to come here. Now, she still isn’t happy, if happiness was what she was seeking. She still doesn’t know what she wants. She only knows that she doesn’t want her children raised in theUS .”
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” he says. “I’m pissed as hell at you, but I’m sorry. I hope you two can come up with a solution.”
I sigh, making excuses for her, even though I don’t need to. “She’s more French than she’d like to believe.” The foyer becomes quiet, neither of us moving, the plaster walls too thick to hear anything happening behind the solid wood door. Funny thing how time seems so very agonizingly slow in moments like this, a second seeming like an hour.
“There’s no fixing this, is there?”
My mouth twitches, “Which fix? There’s a lot that needs fixed.”
His answer is stopped by George’s return. “She’s fine now.”
“What happened?” Garrett demands. “Why did she collapse?”
“I need to talk to Thomas, Garrett, could you step outside?”
George waits for Garrett to step outside and close the door before turning to me. “It’s nothing serious, but I wanted what I am going to tell you to be heard by you—not Garrett.”
I frown, worry knotting in my belly, and I am not one who worries.
“It seems that Celia has limited experience with men.”
My frown deepens.
“Aside from Lion and Garrett, there haven’t been any other lovers.”
My jaw drops, quickly corrected, but my brain is still rolling on the floor waiting for the further explanation I know is coming.
“She said you were leading her to the bedroom when she fainted?”
“To put her to bed, not to have sex with her,” I defend.
“You haven’t had sex with her?”
George sounds annoyingly surprised that I haven’t had sex with her yet. It makes me angry. “No!”
“And you had no intention of having sex with her tonight?”
My mouth opens and shuts twice before I decide to remain silent, my silence a larger betrayal of the truth than if I’d lied.
“She’s terrified of having sex with you. She thinks that if she has sex with you, Garrett won’t take her back, and she thought that sex was imminent when she collapsed. She didn’t know how to refuse you without losing this .”
“What?”
My exclamation echoes Garrett’s, both of us saying the same thing, though our inflection making our difference in meaning clear. George and I turn to find him loitering in the doorway of the living room, he must have re-entered the house through the kitchen, coming in behind us.
“I told you to wait outside!” George demands.
“And miss this?” Garrett asks, amusement making his voice a higher pitch. “No way!”
For some reason it bothers me immensely for Garrett to know I’m not having sex with her. I pace away, retreating to the kitchen for an iced tea, not surprised at all when they follow me. Ridiculously, we sit at the kitchen island, silent, sipping, thinking. The kitchen window is open, emitting a soft ocean breeze. The sound of crashing waves and bleating seagulls arrive with a quickening wind. A glance outside reveals darkening clouds on the horizon. A storm is coming, though I’d estimate it still hours away. Tonight we’ll be in for it.
George breaks the silence. “Is sex necessary to make this arrangement work?”
“Yes!” collides with “No!”
Garrett glares at me. “The agreement was for you to top her for three months. You can top her without sex.”
“I don’t want to top her without sex.” I stop myself, irritated that I sound so adolescent, “I mean to say—I never planned, I want…” I start and stop myself so many times, I’m confused. “I am going to continue this relationship in the manner I see fit and there’s no room for discussion.”
“I feel we should discuss this.” Garrett slams his empty glass onto the granite countertop, ice cubes clinking against each other as they resettle, and I am surprised when the glass doesn’t shatter.
I stand my
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” he says. “I’m pissed as hell at you, but I’m sorry. I hope you two can come up with a solution.”
I sigh, making excuses for her, even though I don’t need to. “She’s more French than she’d like to believe.” The foyer becomes quiet, neither of us moving, the plaster walls too thick to hear anything happening behind the solid wood door. Funny thing how time seems so very agonizingly slow in moments like this, a second seeming like an hour.
“There’s no fixing this, is there?”
My mouth twitches, “Which fix? There’s a lot that needs fixed.”
His answer is stopped by George’s return. “She’s fine now.”
“What happened?” Garrett demands. “Why did she collapse?”
“I need to talk to Thomas, Garrett, could you step outside?”
George waits for Garrett to step outside and close the door before turning to me. “It’s nothing serious, but I wanted what I am going to tell you to be heard by you—not Garrett.”
I frown, worry knotting in my belly, and I am not one who worries.
“It seems that Celia has limited experience with men.”
My frown deepens.
“Aside from Lion and Garrett, there haven’t been any other lovers.”
My jaw drops, quickly corrected, but my brain is still rolling on the floor waiting for the further explanation I know is coming.
“She said you were leading her to the bedroom when she fainted?”
“To put her to bed, not to have sex with her,” I defend.
“You haven’t had sex with her?”
George sounds annoyingly surprised that I haven’t had sex with her yet. It makes me angry. “No!”
“And you had no intention of having sex with her tonight?”
My mouth opens and shuts twice before I decide to remain silent, my silence a larger betrayal of the truth than if I’d lied.
“She’s terrified of having sex with you. She thinks that if she has sex with you, Garrett won’t take her back, and she thought that sex was imminent when she collapsed. She didn’t know how to refuse you without losing this .”
“What?”
My exclamation echoes Garrett’s, both of us saying the same thing, though our inflection making our difference in meaning clear. George and I turn to find him loitering in the doorway of the living room, he must have re-entered the house through the kitchen, coming in behind us.
“I told you to wait outside!” George demands.
“And miss this?” Garrett asks, amusement making his voice a higher pitch. “No way!”
For some reason it bothers me immensely for Garrett to know I’m not having sex with her. I pace away, retreating to the kitchen for an iced tea, not surprised at all when they follow me. Ridiculously, we sit at the kitchen island, silent, sipping, thinking. The kitchen window is open, emitting a soft ocean breeze. The sound of crashing waves and bleating seagulls arrive with a quickening wind. A glance outside reveals darkening clouds on the horizon. A storm is coming, though I’d estimate it still hours away. Tonight we’ll be in for it.
George breaks the silence. “Is sex necessary to make this arrangement work?”
“Yes!” collides with “No!”
Garrett glares at me. “The agreement was for you to top her for three months. You can top her without sex.”
“I don’t want to top her without sex.” I stop myself, irritated that I sound so adolescent, “I mean to say—I never planned, I want…” I start and stop myself so many times, I’m confused. “I am going to continue this relationship in the manner I see fit and there’s no room for discussion.”
“I feel we should discuss this.” Garrett slams his empty glass onto the granite countertop, ice cubes clinking against each other as they resettle, and I am surprised when the glass doesn’t shatter.
I stand my
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