Late night

The sun was dipping low by the time they left the mall. Nia split off early, hugging Claire tight before she got into a rideshare.

“Send me pics,” she whispered with a grin.

Claire only nodded, eyes full of mischief.

The drive home was quiet. Claire sat in the back between the two men, her bags piled by her feet, her body angled just slightly toward Marcus. John drove, stealing glances through the rearview mirror, watching the way Claire’s thigh rested gently against Marcus’s.

She didn’t move it.

Marcus didn’t mind.

⸻

Back home, they kicked off their shoes and put on a movie — something no one paid full attention to. The couch was wide, soft, and dark under dim living room lighting.

Claire took the middle seat, of course.

She leaned into Marcus’s side just a little too naturally — shoulder brushing his, head tilting now and then as if instinctively drawn to his body heat. Her legs stretched out across John’s lap.

John stayed quiet, letting her weight rest on him.

But she wasn’t looking at him.

At one point, Claire shifted to reach her wine, her chest grazing Marcus’s arm.

“Oops,” she murmured, not even pretending it was an accident.

John sat stiff, hand on her calf, not sure if it was his anymore.

The movie ended late. The house was quiet again.

Claire stretched, yawned dramatically. “Okay. Time to get this body in bed.”

She stood slowly, gathering one of the shopping bags — a black one. Smaller. Thicker material. She held it against her hip like a secret.

John noticed the tag peeking out: fine lettering, bold print.

Claire caught him looking and smiled.

“Marcus got me something,” she said softly.

John blinked. “What?”

Claire turned to him, expression unreadable. “A gift.”

He stared at the bag. “What is it?”

She shook her head, teasing. “You don’t get to see it yet.”

Marcus had already disappeared into his room.

Claire stepped closer to John, her voice lower now.

“It’s black,” she whispered. “Tight. Expensive.”

He swallowed. “What kind of—?”

Claire smiled.

“It says BLACKED on the tag,” she said.

John’s stomach tightened.

She leaned in, kissed his cheek, then whispered into his ear:

“Queen of….”

Then she walked toward the hallway, hips swaying, bag in hand.

She didn’t look back.

John stood in the living room, frozen.

The door to her bedroom shut with a soft click.