Gabe has covered me with himself, and I can’t see the digital read-out on my alarm clock. And if I squirm, I’ll knock Andy, who’s snoring on the other side of me with his back turned. I’m trapped, by my own threesome. When I try to lift my head just a little, Gabe lets me know he’s not asleep. Of course he’s not asleep. I’m surprised he isn’t up, pacing the living room, while maybe also beating himself with a wire brush. I go to say something to him – along the lines of sorry or something else similarly guilty – but he pulls me up short before I can get there. ‘Are you OK?’ That’s right. He asks me if I’m OK. I wonder if he thinks I’m about to get out the wire brush. ‘Why would you think I wasn’t?’ I ask back, as low as I can get it. The last thing I want is Andy waking up in the middle of … whatever sort of raw emotional discussion this is going to be. Because I can just tell it’s going to be. When the sex stops, this is where we’re up to. Feelings.
