“Alex.” I get up and almost trip over his black backpack at the end of the couch.
“Come on, you can’t blame me for trying. It’s been sixty-nine days since we last, you know.” His smirk widens.
Like I need reminding.
I fight against my primal urge to respond and push his hand away when it reaches for me.
“I’ve barely been with you for ten minutes.”
His puppy dog eyes and turned-down lips pull at my heartstrings when he gets up and steps toward me. My body is no longer willing to pull away when the new and unfamiliar feeling of his beard rubs against my skin. His lips dance across mine.
“Alex,” I say firmly but softly. I push him back slightly, trying to stop the last of my blood from leaving my brain and flowing straight toward my cock.
“I’m sorry.” He lowers his head as he reaches for my hands and mumbles something under his breath before looking up at me. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Maybe we should discuss that letter of yours.”
I sit back down on the couch and motion for him to do the same.
I’ve had two and a half weeks now to process everything he said. I’ve combed through every word of the four pages, and feel more open now to what could unfold. But I’m still cautious aboutreengaging after June and September. And there are still some blanks that my mind needs filled in.
Alexander fiddles with his watch and looks over at the drawn curtains.
I start talking when he finally turns to face me.
“Thank you for sending me the letter. I can’t imagine it was easy for you to write. And I’m sorry it took me till now to respond. I can imagine that, after June, you felt like I was punishing you again, but I needed to reconcile everything in my head.”
Really, it was more to let the anger subside, but I don’t need to go there. Not now.
“Reconcile?” Alexander’s shoulders tense up.
“I needed to square the idea of the guy I met back in June, and the guy in the pages of your letter, with the guy who left me high and dry in the hotel in London. The guy who said those things in the hotel room in New York back in September.”
“Oh.” Alexander’s shoulders drop.
“The main thing I’m trying to say is, yes, I do still have feelings for you. Of course I do. But if I’m going to give this another shot, I need more honesty, more transparency. And to take things slower this time.”
Alexander reaches for my hand.
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” There’s an eagerness in his eyes.
I debate whether to ask the questions that still plague me before taking a deep breath and throwing caution to the wind.
“I didn’t know about your battle with addiction. I’m still trying to work out if Samuel was more than an assistant to you. I want?—”
“He was my ex.” Alexander cuts me off. “He’s the one I wroteMy Anchorfor, the day before he died. He’s the one all the songs on my last album are about.”
I shudder at his response and start to withdraw my hand, but stop myself. I’ve wanted radical honesty from him ever since heleft me in June, and here he is giving it to me. Yet I can’t help but instantly feel jealous of Samuel. To immediately measure myself against a guy I’ve never met. Wondering if, just like in Alexander’s songCompare To You, I won’t stack up against him.
Alexander squeezes my hand and pulls at my arm.
“I’ll answer any questions you have, but promise me, whatever I answer, you’ll try to understand before judging me?”
He rakes his free hand through his hair when it falls down over his forehead, and I take a deep breath. I nod and go through the list of questions in my head, weighing up which one to ask next.
I have a feeling this will be a long night.
Monday
