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It makes me feel ill.
I’ve been thinking more and more what matters most for someone: honesty, cohesion? Or love? There shouldn’t be a choice between the two, but if there was? Then what?
What can I do for Gwenna? What can I give her? Everything I can, and my whole heart. Is that enough?
I get to her house before she does, and I’m so restless, I change clothes and jog up to the rock. I check her on my phone when I get to the enclosure gate. Still at the fucking hair salon. I run back up the hill again, so by the time she rolls into the garage, freshly styled and looking like a miracle, I’m dripping sweat.
So what does my sweet girl do? She takes my hand, kisses my sweaty jaw, and leads me in the laundry room, where she strips my wet clothes off and grabs me by the dick. We fuck on a blanket by the couch, Gwen riding me. She looks like an angel with her coppery hair swinging around her shoulders, bouncing off her creamy breasts.
I blow as she clenches my dick with her own orgasm, so hard I feel like I’m coming apart. I’m still hazy when she returns from wherever she went with a wet cloth. She kisses my lips before she drapes it over my face.
“Thanks,” I manage.
I feel weird, so reflexively, I hope she goes. That’s what I do—I realize more and more. When I have a problem, my instinct—my instinct as a former Operator—is to hide it. Hide me.
So I’m surprised how good I feel when Gwenna tucks the blanket over me and snuggles up beside me. She kisses my temple… My cheek. Her gentle fingers stroke my hair.
“I saw you awake the last two mornings.”
I cut my bleary eyes at her, and find hers warm and understanding.
I roll on my side, hesitant about bringing my sweaty self closer to her. But Gwen wraps an arm around me.
“If you want to talk, you know I’m here. And if you don’t, just fall asleep. I thought of doing stir-fry burgers, you know, with onions and green peppers and some sauce? I’ll wake you up soon—or the smell will.”
My eyes squeeze shut as my throat tightens. A tear slips out. I rest my forehead against her throat and swallow.
“Why do you love me?”
I didn’t mean to ask. The words just tumbled out.
Her hand, stroking my back, goes still, then starts to make a slow, firm circle. I feel her soft laugh as it moves inside her throat. “Why don’t I, Bear? I can’t even think of one thing.” I feel her lips move over my hair. “If I really love you, I love everything, yeah? Good and less good. Whole burrito.” She laughs softly, tucking the blanket more tightly around me. “So there is no ‘why.’ There’s ‘why not’, and there’s no reason why not. You know what else?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I’m not flip-floppy. I don’t change my mind once it’s made up. When I like someone, I like them. My college beau? I always kind of knew he was a prick, but he was comfortable, I think. Jamie? Liked her from the second I met her. Nic, her boyfriend? Never have. Don’t even know why. You?” She strokes my hair. “Love at first kick. And you know what else?”
“What else?”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. It sounds kind of weird, but hear me out.” When I don’t speak, she goes on, “You might say you don’t deserve it—and you don’t—‘deserve’ it. Love is, by its definition, impossible to earn. It’s an abundance. It’s extravagant. Did Bill Gates ‘earn’ a gazillion dollars? That much money can’t be ‘earned.’ He hit the jackpot for a thousand different reasons. Worthy or not. Love is like that, I think. It can’t be deserved. It’s given. It’s a gift. And I’m giving it to you. You wanna try to give it back?”
I lay there, breathing. I kiss her throat. “You’re incredible, Piglet.” I would never think to say that in the way that she did, but I feel it just the same. I wish I could convey it.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had. The best thing in my life.”
“I’ll take it,” she says. “Because I want it.”
She wants me. For just a moment, I savor it.
TWENTY
Gwenna
December 30, 2015
We fly out of Nashville just a little shy of 5 p.m., on a nonstop flight to Denver International Airport. Barrett booked our tickets and surprises me with first class. I get strangely teary as we sink into our roomy, leather seats. Jamie and Nic spent Christmas in Breckenridge with her family. It’s the earliest she’s ever headed out to Colorado, and the first time she made the holiday trek without me. That Barrett booked us in first class—gives me all the feels. He doesn’t notice, I don’t think. In fact, in his fluffy new olive green down jacket—hip-length, with a sweatshirt type hood, ragged jeans, and sneakers, he looks slightly sleepy.
He’s been keeping close to me all day. He had his arms around my waist in line to board, which is sort of unusual for him. He’s never minded a little PDA, but he seemed downright handsy. Which I happen to love, but which makes me wonder what’s up with him.
