Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(19)

I twisted around to look at him. “Are you serious? Is your mind totally poisoned?”

“He’s not the same.”

“No, he’s worse. Let me ask you something: Were you the one who told him about me and Jonathan? Maybe you mentioned the bruises on my wrists?”

Darren pursed his lips and looked down. “He had an idea already. Geraldine Stark spent a couple of nights with Drazen and came back with some stories. To Kev, it was like a lightning bolt.”

Geraldine f**king Stark. Of course. The artist who put the trompe l’oeil on the side of Kevin’s building had to have been with Jonathan. She told Kevin, probably post-coital, and then Kevin went ahead and told Darren. Together, they’d strategized how to get us back together.

“It bothers me that we worked together so many hours at a stretch to make this thing, and the whole time, you and Kevin are planning a reconciliation I don’t want.”

“What do you want?”

“Right now? To be left alone by anyone with a dick. You’re all trouble. I want to never again hear who Jonathan f**ked before I met him. Even if it was the first lady or Brad Pitt, I don’t want to know.”

“Why not?” His tone was confrontational, as if he was daring me to give him the truth.

“You know God damn well everything about this hurts. So stop being a prick.” I turned toward the window, shutting out further argument. We travelled in the fold of time between day and night, when headlights got turned on and the streetlights went from dead cold to humming half light.

“Did you open the envelope I left?” he asked.

“No, did you?”

“No. Is it still in the house?”

I turned away from the window to reengage our conversation. “I left it at your place.”

“Not even curious?”

“It’s probably a family tree.”

“Then why not open it?”

“I haven’t had time.” I could see, from his expression, he didn’t believe me. “I need to talk to him. And I need it to be clean. About us. No external shit. If there’s nothing in there, it’s nothing. If it’s external shit, then it’s not fair for me to know it.”

His eyes locked onto mine, and I felt naked. “You want him back.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Fuck. You want him.” He shook his head in a way that indicated nothing less than disappointment and shame.

“What? Is that a problem for you?”

“I should have driven up.”

“Are we back on the whore thing?”

“Don’t hit me again!” He covered his cheeks with his hands. “Please. My manhood couldn’t take it.”

Despite the fact that I wanted to belt him, or yell at him, or even shut down and go ice cold, I laughed.

He smiled and said, “Can you tell me, do you think this is you liking to get tied up? Or are you doing it because he likes it?”

The woman in the seat in front of us turned her head a little, and I shot her a look. She had a baby on her lap and a hemp sling over her shoulders.

“Both,” I said, looking straight at her because f**k her. I was ashamed and horrified, and that made me feel hostile. She turned away. “It’s his reputation I don’t like. And everyone knowing. That’s coloring the type of attention I’m getting from the industry.

“I want to reassure you. I want to tell you this is who I am, and this is me now and forever, and I’m so happy I discovered this side of myself. But I don’t know. Everything about it is wrapped up in him. I can’t imagine letting anyone else touch me like that, which is not what you want to hear. I know that. You think it’s a power thing, and sure, it is. Would it be with anyone else? If I met the right vanilla guy, would I go vanilla?” I shrugged and put up my palms. “It could go either way. I’d have to be in the situation to find out.”

“Well, I like him because of the way he treats you. But I don’t, because of the way he treats you. And I think you’re missing out with Kevin. He loves you.”

“Oh, please give me a break.”

“Deal with it.” He squeezed my hand but looked away. “This is our stop. Let’s get out of here.” He waved to the baby in front of us. The mother held the child tighter.

CHAPTER 16.

JONATHAN

As soon as Will confirmed he couldn’t send anyone to Vancouver, I knew I was going. I’d sleep even less than usual if I didn’t. I arranged a revised manifest, made my calls, packed, and met them on the plane already set to leave that night.

My hope had been that she’d take the plane, I’d slip on with her, and we’d have three solid hours to sort ourselves out. Her fears about what other people thought were well-founded but meaningless. They’d think what they would. She needed to know that what we had was bigger than them and that any concerns she had about being dumped were unfounded. Sexually, she and I needed hard limits. Our discussion had to include how much control she actually exerted when we were alone. I’d gone too far with her without properly setting limits and explaining kinks she had no experience with. In my delight over her, I’d been irresponsible.

I still wasn’t sure how to convince her without touching her. But I felt as though she was slipping away, and I couldn’t let that happen.