Con arts.

Not gonna lie, I had a nice day by the pool today. It was breezy and sunshiney in an early-fall kind of way but the most striking thing was realizing, during an impromptu, trash-talking throwdown of a four-lap butterfly race, that Caleb's shoulders are at least a full third wider than Duncan's. But I wasn't looking, I swear.

Love you forever.

It's cold, isn't it, Bridge? You warm enough?

I nod. I'm wrapped in a blanket by the fireplace in our bedroom. Four of the smallest lanterns are lit and the fireplace is the only light besides. He's poured us some champagne but as per tradition they're in little jam jar-style cups because that was what we had for special occasions.

We clink the cups together. Slàinte. I smile and take a tiny sip. He drinks his in one go and pours another. Finally, you are mine. 

I was yours from the very start. 

Officially, I mean. 

The wedding doesn't count? 

Not really, no. 

I see. 

This is outward. Obvious. 

My tattoos don't count? 

No, Bridget. Like I said, this is the big one. The one I was waiting for. Hoping for even. It's like Christmas in June. 

Juneuary, you mean. I am cold. 

Jesus, why didn't you say something! He takes our full glasses and puts them on the hearth and pulls me in closer to him. Skin to skin. He is so warm I feel instantly feverish in proximity. I get a kiss that would melt steel and then he swears into my mouth, picking me up, dropping me down on my back on the floor, putting his weight on me as he whispers things I can't hear, as his hands travel over every inch of my skin, as he ends with my new name, as if no one has heard it before, nevermind the dozens of times he caught me talking to myself in the mirror, introducing myself at the tender age of ten as Bridget MacIntosh and he'd laugh and promise that I could, as soon as we can. And he'd smile like everything is right with the world. It mostly is as far as he is concerned and he doesn't seem to mind that his bride with the new name is dragging some larger than life ghosts and a demon or two behind her. He seems like he has room for everything.

Warm now? 

I nod again. Very warm now. Holy.

He pulls me back up to a sitting position after, tucking me in under his arm, pulling the blanket tight around us. The fire is too big and he lets it go down a bit. We've made our own warmth, made our own climate here. We finish our champagne. It's bad luck if you don't.

Ready for sleep?

I nod, staring at the flames. Don't pinch me. This moment is as perfect as a moment can be.

I love you. I blurt it out like it's an emergency. It is. My heart wants to explode right now and I don't think it's ever felt like this. It feels everything so deeply but not like this. Not. like. this.

I love you, Bridget, he says as he scoops me to my feet. He takes a minute and just stares at me with a smile. His hair is a soft loopy halo around his whole face. He's beautiful.  

I get one more kiss and then I'm out like a light. I didn't even wake up once.

Ambush hour. Fuck this rain.

I feel as if all of this espresso has finally eaten right through my stomach and everything that was inside it fell out through the hole and rolled away, save for this endless, gnawing fear. 

The fear that keeps me carrying around a Xanax in one tightly-rolled fist (not to be taken because maybe it's actually a Klonopin and I don't want one of those. They take too long.) The very same fear that finds me forgetting to breathe until I have a headache and then I don't want to do anything save for sleep. 

What is the fear of? Sam asks again. He always asks as if this is a fresh question or better yet, one that might have an answer. 

I shrug. 

Does August know?

I nod. 

Why do you think he knows and we don't? 

He is singular in his separation from the Collective. 

Does Lochlan know? 

I think he does but he won't admit it. 

Why not? 

Because if he says it out loud then it's true and I am crazy after all. 

And why wouldn't he say that out loud?

Because then there's a problem. 

But there is help for that problem. 

He would rather fun it away. 

I'm sorry?

Fun it away. Forget about it for now. Distract. Let it go. 

But?

But it doesn't go. I can push it under the water but it floats back up almost right away. 

Is there a time when it didn't come back up right away? 

Yes. 

Will you tell me when? 

When I'm in someone's arms. 

Someone specific? 

I cover my face. No. Well, maybe. Lochlan. But it goes away for August, Joel and Ben too. 

Joel. 

Yes, Joel. You want honest, here it is. It sucks, doesn't it? 

How does that make you feel?

You want to know why it doesn't go away for you. I can tell. 

If you want to share anything, go ahead, Bridget. 

I don't. This is your barometer. I didn't want to come in. 

It's raining. 

And so you thought it would be a good time to pick apart my mind? 

Doesn't hurt. 

Everything hurts, Sam. That's why we're here. 

Mrs. Mac, for short.

When I woke up and looked out the window in the stairwell Matt and Sam were by the pool, drinking coffee and eating what appeared to be chocolate croissants, sharing a newspaper, smiling at each other as if everything is right with the world again.

Maybe it is, because for a brief moment I thought we had chocolate croissants in the house. We don't because Matt brought two. TWO.

Be right back. Heading out to flatten some tires.

***

Lochlan wasn't happy that Schuyler put himself in harms way. He wasn't happy that Caleb showed up again with a bone to pick. He wasn't happy about anything and he made the rounds before coming at last to me and he wasn't happy with me either, it seems, though I listened to his instructions and haven't gone near the Devil, who, incredibly enough is really fucking angry that I went ahead and changed my name after digging in my heels for the best part of a decade since and he thought he was safe.

Yeah, so did I, once.

In any case, nice to meet you. I'm now sporting a name that's synonymous with Scottish raincoats, English toffee, American computers and one really stupidly good-looking redhead and now I'm less Irish but more of a blend and that's okay. MacIntosh is a good solid name and he is very proud that I have it now. Very proud. Kind of ego-peacock-Lochlan proud which worries me and is getting a bit annoying but hey, I signed up for this. Literally. My new license arrived and there's no going back now.

And Caleb has the nerve to say this morning that I had his last name for over thirteen years (via my marriage to Cole) so Lochlan still has to beat that. I swear Caleb has a death wish sometimes. Only it's for me instead of himself. I hope I get a croissant before he crosses that line. I'm really hungry now.

This is what frenemies means, I think.

Ben came to collect me, sharing a long brotherly hug with both his brother and with Schuyler, who continues to suffer no fools and has taken up some sort of impenetrable fortress of one in front of me. 

I don't want to see anyone get hurt, is all Schuyler said by way of explanation. He's all for people having fun. He's had some of the most fun before he grew up and settled down. What he isn't for is watching someone get hurt at the expense of someone else's fun. 

It's complicated, I shrug. 

Don't defend your devils, he reminds me before he softens his rebuke with a smile and a wink. Besides, you were like having a small human-shaped hot water bottle in bed. I don't think I can do that again now that it's warm out. 

Daniel likes it. 

I got this. He winks again and I smile back. 

I know you do. 

Go home to your redhead. 

Yeah well, stop making him pull all-nighters fixing shit. 

Doing my best. He could have said no. 

Not for that sort of stipend. 

Well, I had to make sure it was worth leaving you for. 

Wow. I guess he has a price. 

That's not what I meant. 

I know, silly. 

He went because he knew you were safe. 

No one's going to hurt me, Schuy. You worry too much. 

They don't worry enough. 

Who are you worried about? 

There's a few. 

Name names. 

The obvious. 

Right. Who else? 

Let me worry about that. You just keep your childlike innocence going. It suits you. You love everybody, Bridget. And they all love you back. What could go wrong?

I looked back to see if he was joking with me, if he was smiling but his face was hard and grim before he checked it and smiled again. It didn't reach his eyes this time. And it didn't reach his eyes a few hours later when he had to knock Caleb on his ass after being charged just outside the front door. For fucks sakes. Ben took a turn collecting Schuyler this time instead of me, getting yet another hug though it was to hold him back. 

Mind.

An eleventh-hour offering kept me from the hands of the Devil, instead given over the likes of Daniel and Schuyler, where I hung from the night by my fingertips until my arms ached and my shoulders went numb. My eyes bore witness to true love, uncensored and unabashed and my hands reached out to touch but were left cold, contact made with nothing but air, as if the dark were a mirage, an oasis in a daylight desert.

Reassurance blanketed me and I was warm. He wants to keep you safe, Bridge. He's just doing what's best. 

I nod and my eyes grow heavy from bearing witness for so long.

Sleep, Princess. We'll have you back safe and sound tomorrow. My lashes flutter closed, the last thing they see being Daniel's sweet face as he chose my right side for sentry while Schuyler chose my left. They made a Bridget-sandwich and no one went hungry except for my demon but I didn't know a thing about that until it was too late to fix it anyway.

I'll be fine. He said he's tired.

I gave Caleb a gift today, landing in his lap on my way past him to find a towel. I'm soaked to the skin, fresh out of the pool, in a black bikini with fat string ties. It looks very wet-ro, he said, complimenting my vintage suit in an Elmer Fudd sort of lazy-voice. He's relaxed. He put his arms around me, ruining the crisp ironing lines of his shirt and smiled and I gave him a big fat kiss.

You should come in the pool with me. 

I'm tired, Neamhchiontach. 

I frown and he says he'll watch, that he'll stay here as long as I want to stay in. I remind him I only get an hour or less as it is and he vows to look into alternatives to the chlorine. I point behind us to the sea and he asks if I'd ever stay in it for an hour.

Sure, I remind him. Anytime. 

What about whales? 

My face falls. Whales are freaking scary. Anything is, underneath you in the depths. They don't come in this close to shore. 

True. 

I need to go change. 

You feel good right here. 

Can I come back when I'm done? 

I'm heading inside. Come to the house. 

I look over at the last chair. Lochlan's book and his glasses are there but he has vanished.

Maybe for a nightcap.

For the night. 

No, Cale. 

Let's wait and see. Bring your joker. 

Where is he? 

Schuyler needed something. Come at eight? Both of you.

Okay. I trace his mouth as he smiles slightly. I can alone-

If you bring him you could stay. 

Probably not. 

Wait and see. 

I nod and climb off his lap. There's a Bridget impression in wet fabric all over him. It looks cool. Sorry about your outfit. 

I wasn't going anywhere. 

Still..

See you at eight. 

I nod again. Eight.

Fealty to a lesser god.

Matt is gone again. I don't know what they're doing. One moment they're two halves of a human heart and then I blink and they're bitter, broken pieces of a love gone wrong. I'm not sure why they see each other and throw themselves over the edge again and again but they do and I get it.

That's why we're ruled by our hearts and our minds instead of one or the other. Neither can be trusted and so everything must be taken to a vote.

In any case, he didn't say goodbye. He said See you later, Bridget as he used to when he would go to work and so I am heartened that I didn't cause a new rift between them. I'm sure I only served to sharpen the old one so that when you run your hand over it to smooth the wrinkles of your life you bleed, but only a little.

Lochlan took my arm and pulled me away from them. Leave it. This is none of our business. 

I opened my mouth to protest and he covered it with his hand. Don't say it, Bridget. Just let them be. Please. 

He would like Sam and Matt to work it out, if only for Sam to not be a threat or some degree of risk, no matter how much I point out he isn't. He's just...well, I'm curious. And that causes problems.

When I checked on Sam to see if he was okay he said he will be, that Matt is supposed to work and then catch up on some chores and then he'll be back straightaway so they can sort this out.

But? I ask.

Do you think he'll come back? 

He loves you. 

But he doesn't love you, Bridget, and that's the problem. He doesn't like this environment. He doesn't want to live like we live. 

So leave. 

I can't. 

Sure, you can. You'd be so happy, Sam. 

He knows the terms. This is where I live. It isn't up for negotiations. 

I try a weak threat. I'll pack your things myself and throw you out. 

Don't. 

Broken hearts are contagious. Didn't know that. Or maybe I just forgot.

Angry devils and hungry angels.

Matt's car is still in the driveway. Matt is still here. He brought a decent supply of clothes with him. He's not in any hurry to go anywhere. Sam is dark and craving and he's beautiful because of it. Their divorce was finalized months and months ago and...and...I wish I knew...how to stop going around quoting Brokeback Mountain every three or four hours because it's annoying and yet it makes me laugh.

They can't quit each other.

Matt put Polish courage in my coffee cup without asking and I had to pour it out after a quarter of a cup because I'm pretty sure the others are putting things in my food. I don't know. I just know that sometimes when I get uptight about being touched they drug my food and ramp right up and I wake up in strange beds, in strange arms and it's a whole other sort of reunion and I don't know, it's not a bad thing but when even Bridget is burnt out on affection maybe it's too much. 

The collective isn't based around any more than that, sometimes. 

And I can't drink because I felt like a stowaway on stormy seas, tossed from one end of my balance to a void of gravity so profound I couldn't hold the cup any longer, having to set it down. 

No one looked alarmed. That speaks louder than any accusation or started-argument would have, and that's all I need to know. Everyone needs a break sometimes. My intensity burns like fire. Not nice fire but destructive, ravaging fire. 

We can contain that fire, Sam and Matt promised. Come spend a little time. 

I shook my head too hard and it broke off and rolled out the door, across the lawn and over the edge of the cliff. My eyes stung while my nose and ears filled with seawater. My body laughed as my brain drowned.

Okay, my mouth responded to Sam, gurgling my answer as water poured down my chin. But only for a little bit. I don't want to be a distraction if there's a chance you too are getting back together. 

Just a Wednesday, thank God.

Today is calmer by far. Woke up early. Stayed up late. Fought out from underneath some sort of iron-sleep-grip move Ben pulled early into the dawn and when I came back from my shower he had replaced me with Lochlan anyway. Saw Matt's car in the driveway and raised my eyebrows ever so slightly and went downstairs to make coffee, because I have a full new bag of bold full city dark roast and dammit I'm going to enjoy it. I poured a big mugful, left it black (the sweet and light was short-lived) and went for a walk to the pool to see if it and I will be friends today.

We cycled out the heavy chlorine and are attempting to see where the tipping point lies between not enough and Bridget-rash. I've told Caleb many times that the tipping point is never going to be safe for pool sanitation and my solution is a fine one (not staying in too long, showering right away when I get out) but he always tries to smother a problem with money until he runs out of ideas anyway.

(I should be more grateful. Yes I know, Diabhal.)

As I loop up to Batman's and come back through front yards I see the new fencing and it makes me sad, as if it were a possibility, the boys would just erect a full bubble over my entire world, and it would move with me as I went. I would be the centre and nothing could touch me. Sometimes I wish they could do that. I wish everything wouldn't touch me. I wish everyone wouldn't touch me. I wish I could feel safe but I do though, until my brain decides that's just too comfortable, Bridget, and talks me right back out of it.