“Do you know why I’m marrying Leif?” he asks in a quiet voice.
I refrain from rolling my eyes, but there’s no way I can keep my tone from pushing sixty percent sarcasm. “Because you’re so disgustingly in love?”
He grins. “There is that, but it’s not the only reason. I know we’re not the perfect couple. He has flaws, I have flaws. He’s obnoxious sometimes, and it pisses me off like you wouldn’t believe. Plus, I knowyou’renot keen on him.” When I open my mouth to argue, he holds his hands up. “I know you try to hide it, which I do appreciate, by the way.”
I look away, my hands fidgeting at my sides. “He’s not keen on me either.”
“I know that, too,” he says with a nod. “But I’m going to marry Leif anyway, because of the way he makes me feel when no one else is around to see. No guests, no social media, just us. We have ways of being with each other no one else knows about. All couples do, it’s part of being in an intimate relationship. We can be real with each other in all the messy and silly and wonderful ways, but in the painful ways, too. I know, even when I’m in a foul mood, or when we’re having a stupid argument about how many cousins should be invited to the wedding,” he chuckles at what is clearly a recent memory, “he still loves me, and I still love him. That kind of trust takes time, Toni. It takes effort. And it can’t be built from behind a locked door.”
A wave of emotion floods my throat and washes against the back of my eyes, but I blink it all away. Rodney is trying to help, I know. He wants me to be happy. He doesn’t realise time is something I don’t have with Ned. Once the engagement party is over, our exchange of favours will be complete, and our relationship will come to an end. Ned doesn’t need me anymore, and the only true hold I have over him will be gone.
Intimacy and connection might be all well and good for Rodney and his precious Leif, but Ned doesn’t love me. It took a while for him to even like me. No matter how much we’re enjoying each other’s company, or how hot the sex is, there is no denying the limitations of our relationship. It would be pointless to go around flaunting my bad moods in front of him or letting him see me at my worst when it’s going to end soon, anyway. The best I can hope for is that he’s sad to say goodbye when he leaves. Which means, the less he knows about the not-so-fabulous side of me, the better.
Rodney takes a few steps closer. “Think about what I said. You deserve this happiness, Toni.”
His words make my conscience twinge harder. He wouldn’t say those words if he knew the truth. This has all been a lie from the start. Ned isn’t really my boyfriend. It doesn’t matter how many times I use the word or how many photos I post to the world. We will never be anything but fake.
Not that Rodney can know any of this. If he doesn’t believe there’s a chance this can work out in the end, it will have all been for nothing. Straightening my spine, I tug my mouth up at the corners and give him my most sincere nod. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”
SEVENTEEN
______
NED
“Tell me something real.” Toni is lying on top of me in bed when he says the words. His fingers are threaded together across my chest, his chin propped on top. Velvet eyes stare at the T resting in the hollow at the base of my throat.
“What would you like to know?” As long as he stays right where he is, relaxed against me, his belly nestled between my thighs, I’ll tell him anything.
He makes a quiet humming sound as he ponders his options. “I want to know something no one else in your life knows.” His gaze lifts to mine, his voice barely above a whisper in the dimly lit bedroom. “Give me a secret I can keep.”
Lifting a hand, I run my fingers through his platinum hair. The strands are stiff from his styling gel. What would it feel like free from products? I still don’t know. The few times we’ve showered together in the morning, he’s always dried and styled his hair immediately after. Just as he always keeps his face clean shaven and his clothes impeccably neat. These are the pieces of his armour I’m not sure I’ll ever see behind.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Toni murmurs, and I know I’ve been silent too long. “I’m being nosy. Our time together is almost up. I suppose I’m looking for a souvenir. Something to hold on to when we part ways.” His tone is flippant, as it always is when he refers to the predetermined end of our relationship.
It’s something he’s doing with increasing regularity, although I’m unsure why. Perhaps he doesn’t want me to get too comfortable here in his bed. Perhaps he wants to remind me he’s not mine to keep. Rodney and Leif’s party is tomorrow night. Once it’s over, I’ll be living on borrowed time, waiting for him to cut me loose.
“What if I tell you the story of how I discovered my submissive side?” I use the same careless tone he adopts so easily, though my stomach churns and my mouth is dry. “And why I avoided indulging myself for so long.” If wewillbe over soon, I want him to understand what he’s given back to me, and how grateful I am for the time we’ve spent together.
His eyes widen. “Is this your origin story?”
I move my head in a slow shake. “I don’t want to call it that.” Hesitating, I add, “He shouldn’t get to have that kind of importance in my life.”
The lightness and humour in Toni’s expression switch off. “Zac.”
“Yeah.” My fingers continue to stroke his hair as we stare at each other.
“He’s the only one who...”
“Until I met you,” I remind him, because I never want him to doubt he has every bit as much power over me now as Zac ever had. Maybe more. Because despite the tether around my neck, he makes me feel like an equal, even when I’m on my knees for him.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he murmurs into the silence. “I didn’t mean to ask for something so private.”
“Aren’t all secrets private?” I ask with a faint smile. “Besides, I’ve hoarded this one too long already.” I trail the tip of an index finger down the bridge of his nose before continuing over the angular softness of his cheekbone. “There’s no one else I could give this secret to. You’re the only one who would understand.”
He swallows hard and his heart pounds against my stomach. He’s nervous. I’m nervous, too. I’m about to hand this man the emotional equivalent of a live grenade and hope like hell he doesn’t let it blow up in my face. But I want him to know I trust him with this.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’m listening.”
