“Why so eager?”
“You know why, don’t be a shit.”
His lips twitch. “You like my stories, Trésor?”
“I love them.” I palm his face. “And you.”
He reads the eagerness in my face and frowns. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you today.”
“I don’t care.”
He presses his lips to mine. “Trésor, this one will upset you.”
The last few weeks have been a dream, more than that, a honeymoon of sorts. We haven’t argued…much. It’s like we’ve resumed our life back in Triple Falls. The brief sad looks we share over our past are overcome easily by the victory of the new reality we’re creating.
We fuck like bloodthirsty animals every morning and make love every night. My bad dreams are getting scarce, and when I wake up, he’s with me, kissing me, inside me, chasing whatever remnants remain away. Sadly, his anxieties haven’t eased, and I know it’s because of the secrets he keeps close. Day by day he continues to bare more pieces of his history, leaving me temporarily satisfied.
Once, I came close to beating him in chess, and I gloated for far too long because he punished me that night for a good half hour before he let me come. And as our old habits of stargazing and drinking Louis merge with new habits we’ve collected here in Virginia—we’ve hit a stride I didn’t think was possible so soon in our new union. With one week left until Thanksgiving, it seems as though the worst of our struggle is behind us.
“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” I say, fully confident that’s the case.
He gives me a nod and goes back to his task of cooking, something he looks forward to and takes painstaking effort daily to do—in which I reap the rewards.
With one last reassuring kiss, I rush into the bedroom, tossing my purse onto the bed and take the seat at the desk.
Cher Journal,
Over the last weeks, we’ve become closer, closer than we were before, but there is still a space between us, and we both know why.
I’m hiding something from her, and she knows it. But this confession I’ve kept close for years, and when I finally tell her what it is, I’m afraid she won’t understand it the way I need her to. I want so much to tell her, but the more time that passes, the stronger we become. Sharing this with her could change everything between us again. Neither of us wants that, but I need her to know I’m waiting to tell her this for a reason. A selfish reason because for the first time in years of endless war in head and heart, I’m close to content. I don’t want my fears to become hers. So, I need her to wait just a little longer. I can only hope she will understand.
I’ve known for a lot longer that he’s been hiding something from me, and I needed no confirmation by way of his daily confession.
Anger surfaces as I read through his words again and slap the journal closed. If I have any grudge or resentment left, it’s because of this.
Knowing I’m in for a fight and completely unable to let it go, I stand and forgo my shower, walking back to the kitchen to find him missing, chopped vegetables abandoned on the counter. Opening the back door, I pause when I hear hushed conversation as Beau barks somewhere in the garden.
“This isn’t just going to go away. You have missed two calls with me.”
A woman’s voice.
He’s on FaceTime, and I step closer to get a look at her. Jealousy singes me as she comes into view, and of course, she’s fucking beautiful. She looks to be early-to-mid-thirties, dark hair and eyes, a melodic French lilt in her voice.
“I’m aware, Sonia. I’ve been preoccupied.”
“I can’t keep making an effort with you if you won’t speak with me or return my calls.”