SUMMER SWAP // Part 3 // Chapter 1

Cheyenne entered their bedroom ahead of him while he held the door. She padded in, flip-flops clicking until she made it to the bedside, pulled her feet out of them, climbed up onto the bed and crawled to the window. He closed the door behind him and locked it, crossed to the bed while Cheyenne looked out the window at the water. He joined her on the bed, scooting to lean on the window wall at her side. Sunlight came in, lower now later in the day, painting his wife’s soft features an orangey pink and lighting up her brilliant pupils. She was beautiful, and already complex, but now even more so. And he could see that complexity in her face. That familiar face he saw every day, eyes cast out toward the sun, no makeup today, hair hanging wet around her cheeks, no lipstick, her pink pouted lips open. He could see the line of her lower teeth. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Wanted to convey to her his own complexities.

What went on in Cheyenne’s mind? If she were to look at him right now would she see the machinations working behind his eyes? Cheyenne was the girl he knew the most in his life. Had spent the most time with. And yet the events of last night and today had opened a new doorway into his understanding of her. He’d never worried about her fidelity. She wasn’t flirty with other men, didn’t talk about guys, didn’t have some favorite hunky actor that she loved to watch on the big screen. Maybe that was what was so intoxicating about this. Seeing her revived, seeing her riled this way. Provoked. Seeing her . . . Aroused.

Without looking toward him, she said, “What did you want to talk about?”

He peered out where she was looking to see if there was something that had her attention. Maybe some naked guys bouncing on a trampoline. But the trampoline floated alone, and Cheyenne looked only at the lake. Their faces were close, and he leaned to kiss her cheek.

She bit her lower lip and there was a measurement of worry he could detect there. He didn’t want her to worry about what it was he was going to present to her. Didn’t want her for a moment thinking that this was another fight, or that he was going to drop something heavy in her lap. Although what had happened was heavy, it truly was a regrettable accident. That’s all. But that wasn’t what concerned him. It was the presentation of a crazy idea that could get him in big trouble. Could get him slapped across the face. That wasn’t impossible. He could suggest swinging, she could show a shocked face, the hurt face, lip trembling like she would cry and then slap. Thinking all he wanted to do was fuck Carla. And Cheyenne would storm out of here and it would ruin the weekend. Ruin the whole next week. Maybe put an irreparable rift between them. So he had to be careful. This wasn’t about Carla. Not entirely. It really was about Cheyenne.

“I don’t know,” he said, waffling again. Chickening out.

“Just tell me . . . Is it about the inner-tube again because—”

“I told you I’m not mad about that.”

“I know you did. But I also see it from your point of view. I didn’t want to . . .” She crossed her arms, leaned her back against the window, and looked up at their cabin’s ceiling. “I don’t know. I just want to have fun. It’s . . . innocent.”

“I get it.”

“People have funny relationships.”

“What’s funny about ours? What do you mean?”

She said, “No. Not ours. Like, take Carla and Cody. You wouldn’t think it to look at them, but they have a different kind of lifestyle.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Cheyenne smiled, looking out the window again at whatever it was she imagined had her attention out there. She licked her lips before continuing. “Carla and Cody are like . . . open. The swing, if you know what I mean.”

His heart thudded, some kind of relief, but also that riled feeling again. “Swing?”

“It’s not crazy,” she said absently, eyes cast out the window.

He said, “Did you talk to Carla? I thought you didn’t talk to Carla.”

“I didn’t talk to Carla. What do you mean?”

“Who told you that?”

She opened her mouth to say something, and the small smile she showed faded. She closed her mouth again. He stared at her face, deciphering now what she’d just said. Cheyenne had just done what he came in here to do. He’d come in here to do exactly that. But he didn’t even have the nerve to say it.

His heart beat faster. Carla had told her. Carla had told Cheyenne, and Cheyenne was possibly interested.

Now he was mad. That feeling he’d suspected in his wife raced through him. She wouldn’t even look at him, and he wanted to grab the front of her sweatshirt and snap her forward . . . But why?

Cheyenne’s skirting around asking the same thing you were about to ask. Why would it make you mad because she wanted to do the same thing yo9u do?

He chuckled, groaned, then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“What?” she said, her voice worried.

“Nothing.” He leaned his head with a thunk against the glass and smiled at her.

She said, “Why are you smiling?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know they swing.”

She rolled her eyes. At least the small smile returned to her pretty mouth. “I just thought it was crazy,” she whispered.

“It is,” he said. “Totally crazy. I couldn’t believe it when she told me.”

Cheyenne. faced him. “When did you talk to her?”

“When you left me asleep. She was the only one around when I woke up.”

“So, what did she tell you?”

He sighed, looked around. “She said that she and Cody mess around. Not a ton. Couple times a year. And just . . . that it really works for them.”

Cheyenne laughed, then groaned. “Can you imagine?” She laughed, and folded her arms tighter around herself.

He braced himself. “What do you think?”

She raised her eyebrows, not looking at him. “What do I think of them doing that? Like I said, everybody’s got their own thing. I’m not offended by it or anything. I mean I can see the . . .”

“See the what? The allure?”

“No,” she said, contemplating. Her brows raised. “Yeah,” she said, changing her mind. “The allure,” she agreed.

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s not for everybody,” she said, and he watched the pointed edge of her canine tooth worry over her plump lower lip. She was nervous and couldn’t ask.

“It’s not for everybody,” he said. “But for some people, I think it makes things better.”

“Better how?”

“I don’t know. Something they can do together. Something that spices them up.”

“It would spice up their own love life,” she said, looking for clarification.

“Yeah. I mean I’m getting this from Carla, who’s practically a swinger salesperson.”

Cheyenne chuckled, raised a knee and rested an elbow on it. Her thumb and forefinger played with her mouth, and she looked across the room contemplatively.

“You’d have to really love the person you’re with,” he said.

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. “You would definitely have to be totally in love with the person you are with.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. They were two people about to ask each other the exact same question, both of them knowing it, but still afraid to be the one to say it first.

He said, “What are you thinking?”

She raised her eyebrows, sighed, lowered her knee and crossed her arms again. “Nothing,” she said. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m trying to think of what you’re thinking.”

She huffed and smiled. “Good luck with that.”

“What if I guess it right?”

Cheyenne smiled. She smiled and showed him an affectionate gaze that he hadn’t seen for a long time. It’s sparked a nostalgic feeling of togetherness they’d once had. Like when they were fully and crazy in love before they were married. That emotion-heightened time when it was just the two of them against the world. Their problems hadn’t intermingled yet, and their togetherness was a real thing and seemed to have more value. Seemed to be cherished more. The affection she showed him right now was because she’d realized he was on the same page as her and they’d found a route for them to get it on the table.

He wasn’t going to say it. He was going to guess what she was thinking. If he got it wrong, he could pass it off. I just thought that’s what you were thinking. If he got it right . . .

Cheyenne said, “Do you need a crystal ball?”

He laughed. “Maybe a Ouija board.”

“Hold on,” she said, “hold on.” She snatched her iPhone from the pouch of her sweatshirt and thumbed out some notes, then put it away, smiling. “That gave me an idea for a shoe design. So, go ahead Mandrake the Magic Mindreader. Scan my thoughts.”

“You were thinking this . . .”

She waited. “Thinking what?”

He said, “Thinking if you could do it.”

She smiled. “Do what?” She said it playfully.

“Am I close?”

“I don’t even know what you’re saying yet, Byron.”

“I think you were wondering if you would be able to do it.”

“Me?” she said, putting all five fingers to her chest.

“You were wondering if we were the kind of couple that could do something like that.”

“That’s what you think I was thinking?” Her voice had gone cold, but there was still a warm and engaging spark in her eye.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you were thinking.”

“You were thinking that I was wondering if you and I would be able to do something like that.”

“Would we be able to do it?”

“Would we be the kind of couple that could handle something like that,” she said to herself.

He said, “Do you think we are?”

“Shit, Byron,” she whispered. “What are you saying?” There was a lightness and a playfulness in her tone that excited him. It was exactly what she was thinking.

“I got it right,” he said gleefully. “You were wondering if we were the kind of couple who could do that.”

Cheyenne smiled again. “Do you think we are?”