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e it. You were glowing like a lamp when you introduced him to us. It was in your voice, in the way you touched his arm. And you're right, it's not one-sided. He was measuring us up the same way we were measuring him, making sure we were the good friends you thought we were."
"So Billie was right. Dinner was a sexist testosterone exchange, the 'Let's all make sure the mindless female knows what's best for her.' How charming." She poked him.
Marcus pursed his lips. "We are what we are. I expect Des knows just how intelligent you are, just as we do. Yet when it comes to someone we love, we respond to any threat, not with rational thought or the right words, but with our hearts."
"Yeah." She thought of the kidney offer and winced now, too. "What do I do to make this right?"
"You didn't do anything wrong." Marcus said it firmly, tipping up her chin and giving it a tap of reproof. "Go see him after you've calmed down, and he's had some time to do the same, and talk it out, figure out how to go forward. That simple. No blame on either side."
"No matter how pigheaded and stupid he's being."
Marcus snorted. "Yeah. I'd probably dial that back."
"He's the Dom I've always wanted and didn't know I did," she said softly, looking at her hands in her lap. She gave Marcus a glance from beneath her lashes. "Don't get me wrong, I still wouldn't kick you out of bed or anything."
"My feelings are bruised, but I'll recover. As long as you feel the same about Thomas."
"Absolutely. I'd take him down in a heartbeat and eat him with a spoon."
She fended him off when he tried to tug her hair, but that was a distraction. He pinched her side, hard.
"Ow. Meanie." She smacked his arm, but then he captured her hand and tangled it with his, resting the knot of their fingers on his knee. Sobering, she dropped her head on his shoulder. "What if I lose him? I don't need a man to feel safe, but Marcus, he makes me feel so safe and loved. He's so strong and warm. He's this force all around me when he ties me up, when he talks to me a certain way, looks at me a certain way... I know I probably sound stupid."
"Not at all. As a Dom and a man, he'd get a fierce joy out of hearing you say it, so you should say it to him sometime."
"But how could I survive losing that?"
"The way you survive anything with that indomitable personality of yours. Your superpower, Julie, is your ability to overcome any storm to find the sunshine again and share it with others." He sighed. "And failing that, Thomas and I will make the sacrifice, convert to bisexualism and you can become our sex slave."
"That's good to know. I'm going to cry for a little bit now and then I'll be okay."
"All right." Marcus folded his arms around her and held her closer as the sobs surged up. "I'm right here, baby. I'll hold you until you're okay. But from here forward, this is Des's job, so he better get his fucking act together."
Chapter Eighteen
She thought it out. After she left Marcus, she felt better about things and, after she made a few more stops, that good feeling continued to build. When she finally texted Des, she didn't know if he'd answer, but she counted on him having had some time to calm down, as Marcus had said.
Where are you? I want to come see you.
About five minutes later, when she thought maybe she'd been wrong and was struggling with a sinking feeling as a result, her phone pinged with an address. Nothing but an address, but it was enough.
It was out in Huntersville, but she used the forty-five minute drive to listen to some upbeat tunes, pick up a pair of oatmeal cookies from Showmar's and consume them with a Coke Zero, and keep in the right frame of mind. Everything was going to be all right. She remembered Marcus's arms around her, him saying that to her. He wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. Marcus didn't lie to her.
She wasn't typically clingy, but she was glad he and Thomas would be around all week. She grinned, thinking of Thomas painting backgrounds. If they could add to the playbill that the sets were painted by Thomas Wilder, that would draw in even more patrons. Everything about the theater effort so far had seemed blessed by good fortune. It was also how she'd met Des. She wasn't going to let one setback turn it into a Greek tragedy. She wasn't going to let him turn it into a Greek tragedy.
Okay, remember what Marcus said. Dial back shrew mode.
The address wasn't a house, as she'd expected. It was a park. Latta Plantation Park was accessible from a side road that took her past a couple horse farms and the Carolina Raptor Center. She sent him an additional text to locate him, and found him at the picnic area and kayak launch by Mountain Lake.
He was straddling a picnic bench and facing away from her, staring out at the water. Scooting up behind him in the same position, she slid her arms around his waist. She threaded her fingers up under his untucked shirt, stroking his tense abdomen, the fine hair that arrowed down between the layers of muscle, and laid her cheek on his back.
"It's a nice view here. The lake's not bad, either."
It was nowhere near her strongest material, but it was heartfelt. When she'd driven up and seen him sitting there, his hair loose on his shoulders, his long-fingered hand resting spread on the table top, the denim of his jeans stretched over ass and thighs, his T-shirt delineating the set of his resilient shoulders, her heart had been like a rag wrung out of all its blood.
What if I lose him?
What if you spend your time with him worrying about losing him? How pointless would that be?
