"Frank...mmm, Frank...Frank!" I moan, something hotand delicious in my mouth, something considerably heavier than a duvet on top of me. I open my eyes. What is this?
He's...he's on top of me. Just like the old times. We're not even in bed; we're on the floor of the tour bus, though I can't see Mikey or Ray anywhere. Perhaps they're still out, or they're hiding from the sound. They probably think this is gross. At least we can trust them to keep it secretfrom our wives. No...Lyn-Z...Jamia...oh, what does it matter? We do love them,we're not liars. It's just...this means more to us. Means more to me.
There's a heated friction between us, and his tongue is inside my mouth. All I can focus on is the weight of his body on my body,the way he moulds into me perfectly, as if we were born to fit together, betogether, stay together. I love...I love him...I love...
X.x.X
"Daddy!" And that's when my eyes open again. There'ssomething lighter than Frank on top of me. It's the duvet. In my...house? In mybed. With my wife by my side and my daughter tugging so hard at my hand thatI'm caught off balance and nearly fall on the floor. A few moments later, Lyn-Zwakes up too, sitting up and smiling at us both. I married her. I love her. Iknow the drill. Know what I have to do to function without admitting I keep dreaming about sex with my best friend. I've had the same dream every night since we made up. It's definitely better than the nightmares about Frank on topof Jamia that I had while I still hated him.
"Hey, handsome," Lyn-Z purrs, rolling into me and resting her head on my chest, looking up at me with big dreamy eyes that I can't help but tumble into. It's as though I can see her soul through them. It's innocent and clean and pure. Not at all like mine.
"Morning, beautiful," I reply, letting a smile playabout on my lips. I sit up, holding her hands, leaving her laying flat on thebed, and I lean over and kiss her hard, hungry, on the lips. She knows – I can tell by her moan – that I love her and want her. I do. Just not as much as I love and want and need Frank.
"Ew..." Bandit grimaces, and Lyn-Z and I laugh,kissing each other once more quickly before pulling apart.
"Sorry, honey," Lyn-Z grins at our daughter. "You get kisses too, though."
I do kiss Bandit on the cheek as I lift her up,seating her on top of our covers in between us. "It's gross when you kiss," shecomplains adorably, only she can't say 's' right, so it sounds like, "Ish grothwhen you kith" or something. It's cute, whatever it is. Lyn-Z tickles her untilshe's howling with laughter, and when she stops trying to escape and acceptsher giggly punishment, my wife lets her go and kisses her on her tiny nose.
"Help Daddy make breakfast," my wife advises, kissingBandit again, and then me, grabbing me by the shirt I've just tossed on andpulling me across the bed, before pushing me back when she's done with me, sothat I giggle. "I need a shower."
Bandit helps me make eggs on toast and coffee, and Iwhen she hammers my knee with a miniature fist, trying to regain my attention (I'm daydreaming about what happened with Frank that night...when we fell out),and then demands a hug, I laugh, lift her onto my hip and wonder why I wouldever want anything other than what I already have. My gorgeous wife is upstairswashing her hair. My perfect little girl is nestled against me, sucking herfingers and babbling away about nothing in her own strange language. A fewyears ago, I was depressed, and an alcoholic, and addicted to drugs. I wantedto die. But, an irritating voiceinside my head adds, you were with Frank,too. Which do I want more, though? Happiness or Frank? It's a hard choice.
Because...well, having Lyn-Z and Bandit: that makes mehappy. I love them to pieces. Not being able to have Frank...that makes meunhappy. I need Lyn-Z because I can't have Frank. And I hate lying to her, hateusing her, but...what else can I do? He won't tear his family apart for me. AndI refuse to devastate mine. It took me a long time, before, to work out why hewouldn't sacrifice everything for me, when I was so prepared to crash throughthe illusion of perfection that was my life, and wreck it all for the warpedperfection that was my relationship with my best friend. Was it better before,when we hated each other, so that I could ignore his existence and let myselfhave closure, at least? Or was it better now that I had a best friend again,but one I lusted over. Every time I'm with my family I can't stand the thoughtof choosing Frank over them. But every time I'm with Frank, I can't stand thethought of being without him. It boils down to the same question, no matter howI dwell on it. Happiness or Frank? And I still don't know what the answer is.