IthinkIshouldprobably go to my own bed. It feels like it’s time. We finished fucking ages ago, and even though Stuart hasn’t specifically banned it, I’ve never slept in his bed and he’s never slept in mine. I know all too well how he feels about boundaries. He’s made it clear what the rules are for this arrangement since the beginning, and even though he hasn’t spelled this particular rule out, I know where I stand. I should go. I press my face closer to him for a last little sniff, a last little hit to see me through until morning. I lean in until I’m so close my nose bends to the side as I inhale. Sex and sweat. Sun-kissed skin and safe places.
Just two minutes more.
Two more, then I’ll go.
I think about the night we’ve just had. It was crazy but good. Jesus, I can’t believe I called Stuart Daddy in front of everyone. I cringe hard and blush in the dark. Blushing in the dark feels worse for some reason than regular old blushing when it’s light. No one can see it, but I feel it twice as hard.
To ease the discomfort, I let my mind drift away from that. Back to when everyone arrived, back to when we sat at the table. Back to the precise second I looked at Stuart and realized I was fucked.
I’m so close to him now, so spent, defeated, and raw. So raw, I can’t avoid it. Even there in the dark, my eyes are wide open. I know the truth. It’s plain to see. I’m more than fucked.
I love Stuart Wiseman.
I cave, and instead of leaving, I tighten my grip, hoping to chase the big, painful feelings away. Hoping to hide behind him. Hoping he’ll keep me safe, even though he’s the very thing I’m afraid of. I tighten my grip more. More and more, I can’t help it. I want to be close to him. I’m desperate for it. I hunger for it even though I know he’ll grow impatient soon and start squirming out of my embrace. I know he will. Everyone does. Any second now, he’s going to tell me he’s too hot, or I’m too heavy, or he needs to roll over to fall asleep.
I wait and wait.
He doesn’t.
More time passes. A lot more. So much time that I realize with a sudden jolt that he’s not going to send me to my bed. And he’s probably not even going to ask me to move. As that realization dawns on me, another one hits me. A big one. A huge one—I don’t care if this is an arrangement. I don’t care if this thing between us isn’t a relationship. I don’t even care if I feel more for him than he feels for me. It hurts, but I don’t care. I can’t stop. I don’t want to. If need be, I’ll do the loving. I’ll do all of it. I’m strong. I can handle it. Stuart does so much for me. He takes care of me like no one else ever has. I can do this.
It hurts, but I can do it.
Besides, I like pain.
I have a lot of love to give. I always have. So much love. All the love. Enough love for both of us.
Too much for other people.
The perfect amount.
Stuart’s words from earlier find me and make a home in my heart. I take a deep breath. My thoughts start to slow, fading and growing dreamy. Limbs heavy and listless as sleep draws near and starts pulling me under.
I have enough love for two people,I tell myself over and over.
The thought soothes me. It sets me on course. It makes me fully aware of my mission, possibly for the first time in my life. My purpose. I’ll love enough for both of us. For Stuart and me. That’s what I’ll do.
My mission and purpose are accompanied by a subtle prickle. A limit. I’ll happily love for two, that’s fine, but what I won’t do is go back to my bed. In fact, from now on, I won’t be doing anything that takes me away from Stuart for any great length of time.
“Daddy,” I whisper, a man with a mission. A man who wants to hear myself say it more than I care about waking him up. “You know how you said I could live with you for six months?”
“Mmmm,” he sighs.
“And you know how I’ve already been here for four and a half months?”
“Mm.”
“So I guess I should be starting to look for a new place to rent any day now, huh?” His hand, which was on my back, stops moving, and I hear his jaw click as he swallows. I don’t wait for his answer. I don’t need it. “Well, I’m not doing that. Thought you should know. I’m not moving out. I’m staying right here.”
He expels a quick puff of air. A small little snort followed by a small little word.
“Good.”
I’m woken by a reminder pinging on my phone: Stitches Out Today.
Stuart put the reminder on my phone, so it’s fully filled in, right down to the address of urgent care and the name and number of the MD we saw last time.
The dread that always accompanies a trip to the doctor sinks to my feet and mixes with a heavy cocktail of doom and excitement.
