I have to tell him. I have to. He’s coming and I’m not going to chicken out.
The sounds of the shower are loud, but not enough to drown out the voice in my head. The one that keeps playing over the worst case scenario when I tell him my secret. Bradley. The man I hired to work through my issues.
But there was more than help. There was laughter, gentle touches. The kisses, ones that were so passionate and full of desire.
I press my forehead to the cool tile, the splash of water shifting, now more a whisper down my spine. I try to breathe. To count. To reason with myself.
“We were apart. Broken up. On a break. Jefferson can’t be mad that I was with someone else. Not when I heard he was too. But he doesn’t know that it got back to me.”
But it’s not just the truth, or that I was with someone else. It’s the feelings I have for Bradley. I want him. I want Jefferson. For the three of us to be a unit. Am I being greedy?
I’m falling in love. And that love isn’t just for the man who’s about to meet me here in my apartment.
I turn off the water. I step out, pulling the towel off the rack and dry myself with robotic, memorized movements. The mirror’s fogged up, and maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. I don’t want to see my face, not right now anyway.
Boxers. Jeans. My body dresses on autopilot. I pull my shirt over my head, my arms pushing through the openings as I smooth it down, then tuck it into my pants.
I’ve just zipped and buttoned my jeans when I hear footsteps. Jefferson.
“Malcolm,” he calls, his voice echoing lightly down the hall. “I’m here.”
My stomach tightens. A knot forming as my intestines metaphorically twist together.
This is it. My time is up and now I have to come clean. I just hope that he sees my position and we can figure something out.
“In the bedroom,” I call back to him, taking a breath before plastering a smile on my face.
He steps into the room, cutting the distance between us with long graceful strides, taking me in his arms and kissing me deeply. I groan into his mouth as my hands slip around his waist, holding on to him tightly. As if I’m trying to keep him from running once he hears my news.
“Mmm, I’ve been dreaming about having you in my arms since I left this morning,” he growls into my mouth.
“Me too.” My voice comes out husky with need. This man always finds a way to turn me into a pile of goo with his words.
“I love you, Malcolm. So fucking much.”
My heart pounds at his confession, but fear rears its ugly head that once I tell him the truth, he’s going to regret those words.
“Let’s get the talking done so we can eat.” His deep voice rumbles.
“Okay.” We pull apart and he guides me toward the bed. Nope. Not the place for this conversation. “Let’s go to the living room.” Jefferson’s eyebrow raises in question, but he doesn’t say anything, just changes direction.
We sit down on the couch, our bodies angled toward each other, our knees brushing together. I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. Anxiety weaving around me, threatening to cut off my breath.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Jefferson asks, his voice cold.
My head jerks up, my eyes gazing into his. “What?” Does he really think that?
“Are you having second thoughts about us? About being in public? You seemed so gung ho earlier to go out tonight, and now you look like you're about to pass out or throw up.”
I reach out, frantically taking his hand in mine and gripping it tightly. “I am not having second thoughts. Not about us. Not about taking it publicly. When I told you I was done hiding, I meant every word of it.”
“Then what is it? Did someone die?”
Just possibly our relationship I want to say out loud, but I bite my tongue and keep it to myself.
One more deep breath. One final pep talk to myself. I’m going to be honest and let the chips fall where they may.
“No one died.” I smile, though it doesn’t quite reach across my face. “Losing you because of my insecurities was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. But it kicked my ass in gear, because I knew if I didn’t deal with my issues, then I’d lose you.”
