It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
We lied. We’re married.
She circled the punching bag to the right and jabbed at it. Step, hit, step, step, hit.
We knew you wouldn’t approve so we lied. But we both want you, we really do.
Sweat beaded down her face and under her tank top. She threw a punch at the bag. It rocked back.
It’s not cheating. You have to understand.
She stripped off her gloves and threw them at the bag. They thudded on the wooden floor.
We both love you.
She screamed. Loud and high, her voice exploded from her.
She turned. They both stood by the door, anxious and eager. Mark and Eric, black and blond, looked as different as day and night.
Her boyfriend, floppy black hair, earnest brown eyes, tried to smile at her. His husband – husband! Not best friend! – stood mute next to him.
“How could you?” Her voice broke. “How could you?”
“We are sorry.” Her boyfriend hugged her tight.
Eric closed his arms around them both. “Please forgive us. Please.”