“Why?” he repeated.
“Yeah.Why?” I asked.
Damon opened his mouth and tried to speak but no words came out. He chased whatever was there down with a swallow of beer, and I waited him out.
“It’s not normal,” he finally said.
“Who’s to say what’s normal?”
“It’s not like I could take them home to meet my parents at Christmas,” he snapped. “Hey, Mom, this is my girlfriend Athena, and she’s also my Domme, and this is her boyfriend?—”
“Our boyfriend.”
Damon narrowed his eyes at me. “Our boyfriends, Wes and Grant.”
“And your parents are dead,” I reminded him.
Damon downed the rest of his beer and then gave me the finger. I took the empty bottle out of his hand and set it down behind me on the table, then I took his hands in mine and squeezed his fingers.
“A wise man once told me it’s okay to do things for yourself.”
He pursed his lips, knowing full well he was the wise man, and it was advice he’d given me while I sat on a couch and he on a table between my legs, a life insurance check with too many zeroes for my liking on the cushion beside me.
“That was different,” he argued.
“No, it’s not.”
“That was the rest of your life.”
“And this is yours.” I stood up and took the bottle into the kitchen, tossing it into the recycle bin before washing my hands. “If you don’t want the mess of being with three people, then don’t be with three people. But don’tnotbe with them just because you think that’s what other people expect.”
I went back to the couch and sat down beside him, rucking up his shirt and counting my way up his ribs until I got to the fourth one where I knew he had a tattoo of two bees with sheets over their bodies, wings and eyes poking out from holes cut into the cloth.
“You have a pair of boo-bees tattooed on your ribs.” I shoved my fingertip into them, then walked my hand up toward anotherpiece on his shoulder blade. “And I don’t even want to talk about this abomination.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is since when have you cared what anyone thinks about what you do?”
I pinched him and jumped up from the couch before he could smack me, but at least the change in topic had gotten him smiling a little.
“It’s not that serious,” I promised him. “And if it is that serious, then it’s worth it.”
“I know you’re right.” Damon stood and scrubbed his hands down his face, grunting into his palms before squaring his shoulders and nodding his agreement. “You’re right.”
“I just want you happy.”
He closed the space between us and folded me into the safety of his arms. I rested my chin on his shoulder and returned the hug.
“I want you happy too.”
“You went on an actual date?” he asked.
“Actual date.”
“So it’s serious with him?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Very.”
