“You’re polyamorous.”
I sigh.
“I know we’ve not talked about it much,” Maeve says, “but I’ve always been aware that it’s part of who you are. And I want you to know that I don’t want you to change, for me, for us.”
I can’t help but scoff out a disbelieving laugh. “But I am changing, Maeve. You are changing me.”
“But you don’thaveto. I mean, if you want to see other people, have sex with other partners for work or… otherwise. I think I’m okay with it.”
“Really?”
She nods. “I’ve thought about this a lot. One of the advantages, I guess, of being asexual is that I don’t place a lot of weight on sex. That doesn’t mean what we’ve done together isn’t important, because it has been. Very. But it means I don’t think I have traditional views on sexual monogamy.”
“You’re making my head spin,” I say honestly.
“We can talk about it some more another time,” she says, “when your head isn’t spinning, but I just thought it was important to tell you how I felt.”
“I appreciate that, but I have to be completely honest with you, I don’t know how I feel. About monogamy, about polyamory, even about my work. All I know is that I care about you so, so much and I want you in my life. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles that come our way, no matter the things we don’t yet have figured out, I want you, Maeve.”
“I feel the same way.” Maeve’s hands ride up my body and cup my face, her thumbs stroking my jawline. “I… I…”
No. Fuck this. She is not beating me to it. I’m a Water sign too, damn it. I can share my emotions.
“No, Maeve. Let me say it first. I owe you that much.”
Her nervous laughter is the most adorable sound on this planet. “You owe me nothing.”
“Fine, then just let me be selfish and have this?” I ask her, my eyes fixed on hers which are unusually dark in the dim light. She nods. “I love you so very, very much, Maeve. I love you like I know I’m supposed to. I love you like it’s predestined by the universe. I love you like the stars burn, with endless energy, infinite light and constant burning hope.”
A long exhale leaves Maeve’s body and I can see, andfeel, how much she needed that. I make a promise to myself and all the stars in the sky that I will tell her every day so she always, always knows.
“I love you too, Loncey,” she says, and she steps into my body, resting her head on my shoulder. “I don’t have words like you do, but I love you so fucking much.”
I hold her to me tightly for long, long minutes. I refuse to pull away before she does and when she finally does lean back, it’s to look up at me and ask if she can see my painting.
*****
It’s almost one in the morning when we’re finally in bed. My painting isn’t completely finished but I can do the final bits at home one day in the future when I need to relive the most perfect night under the desert sky. There was enough there for Maeve to see herself, a dancing moon-colored silhouette stretched out under the stars. She didn’t say much about the painting but she did give me one of those smiles that only I am lucky enough to see.
And now she’s lying next to me, gently snoring as I stare up at the canvases fixed to my ceiling trying to make out the stars in the darkness. I should be exhausted with all the travel, the worryabout Jessica, and the time zones crossed in the last five days but I’m frustratingly awake, alert even, possibly on edge.
I can’t forget the conversation we had. I can’t forget what she said about monogamy or the possible lack thereof. I can’t forget how crushing it felt to realize we’re not going to be together alone for more than a week until July. I can’t forget how wrong it still feels to have finally found something, someone, I thought I’d never find and to now have to live with her on the other side of the world.
Sighing roughly, I can’t lie awake like this for a second longer. I carefully wriggle out of bed, determined not to wake Maeve, and I find my laptop. I sit on the couch and open it up. Life might be very different now with Maeve in it and work has certainly lost its place as one of my top priorities, but some habits die hard. I open up my editing software, upload a video of me masturbating with a plug in my ass and I get to work hoping that it helps me ignore some of these things I can’t forget.
Chapter Fifty
Maeve
Inever want to stop kissing them, but I know I have to. The car horns beeping behind me, the indistinct chatter of other travellers and the whirring of their suitcases around us are all reminders that we are on borrowed time. I have a plane to catch. I have to say goodbye to Loncey.
I pull back, feeling like I’m dragging my body that short, short distance through treacle.
“I should go,” I tell them.
“I know, but one more thing,” they say and their hands at my waist hold me firmly. “I got you an upgrade.”
“A what?”
