Juan Pablo’s face softened at that and he lifted his glass to Tom before taking another sip of his Zacapa.
All he needed.
My heart.
chapter twenty-two
camilo
How was this my life? It was the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving and I was in Tom’s bed still panting from what had been the most epic morning sex of my life and waiting for him to bring me breakfast.
After Thanksgiving I’d just…stayed. We’d spent Friday eating leftovers, watching movies, talking, and making love. We’d ventured out in the afternoon and gone down to Central Park for a walk, but mostly we’d been content in our cocoon. I felt so utterly and completely happy, it scared me.
I sat there wondering when the other shoe would drop, because I knew it was a matter of time before one of us fucked up somehow. Nothing could be this perfect. I didn’t want to be pessimistic or dramatic, but I had enough of a frame of reference to know this wouldn’t last. And it was terrifying, because I knew losing Tom would hurt more than anything had before.
I tried to shake my negative thoughts off and enjoy the fact I was in this incredibly huge and comfortable bed, freshly fucked, and waiting for my millionaire boyfriend to bring me coffee, but the anxiousness still crept in.
I was still fretting when Tom walked in with a tray laden with coffee mugs and toast, like the embodiment of fucking perfection. I started to get up so I could help, but he shook his head.
“No, corazón, don’t get up.” He was calling me his heart now. Low-key like, he was calling mehis heart. I wasn’t going to make a thing out of it and swoon or anything, but I almost wanted to take out my phone and record him.
I obediently stayed in bed as he handed me a cup of steaming coffee. I took a sip then groaned because it was delicious. “Is there anything you don’t do perfectly?”
He grimaced as he grabbed his own cup. “Too many to name.”
He got in bed and reached over for the plate full of buttered toast he’d brought up. I took a piece and shook my head before taking a bite.
“I don’t believe it, give me one example.”
“Well since we’ve already had our first fight, I know you’re very aware of some of my shortcomings.” I nodded once, conceding him the point, but didn’t interrupt. “I also don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships. Iamdivorced.”
I picked at my toast as I answered him. “Neither do I. My relationships tend to have very disappointing endings.”
He stared at me in genuine disbelief. “I can’t imagine you disappointing anyone.”
I wasn’t going to swoon.
“You’re just riding the high from the blow job I just gave you.” I went for levity, because I knew we were about to get deep, and I had to pace myself on this before I confessed every single one of my many,manyfeelings for him. “I mean I know I have mad skills, but I’m notthatgood.”
His response was a gentle bite on my shoulder. When he was done, he licked the spot where his teeth had been. I shivered so hard I had to hold out my coffee so I didn’t spill it. We just sat there in silence, waiting for the heat of the last few seconds to diffuse.
Tom eventually broke the silence. “I beg to differ. But what I mean is you’re so honest and real, Camilo.” He turned so we were facing each other, and I almost wanted to hide from the awe in his voice. “You don’t hide what you feel or say something you don’t mean. You’re so open. When I’m with you, I feel known. Like you seeallof me.” He shook his head like he was getting his thoughts in order, while I drank my coffee worried I was nowhere ready for where this conversation seemed to be going.
“I don’t mean Maxwell didn’t know me; he did. In some ways.” He pushed a knee against his chest as he talked, his eyes full of whatever he was remembering. “Maxwell’s parents are wealthy. Even though they’re great people, their perception of the world is still filtered through all of that.” His face got serious, obviously still struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I look like them,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “I walked in and I was this person who belonged to their world. But I didn’t, not really, and instead of saying that, of letting them know who I was, I just went with it. For them I was just Tom Hughes—no Gomez.” He pursed his lips and I could feel the frustration coming off him. “I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well.”
I took our coffee mugs and put them on the table by the bed, then moved so I was sitting up and he had his back against me. He was so big, his torso covered me completely and it felt perfect.
I ran my hands over his chest as I spoke. “I get what you’re saying. They only knew the part of you they could see.”
He dipped his head to kiss my hand. “I think that’s part of the reason I pulled away from Maxwell in the end. I lost myself in those years. I was so immersed in the business, and so much of that world required I be this guy. It was exhausting and when I came home, the mask had to stay on for Maxwell, too. That’swhy the ease I feel with you means so much. You make me want to stop compromising and justbe.”
I turned his face so I could kiss him and thought of all the ways in which I’d tried so hard to be someone else in my relationships. In college, the guys would tease me and say I did this “oasis” thing whenever I was into a guy; let him only see the parts that I thought would go over well, and then hid everything else. I tried to refrain from ever making waves. Never giving my opinion to the person I was dating to avoid conflict, to the point where I was almost an inanimate object. It was horrible and I ended up hating myself and everyone I dated the entire four years.
“That’s the funny thing with you, Tom. You’re the first guy I’ve ever really beenmewith. I always try to smooth my edges, not be so intense all the time.” I grimaced, thinking of some of those relationships and how hard I tried to please people who weren’t worth it. “I had a guy tell me once, I would be the perfect boyfriend if I kept my answers to just yes or no.”
Tom just shook his head then muttered, “Asshole.”
I chuckled, kissing the top of his head. “Thanks. But to be fair, I am too much sometimes, too opinionated. I get worked up and angry about things I feel are unfair, and I need to be okay with not everyone being the same level of outraged as me all the time. It’s not fair to expect that.”
