“What each of us needs?”
Having it put into words out loud causes my blood to pump faster. “Yes.”
A moment passes while we look at each other, the wind picking up around us.
Tobias slowly sets his mug down on the stone patio and stands. He takes two steps until he’s towering over me, then pulls me to my feet. The only part of him that’s touching me is his hand, which encircles my wrist, but I’m close enough to feel his body heat and that alone turns me into a winded mess. In seconds, I’m trembling.
“Can you sense what I need right now?” he asks, his words feathering my mouth.
I can only manage a nod. “You need to know I’m sleeping with you for more than what your body can give me.”
That statement makes him start, his breath going choppy. “I…Elise…”
I wasn’t expecting to say that either. Maybe that’s when truth is in its rawest form. When you don’t think about letting it out, it just flies free on its own. “I’m in this for your heart, too.” I wind our fingers together and tow him behind me to the back door. “Come inside and I’ll make sure you feel it.”
Time is ceasing to have any meaning within these four walls.
I make love with Tobias in the cool dark, looking deeper than I have before and finding so much untapped strength and vulnerability inside of him. So much that he’s willing to explore with me over time. I look him in the eye as he moves on top of me, showing him how much I like who he is. Who he’ll become. Who we are together, within the circle of four. It’s a shattering experience that leaves us both shaking and gasping, holding on to one another’s hands. The hours together deplete us and we drop into a deep sleep.
I could never have expected to wake up and find that everything has turned to shit.
It’s late that afternoon after yet another shower and I’m staring down at my email inbox in disbelief, rereading the message from Karina for the third time, positive I made a mistake or looking for some winking emoji to tell me she’s joking. There’s nothing to reassure me, though, just those same damning lines in the body of the email.
* * *
Elise,
* * *
The timing of this isn’t ideal, but I’m hoping you’ll see this as a bright spot of sun in the middle of a storm. You’re going to be published! I passed your piece on to the human-interest editor, Lisette, and she ate it up like chocolate gelato. Now for the amazing part—it’s going to run in tomorrow morning’s paper. The tram power outage is still fresh in everyone’s memory and she thinks that might lead to more shares of the online version. We’re going to make it anonymous, considering the private nature of the material, not to mention we’re trying to keep you less visible until we figure everything out with Alexander. Congratulations, nonetheless! You’re a writer. I’m not hiring you, so don’t get too excited. But you’re a writer. A good one.
* * *
Karina
* * *
I leave my laptop open on the bed beside a napping Tobias and pad to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water from the tap. I set it down without drinking, because my arm is too weak to lift the glass to my mouth. My article is going to be published.
My article is going to be published.
There might be a part of me that’s extremely proud of the accomplishment, but there is a far bigger part of me that’s reeling from shock and denial. I didn’t submit it to Karina to be published. I sent it to her for notes. A critique. A professional eye. I didn’t expect it to be good enough for publication—and I haven’t even told Tobias, Gabe and Banks about what I wrote.
Everything has changed since I sent that story to Karina.
When I think of the tone I used, so flippant, I full body cringe. These men are layered and complicated and I reduced them to surface level descriptions that I would never use now that I’ve…bonded with them. In a way that feels almost spiritual. I’m in love with them.
And there is no way I can let the article publish. No way.
Not until it has been repaired and rewritten. Not until I’ve had a chance to speak to the men about it. Anonymous or not, I can’t publicly cheapen this relationship or let people think it’s a temporary fling. A joke. I treasure it too much. I treasure them too much.
I take my phone out of my pocket and text Karina.
* * *
Thank you for the encouragement, but I don’t want the piece published. Repeat: I do not want it published. Please confirm when it has been pulled.
* * *