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But I am fine, I think to myself.Aren’t I?That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I loved it. I definitely want to do it again.
But I have to admit—there is a hint of something inside me that says I’m not entirelyfine. I just wish I knew what it was so that maybe I could express it to them.
“If Briar’s fine, then I’m fine,” I say, hoping it will be enough.
Immediately, Dean shakes his head. “No. That’s not how you answer that question.”
“What do you want me to say?” I argue, feeling myself getting heated. “I’m not hurt. That was great. I loved it. I’m fine.”
“You just seem tense, that’s all,” he replies.
“Are you dealing with a little guilt?” Briar asks softly.
“No,” I reply immediately, without hesitation.
And I’m not. I can tell that it’s not guilt.
But maybe a little…regret?
“It’s okay,” Dean says, putting up his hands. “It’s normal to have a lot of conflicting feelings after an intense sexual scene that maybe you can’t quite define.”
“Well, don’t you want to talk about them?” Briar asks.
“Not really,” I reply immediately.
“It might help to define them,” she pushes.
“What if I don’t want to define them?” I fight back.
“Caleb, stop,” she argues. “We’re doing this to help each other, remember? Because shoving down feelings and pretending they don’t exist and hoping that they go away is how we got into that fight in the first place.”
She climbs onto her knees and crawls toward me. Taking my hand, she looks into my eyes. “I felt closer to you tonight than I have felt with you in a very long time. Did you feel that too?” she asks.
The softness in her voice shatters me inside.
“Yes,” I reply emphatically. I saw my wife in a new light tonight, and I think I’ve fallen even more in love with her.
“Are you afraid that you’ve hurt me?” she asks.
“No,” I reply. “I trust you. I know you would tell me if I did.”
“I would,” she says with certainty. “Are you afraid this hurts our marriage?” she tries again.
“No,” I say. “But…” The word comes out of my mouth before I even know what I’m about to say. It’s just there, thisbut.
Her eyebrows perk up in interest as she waits.
“But it changes it, doesn’t it?” I say. And there it is. Thechange. The not good, but not bad change.
“You don’t like change,” she says as if she knows my mind better than I do, and maybe she does.
I don’t like change. I hate change. At the slightest hint of change, I turn silent, guarded, and irritable.
I know this about myself. Briar knows this even more. With a tight smile on her face, she strokes her hand down my bearded cheek. As she stares at me, we have a conversation with our eyes that words can’t convey. She settles me, eases my worries, confirms my fears.
From across the room, Dean’s voice chimes in. “I don’t understand what’s changed.”
And I don’t know how to answer that because I don’t know either.
