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“What…what’s your confession?” I ask, staring up at him.
His eyes are on my body as he answers. “The first week I moved in…I was in my room, in the morning. My alarm had just gone off and I stood up and looked out the window.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“I could see you down here, through your windows. You hadn’t closed your curtains the night before, or maybe you had, but they were open that morning…”
I stand perfectly still as his hands move down my body, taking my panties in his grip so he can push them down my legs. The tight material falls away once it reaches my knees, and then I’m standing there naked while he touches me and finishes his admission.
“You’d just woken up too, and you were getting ready for work. I should have looked away,” he says, not sounding the least bit remorseful over his actions. “But I didn’t.” He starts to bend down on his knees, looking up at me with his piercing blue eyes. “I watched as you tugged your pajama top over your head. And you know what I found out that day, Natalie?”
I blink, unable to form a thought, much less a reply.
“I found out just how fucking unbelievable you look without any clothes on.” Then his gaze returns to my body as his hands wrap around the backs of my thighs. His mouth kisses my stomach, and then my hip, and then he moves lower. His breath caresses the center of my thighs and I squeeze my eyes closed, listening as he continues, “You should see it…the way I see you.” His hands cover my skin, as if he’s trying to span as much of me as he possibly can. “How am I supposed to resist you?”
I fall down onto him, kissing him and pushing him back onto the rug. It’s like I’m a conqueror, on top of him, claiming him as my discovery.
Connor and I spend the night in the guest house together, in our own world. We’re suspended in the moment. He makes me feel so much—too much—sinking into me all the way, rolling his hips slowly, seducing me in waves. I try to look away and he brings my attention back to him by cupping my jaw. Vulnerable blue eyes meet mine.
I realize something while we’re on my bed, a scary revelation that comes with a challenge. Through my adolescence and early adulthood, I’ve been shaped by the words of my mom. I’ve internalized her regrets and made them my own, and I was careful to frame the world in a way that left me solitary. My own savior and my own worst enemy. She never wanted me to have to rely on a man for my own happiness or stability, and while that’s a good sentiment to pass on to your children, say it often enough and those words twist into something that festers: the belief that a life can only be lived well if it’s in isolation. I’ve paved my own way, pushed myself to excel in a demanding field, and looking back, I realize now I’ve never been comfortable relying on the help of others. It’s not an accomplishment, though—it’s a flaw. I’m not even sure I know how to be in a healthy relationship. I’ve pushed Connor away time and time again because it’s my default setting. I’m meant to be married to medicine. That’s the only way I can remain in total control of my life.
I tell Connor this, getting the words out slowly, processing them with him. Sometimes my sentences trail off as I try to grasp for the right word, but he stays quiet, listening. His hand brushes the hair away from my face and I burrow deeper down into the covers, pressing myself flush with him. We’re warm still, heated by the friction of two bodies that can’t stay apart.
“I guess I just wanted to apologize,” I say, frowning up at the ceiling, trying hard to keep my voice from cracking. “For not trusting you from the start.”
“Natalie? Natalie, look at me. Do you remember when we talked about love and you said it was supposed to be simple? Simple.” He laughs softly.
I’m a little defensive when I reply, “That’s the way it’s portrayed sometimes. Isn’t that why they call it the honeymoon stage? Because, at least in the beginning, it feels easy?”
“Yeah, well, my love for you has never felt easy. Overpowering, dangerous, scary…” He trails off as his hand caresses my arm. “Gentle, even, but not easy. It should tell you something that I’m willing to put in the effort to make us work, however it needs to happen. I’m not going to stop wanting you even if you need space from time to time. We’ll make it work. All of it. We can move into this little guest house and turn it into a love shack. We can put a bassinet right in that corner and take turns waking up in the middle of the night to change poopy diapers. Or you can move in with me. Move into my townhouse—”
