."

When I say I gasped out loud and broke a plate, I'm not joking. I literally did. Luckily, Samantha had the calmness to tell our respective partners everything was okay, we'd just been clumsy, so they went on with their discussions. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I ..." I cleared my throat, staring at my hand, "just clumsy ..." that's one word for it. I picked up the pieces of the broken plate – luckily all in the sink – in silence, hoping that she would not ask questions or worse, make assumptions. But when do I ever get what I want?

"I don't judge, Joanna. You're young and ... they're both fairly handsome, it's understandable that you're torn between them." Samantha said. "But ... Jeremy seems like a nice guy, he doesn't deserve it."

"I ... I'm not ..." my voice broke a little, and when I spotted Jeremy's concerned gaze, I covered it up with a small cough. "We're not ... Ben and I, it's ..." complicated? It never even started because he never even tried?

All he did was come out saying he's gay, lying about everything, and then randomly kiss me and come up claiming he loves me. That's not exactly the recipe for a mature relationship, is it? Hell, it's not even the recipe for a friendship, but I'm trying hard to forget about the lies and really forgive him.

"I had a neighbor." Samantha said, half smiling. "He was the first friend I made in New York, he was genuinely nice with me, something that back then, for me, was hard to grasp."

What does that mean? She clouded over for a moment, but then, as if it were the source of her strength, she turned to gaze at her fiancé – who was laughing and chatting with my boyfriend on the couch, not looking like one of the most powerful men in the city at all. "I thought Sean felt the same as I did." My employer went on, turning to me. "I thought he considered me a friend. But ... he didn't."