“No.” Funny, though, only now I remembered what Nina had said about her own loneliness. She wasn’t upset with what I had done, just wanted to know how I had survived it. She wanted help. I had totally shut her out.
“But you’re okay with me here?” Edward asked, so again I put Nina aside.
“In town? No.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I know.”
“You need me.”
“You don’t need me.”
“Are you kidding? I need someone who knows who I am. Not who I am now. Who I was. Besides, you’re a good lay.”
“Good lays are a dime a dozen.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” I was suddenly hesitant. “So… it was okay?”
“Better than okay. Better thanever.”
I raised my head at that. “Was I not so good before?”
He pushed my head back to his chest. “You were great before. You’re just greater now. That thing you did… the back of my thighs? No one loves me like you.”
Seeming determined to test the theory, he took me again. And yes, he had a way of inspiring me. I had never been inhibited when it came to sex with Edward. Where he had size, I had finesse. Where he was athletic,I was creative, which made total sense. Clay was my thing. I knew about kneading and shaping. I knew about fingering rough spots and smoothing others. I loved texture, and earthiness. I loved the beauty of the male form.
“Say it,” he whispered when he was on the cusp of climax.
Right there with him, I could barely think the words, much less breathe them, so my plea was as internal as not. “Pull out.”
That wasn’t what he had in mind. “Say youloveme.”
I simply dug my fingers into his hips to keep them moving. I was close, so close.
“I love you,” he gasped with one thrust, and with the next, “You love me.Sayit.”
I couldn’t, not yet. And then it didn’t matter, because he did pull out, and still we came together, and when he lay exhausted in the notch of my legs, he told me he loved me again.
It was an illusion, for sure. I was as flawed as a person could be. But it was what my damaged heart wanted, so for those few hours in the dark, I believed.
***
Morning arrived. After sleeping alone for more than four years, I should have felt a visceral alarm at the smell of a man in my bed. But my familiarity with Edward was so ingrained that from the first moment of awareness, I thought nothing of the soft snoring just above my forehead. We hadn’t moved much during the night. My cheek was on his shoulder now, but the whole front of me hugged his side, and our legs remained entwined.
I didn’t move at first. Having another beating heart with me was precious. With the forest sky starting to brighten, and the house quiet save the rush of heat through the vents, I listened to it until the reality of it brought back the reality of the night before. My reality was about being flawed, and it always returned.
Taking care not to wake Edward, I removed my cheek first, then myleg, and rolled slowly away. Easing open a dresser drawer, I lifted out clean clothes, then crept to the door, slipped into the hall, and reclosed the door.
In the bathroom, I removed my makeup. There was my scar, and, inside the medicine chest, taped right there behind the makeup remover, my mug shot. I had the lightest heat of whisker burn on my inner thigh, but if it was a contest for my attention, the scar and mug shot won hands down. Whisker burns went away. These did not.
Resigned, I took a short shower. Not knowing how much time I’d have until Edward woke up, I quickly put on my new face. For a split second, it occurred to me to let him see the scar—no, notlethim, butforcehim to see it. Easy to sayI love youwhen there were no reminders around.
But I couldn’t. It was enough that I see the scar myself.
Once it was hidden, I redid my hair and quietly, very quietly went down the stairs.
