“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have asked you to lie for me.”
“I didn’t lie, Ma’am.” He’s still looking out the window.
Technically, he lied by implying he was at our wedding, when he knows damn well he wasn’t. He didn’t find out about that until well after the fact.
And I forced him to make that implication by dragging him into the discussion.
“I mean, I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’mreallysorry.”
“It’s all right, Ma’am.”
I feel even worse now. It’s bad enough that I can never openly admit who he is to us. He will forever be playing the third wheel, so to speak. We have to pretend he’s just a really good friend, not a third of our love. Meanwhile, he gets his face inadvertently rubbed in that fact every time we’re all out together somewhere, especially with my parents, or in any kind of professional situation.
I glance Carter’s way. He removes his sunglasses when he has to slow and wait for the gate to our development to open for us.
He shoots me an angry glare.
That’s the kind of glare that meansI’ddamn well better fix this beforehehas to, because ifhehas to fix it,Iwon’t be sitting down for a week.
At least.
Chapter Seven
We arrive home moments later, and Carter pulls the car into the garage. Even though I know Owen wants to open my car door for me, I get out first, before he can, and stand there with my hand out, waiting. The garage door is already rolling down behind us, meaning we are safely concealed. He finally reaches out and takes my hand and lets me lead him inside after I disarm the alarm.
This house is our refuge. Owen’s house is next door, but he essentially lives here, with us. If he drove separately to work, he parks his car in his garage, lets the door roll shut behind him, changes into a T-shirt and shorts, and then walks through his side door and into our home, concealed by a tall privacy fence that spans the side-yard gap between our homes. In the morning, he reverses the procedure, usually showering with Carter after their morning run or work-out, then pulling on shorts and a tee to go get dressed at his house. If he rides in with Carter, he gets dressed over there and returns to our house.
Most of his clothes and his personal items are there, but only what he doesn’t need on an immediate basis. Everything else is here.
This isourhome, thethreeof us, and where we sleep nearly every night—together. There are plenty of pictures of all three of us on the walls, so Owen isn’t some faceless ghost in our marriage whose presence isn’t noted except when he’s physically here.
He’s all around us,partof us.
Heisus. There would be nousif it wasn’t for Owen, and don’t think I don’t recognize that.
I love him every bit as much as I love Carter, and I need to remind him of that right now after my thoughtless words earlier. It’s instances like this, where I make time to center him in my world, that will live in his heart and sustain him through the lonelier times ahead of us.
When he starts to pause in the hallway just inside the garage door so he can strip, as per the rules, I don’t let him. I tug his hand and make him follow, leaving him snatching his chain collar from on top of the shelf there and carrying it with him.
My good boy.
He’s always been my good boy.
Could I have settled for Owen instead of marrying Carter? Probably. I know we would have been reasonably happy together, Owen letting me do my political thing, following me around, the dutiful husband.
I wouldn’t have cheated on him, because that’s fucking douchey.
We probably would have had a couple of kids, at least. I can envision Owen being an amazing dad, and it makes me sad in some ways to know he’ll never realize that dream.
It’s one of the few things I regret about all of this.
He wears a stainless steel necklace as his day collar, something innocent and unrecognizable to the average person as anything other than jewelry. I have a matching one, as well as a bracelet, that are my day collars. I can wear either—or both, if I choose. When I wear the bracelet, I do so on my right wrist. Carter also wears a matching bracelet, on his left, as our Master and Owner.
It’s a subtle reminder for me and Owen.
This is in addition to the matching tattoos we all have, Carter’s on the inside of his left wrist, and Owen’s and mine inside our right wrists, a small symbol for infinity. Carter’s is usually concealed by his dress shirts or blazer, Owen’s by his shirt, or a watch, when he’s wearing short sleeves, and mine I don’t bother hiding.
I don’t care who sees it.
