So where sex with Phil had been adequate – I mean, it produced Ava – it was never that bone-melting, must have, orgasms all night, kind of sex. Not like it is with Bram. I wonder if this is what sex in general is supposed to be like or I just got the luck of the draw with Bram. I’m going to assume it’s mostly the latter.
Finally though, it’s time to return to my apartment. Bram says he’ll freshen up and then come over to sleep once Lisa leaves and I’m ready for bed.
“Sorry I’m late,” I tell Lisa as I step inside. “Missed my bus.”
She looks a bit cross but says, “That’s okay.” She gets up off the couch. “Ava was an angel, as always. Her levels were fine, too.”
“That’s great, thank you.”
She walks past me to the door but stops and stares at me with a discerning eye. “You look different.”
“Do I?” I ask. I checked my hair and makeup in the car back from our “shag spot” and after the quickie, so I don’t think I particularly look like I’ve just had sex or done something wrong.
“You’re all flushed,” she notes.
“Must have been the walk from the bus stop,” I tell her, wanting to add that it’s cold outside but I don’t want to keep talking and make her suspicious. It’s not that I’m trying to keep us a secret, it’s just that I don’t know what us is yet. And screwing your landlord doesn’t look very good to the outside eye.
She opens the door and then jerks her head toward Bram’s apartment. “You know, your neighbor has some pretty loud sex.”
I nearly choke. “Oh yeah?”
She nods gravely. “Yeah. I don’t know how you sleep with that racket. Got to admit, he makes for a good show. And whatever woman he’s with.”
I feel my cheeks burn. “Have a good night, Lisa. Thanks again.”
I have no idea now if she suspects about Bram and I, but I know at some point she’s going to put two and two together. I make a mental note that just because we’re in Bram’s apartment, doesn’t mean I can’t cry out his name at the top of my lungs. I should ask him to gag me next time and then that thought itself turns me on.
But when Bram comes into my bedroom later, I’m exhausted and it seems like he is too. He doesn’t push me for sex, he just wraps his thick arms around me and holds me to him. It’s nice. It’s so nice, just to be held, to be wanted.
“You comfortable?” he whispers in my ear.
“Very,” I tell him. “I’m used to Ava crawling over me or just sleeping on me like a sack of potatoes. But this, this is very nice.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I don’t plan on letting go.”
“I had no idea you were such a cuddler, Mr. McGregor.”
“Oh, there’s probably a few things you don’t know about me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “But you will, in time.” He kisses my earlobe. “Besides, it’s hard not to hold onto you. I’m afraid if I let go of you for one minute, you may just slip through my fingers. And then where would I be?”
“Jacking off?”
“Aye,” he says. “But you can’t do that forever.”
“Really? I’ve tried.”
“You really need to show me your dildo collection one day.”
“Only if you promise to behave with them.”
“Nicola,” he says in mock indignation. “I can’t believe you think I would do anything that would jeopardize your fair virgin beauty.”
I giggle. “Shut up. Who knew you were such a dork?”
“Not many do, so please keep it between us and I won’t tell anyone about your dildo collection.”
“It’s just a few toys,” I say, playfully slapping his arm and settling back into the mattress. It feels so, so good just to be in his arms. “Besides, I think everyone I know has an idea. Steph says men think of me as an ice queen. Ice queens don’t get laid.”
“Mmmm, that’s not true. They do get laid. It’s just on their own terms. This was on your terms, Nicola, and you know that. Maybe I oughta thank you for letting me between your legs. Or maybe I oughta congratulate myself for saying all the right things, though for the life of me I don’t know what they were.”
“I’ll just say, whatever you’re doing—”
“Which is you,” he interjects. “Over and over again.”
“—keep doing it.”
“And tonight?”
Now I feel a bit guilty. “I’m actually kind of tired.”
“Same,” he says, propping up his pillow. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t wake you up in the middle of the night the only way I know how.”
I smile at that and let this absolute feeling of peace settle over me. The moment, as simple as it is, is pretty much perfect. It is perfect. I’ve got my daughter in her own room, responding well to the insulin and shots, taking the whole thing like the trooper she is. I’ve got a wonderful apartment, more than just a roof over my head. I’ve got the opportunity to really get my life on track, to start over and end strong, and I’m doing just that. And now I’ve got Bram, this wonderful beast of a man who keeps my brain guessing and my body coming.
I do catch myself on that last thought though. Because as much as I have him in the moment, as much as his arms are around me, keeping me calm and warm as the cool night air wafts in through the open window, and as much as I had him earlier tonight, I don’t really know what the future will bring. I don’t even know what we are. He said he wouldn’t date or fuck anyone else and I believe that, just as I wouldn’t even think of it myself.
But what does that mean? Are we in a relationship? Does he do relationships, like boyfriend and girlfriend, or am I just some sort of a monogamous fuckbuddy? I want to say that I don’t mind just being a fling, especially if I’m the only one he has. But the truth, the damn scary truth, is that I’m falling for him. It’s not love, I know it’s not. It’s not hitting me over the head, it’s not stealing my heart.
But he is stealing my thoughts. He’s training my body to want him and only him and all the time. He’s making my heart beat faster when he’s around, he’s making me smile like an idiot when I even hear his name. He’s making me look forward to each and every day because I know he’ll be in it and when I imagine a day without seeing his handsome face, there’s this strange sensation in my chest, like my heart is bereft.
My heart can’t be involved though, it’s too risky, it’s too soon. I don’t want love to swoop on into my life and turn it upside down, not now when everything is starting to go right. In my experience, love is a destructive force, tearing hearts to shreds and forcing people to pick up the pieces. Even the best love stories are violent tales.
I have to wonder if Bram has ever been in love. If he’s actually gone that distance and bid farewell to his heart. If he’s been serious enough about someone else to share a part of his life with them to move in, to have something that has a label attached. I wonder if he’s ever been down this road and if it’s something he’s even open to.
“Have you ever been in love?” I ask, my voice sounding far away, as if in a dream. I can’t believe I’m actually asking those words out loud, but there you have it. If my brain doesn’t turn off, stuff will eventually come out my mouth.
I can feel him flinch beside me so that cancels out any hope that he was already asleep. Sometimes I have no idea how long I get lost in my thoughts. Is it moments? Minutes? I tilt my head to see his sharp gaze in the hazy darkness. “Don’t worry,” I go on. “I’m not in love with you,” I assure him.
“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat. “That’s too bad.” He swallows and then rolls on his back so he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Yes. I was in love. Only once. I had it pretty bad too but…I was young. Shit happened. I panicked and I fucked up. I fucked up big time. I was just such a bloody idiot. It’s a real fucking shame, you know? Because I think love is the sort of thing you should reflect on and feel good about. That’s what love is, isn’t it? A good thing? But I can’t look back on her, on what happened, and feel anything but shame.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “What I wouldn’t give sometimes for that chance again to just fix things…make them right. But we rarely get a second chance, do we?”