After dinner the drive back to the hotel was filled with animated conversation as the group discussed Van's new football contract and Brock's decision to golf for a living. The conversation bordered on being a debate, and ended with Brock and Reba yelling at each other about the importance of financial stability verus pursuing a dream. When Brock pulled into a parking space Barbara Jean, Van, and Cheyenne got out of the van quickly, heading for the safety of the hotel to avoid the fallout of Brock and Reba's argument.
"It's important for your family to be able to count on you to provide for them," Reba exclaimed, taking off her seatbelt to face Brock.
Brock took off his seatbelt as well, turning toward Reba. "It's important for me to do what makes me happy," he yelled back.
"And golf is what makes you happy?!" Reba was incredulous.
"No," Brock cried, "But it helps me distract myself from the fact that I can't have what makes me happy!"
Reba raised her voice even more, "Yeah? What is it that's so damn important to you?"
Brock didn't answer, instead grabbing the back of Reba's head and pulling her to him for a passionate kiss. Reba was stunned for a moment, but quickly responded, opening her mouth to let her tongue dance with Brock's. They both moaned at the long-denied contact and Brock leaned over, pushing Reba up against the passenger side door and deepening the kiss even more. Reba ran her fingers through Brock's hair and tickled the roof of his mouth with her tongue, feeling a rush of heat when he moaned again. After a long moment Brock broke the kiss to gasp for air before latching his lips on Reba's neck, quickly finding her sweet spot.
"Oh Brock," Reba moaned, arching her back slightly.
"Reba," Brock breathed against her skin reverently, pausing long enough for Reba to regain some of her scattered senses.
"Brock, we can't," Reba said regretfully. "You're married. To Barbara Jean."
Brock quickly moved off her, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I forced you to, you're probably disgusted," he said, words tripping over each other as he tried to apologize.
"Don't," Reba said gently while she covered his mouth with her hand. "I want to, I do. But it's not the right time."
Brock nodded his understanding and kissed Reba's palm, smiling at the shiver he caused before she drew her hand away, "Soon."
Reba tried to stifle the hope his promise sparked in her, remembering that Brock had left her once. "In the meantime," she said, "I'm going upstairs to sleep," and she left Brock in the car to collect himself.
Reba let herself into her room and sat down on the bed, not moving for several minutes, replaying the kiss in her mind. She still felt warm from Brock's lips on hers, and his passion turned her on, but she tried to ignore the feeling. She finally stood up to take a long hot shower, hoping that no one would bother her that night.
Reba realized how vain that hope was when, just as she was laying down, she heard her door being opened. She wondered why she hadn't set the chain and pushed down the nagging thought that she'd hoped that Brock would come in. Reba sat up and turned on her light, taking in the sight of Barbara Jean coming toward her with an upset expression. "Well, Barbara Jean, what is it?"
Barbara Jean took a few breaths to calm herself enough to speak, "My husband is in love with you."
"What?" Out of all the things Reba could have expected to hear from Barbara Jean, that was probably the last.
"I was trying, well I thought maybe this vacation would be a way to, well, Brock and I," Barbara Jean floundered until Reba cut her off with a stern glare. "Brock and I haven't intimate in six months, and I thought that this vacation would be a way for us to, well, get intimate again. So I tried, as soon as he came in, to well, be intimate. And he was into it at first, more passionate than he's ever been with me," Barbara Jean saw Reba wince at this information, but ignored it. "And then he called out your name. Twice. He didn't even realize it until I slapped him, he was so busy imagining he was making love to you."
Reba sat stunned, unable to even make a joke. She fought between hope that Brock was still really in love with her and guilt over the part she may have played in the destruction of Barbara Jean's marriage that night. Barbara Jean was truly her best friend, even with the irritation that the woman always provoked in her, and she didn't want her to be hurt. "I, I don't know what to say. I'm sure it was an accident. We were married a long time, maybe he just slipped." Reba didn't realize she was practically repeating her words from dinner.
"Slipped," Barbara Jean repeated. "Yeah, maybe he just slipped. Has that ever happened to you, Reba? Have you ever slipped?"
"Since Brock and I got together I've never slept with anyone other than him. I am faithful to my husband," Reba said without thinking. "Was," she added quickly.
Barbara Jean's laugh had a slightly hysterical edge, "Was that another slip? Like in the car when he called you honey, or his wife in the restaurant? Why are you two always slipping if you're not in love with each other anymore? But that's a stupid question, isn't it? Because you are still in love with each other. You never stopped loving each other. Brock only married me because after I told him I was pregnant he wanted to do the right thing, and he never loved me as anything but the mother of his child, and eventually a friend. There's no passion between us, none of the sparks that are evident even in a single look between the two of you."
"Barbara Jean, what are you saying," Reba asked uneasily.
Barbara Jean sighed before replying, deflated and suddenly calm, "I'm saying that you're my best friend, Reba, and I know you still love Brock. I also know he loves you, and that you two deserve to be together. You would be if it wasn't for me, you would have worked it out. And I know that I deserve to find someone who loves me as much as you love each other. So I'm divorcing Brock." She saw Reba start to argue and held up a hand, "Not up for discussion. I'm not even angry, just shocked that Brock actually slipped this badly, and this many times in a row. I'm glad he did, though, because we could have gone on this way for several more years, all of us trapped and lonely."
"As much as I can't believe I'm saying this, you're my best friend," Reba said clearly, "And I don't want to lose you."
Barbara Jean squealed, "I knew it! Best friend, best friend, best friend!" Barbara Jean hugged Reba tightly, making Reba laugh a little and hug her back for the first time. "Don't worry, I'll still come over all the time, I can't take not seeing my best friend for long. And now, best friend, I'm going to go back to my room. I bet Brock will come in here as soon as I leave. I want you to keep him here tonight; he can sleep on the floor if you want, but let me sleep alone to gather myself. We'll be fine in the morning. We are all friends, after all."
Reba nodded distractedly, grabbing a robe and pulling it around herself. "Okay."
As soon as Barbara Jean was out the door, Reba fell back on her bed and sighed heavily, reeling from the last few moments. She breathed deeply for a moment and smiled when she heard a soft knock on her door, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. She got up and opened the door, taking in the pained face of her ex-husband and wordlessly taking his hand, leading him to her bed. Reba sat against the headboard and opened her arms. Brock sat beside her and leaned his head on her chest, holding tightly to her waist as her arms went around him. They sat in silence for several minutes before Brock spoke, "I love you."
"Oh Brock," Reba murmured, running her fingers through his hair.
"I know Barbara Jean told you everything, so you can't be surprised," Brock explained. "She's right. I never stopped loving you, and I don't think I ever wanted to. I never even tried to let you go."
Reba sat quietly for a moment, just relishing the closeness. Finally she spoke, "I love you, too."
Brock pulled Reba closer and shifted their bodies so they were under the covers curled up together. They laid like that in silence as the night passed by until they finally drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.