Jourdan nods and hands her phone to me. I hold it in my open palm, and she turns the speakerphone off. I put it to my ear. She smiles shyly at me.

“I know you’re nervous,” Darren says, “but Jourdan is a good person.”

“I know that,” I say.

“But that’s not the problem.” It’s not a question, and I appreciate another reminder that he knows me so well. “Okay, here are the rules.” I exhale in relief at those words. “You can flirt. You can kiss her, but nothing more than that.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Are you sure?”

Jourdan bites her bottom lip, and my breath hitches.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Let me talk to her,” he says. His voice is a deep, raspy rumble.

“Okay,” I whisper in a tone that, for whatever reason, makes Jourdan smile.

She takes the phone from my hand and brings it to her ear, and that smile widens immediately.

I didn’t realize how much I would enjoy watching a woman be as affected by my husband’s voice as I am. I had no way of knowing that it would make a burning desire ignite in my gut, but I do now. While Jourdan listens to my husband, I steel my nerves and take a step I’ve only dreamed about for the past two years but also longer. I reach a hand out to Jourdan. She’s wearing an adorable playsuit with a discreet slit at her waist. My index finger slips inside that opening in the fabric.

We make eye contact. She smiles. My breath hitches again.

“Yes,” she whispers to my husband. “Don’t worry. I’ll send her home happy and wet for you.”

“Fuck,” I groan.

Jourdan throws her head back on a laugh.

testing the waters

Jourdan finds us a table away from the big picture windows that run along two walls of the restaurant. She sits me down and then struts back to the bar.

I think about calling Darren. I’m clutching my cell phone in my lap in both hands. My thumb is caressing the glass screen, and I’m so close to doing it, but I don’t. I made myself a promise that once I met Jourdan, I’d stand on my own two feet. I promised not to use Darren as a crutch. If this is going to work — not just our dating a third but eventually having something real — I have to learn how to take hold of my desire by myself, for myself.

Besides, I like watching Jourdan. She reminds me of some of my best friends, the way she smiles at the bartender like they’ve known each other forever and leans forward over the bar to chat with him while he pours our glasses of sangria. I don’t think she’s flirting, I think she’s just friendly, but if I’m wrong, I don’t mind.

Should I?