The Scandal and Carter O'Neill by Molly O'Keefe

month, two weeks, three days.”
    “He’s—”
    “Getting better.” Phillip’s optimism was sincere. It had been just over a year since his partner, Ben, had been in a car accident that had totally crushed his hips, and it seemed as though corners were being turned every day. He’d gone back to work last month at his law firm as a consultant for the state government. “He’s out of the wheelchair most of the day now. He only uses it at night when he’s tired. And yesterday—” Phillip’s eyes got big “—Ben got a boner!”
    “What?”
    “We were in the shower,” Phillip said. “Soaping each other up and suddenly, there it was!”
    “What did you do?”
    Phillip’s laughter was so bright and beautiful it brought tears to Zoe’s eyes. “What do you think I did?” Phillip asked. “I dropped to my knees and got reacquainted.”
    She laughed so hard the baby did somersaults. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
    Phillip took a sip of her latte. “It’s Ben that’s amazing,” he said. “I swear to God, every day…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Best man in a suit I’ve ever known.”
    “Well, I think the suit part gets negated by the fact that he dressed up like Dolly Parton on the weekends.”
    “He does look good in sequins,” Phillip said with a smile that spoke of such love she had to look away, choked up.
    She wasn’t lonely, not really. But she wanted to feel what Phillip felt for Ben.
    And there was the sex. Sex sometime in the future would be nice.
    But not with Carter.
    No matter how much her body might want it, her head and heart were voting no.
    “Honey?” he said, jostling her. “A boner is nothing to cry about.”
    “I know.” She smiled, waving her hands in an attempt to laugh off the spikes of emotion that were making her do crazy things. Want crazy things. “It’s the hormones.”
    “Do you…like Carter?” Phillip asked, leaning to look into her eyes.
    “Sure,” she said, pretending to be casual.
    “What’s he like?”
    Funny. Sad, a little. Warmer than he thinks. More passionate than anyone knows. Driven. Single-minded. Sometimes cold. Secretive. Confusing in about a hundred different ways.
    “Surprising,” she finally said. “But not for me, so let’s stop talking about him.”
    The two of them sat in a nice silence, like a warm puddle of sunshine. She ate some salty beignets and decided to put voice to the idea she’d had while tossing and turning in bed the other night.
    “You used to take hip-hop classes, right?”
    “Like a million years ago,” he said. But she knew Phillip was being modest. He’d been as passionate about dance as she had, but Phillip was one of five kids and his mom hadn’t been able to sacrifice everything the way Zoe’s mom had. After Phillip’s dad had left, when it had come down to dance class or paying the electric bill—the electric bill got paid.
    “You said you were taking classes again a few years ago.”
    “I did. I do.”
    She turned to him, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “It’s only one class a week. You don’t tell me everything.”
    “Touché,” she said, but secretly she was thrilled. This idea was actually doable.
    “What about break dancing—”
    “That I did in the eighties?” he asked with a laugh. “When I was ten?”
    “But you were good.”
    He pursed his lips. “I was good, wasn’t I?”
    “I was thinking about offering a free class to teenagers after school. Hip-hop, maybe some jazz. Break dancing.”
    He swiveled and stared at her. “Where did this come from?”
    Carter, she thought, remembering the fire in his eyes.
    But instead of telling her best friend the truth, she shrugged, glancing down at a grease stain that looked like a pair of lips. “Just an idea.”
    “It’s a good one,” he said, and she knew he was remembering the days when a free dance class might have changed his life. It was why she’d asked him—he had more in common with these kids than