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“I…uh…need to talk to you about what you said the other day, in bed. About you not liking yourself.”
“‘K.”
“Vince,” she says reproachfully.
“Sorry,” I grunt. “I mean ‘yes, let’s discuss that’.”
Her creamy skin warms under my touch. I cover one nipple with my mouth and tease it with my tongue before popping it out and blowing on the wet spot.
“I…ah…uhm…Vince…oh jeez…”
My eyes connect with hers and she’s starting to get that glazed look. Her cheeks are pink. She’s biting her lip, trying not to moan. I repeat the move with the other nipple and I think I hear a squeak.
“I’m concerned about what you said. Why don’t you like yourself?” She is a tenacious thing.
The sooner I answer her truthfully, the sooner I can get this sweater off of her.
I rest my face between her breasts and run my hand between the sweater and her skin. She finally mutters about being uncomfortable and removes it all on her own.
I look down at her, and I can hardly believe she’s mine. This glowing peaches-and-cream skin is mine to touch. I’m blown away by the fact that she wants me as much as I want her, that she cares so much about me that she needs to talk about my issues with myself.
“Babe,” I say, cupping her breast and caressing her skin with my beard. “I’m not exactly a prize. I have no job. I have a bad temper. I don’t have money to afford to rent space for my PI business. The only friends I have are Barry and Shelley and now you.”
“And Max. Don’t forget Max. You are the best friend that kid has possibly ever had. That makes you an awesome friend. You’re his hero.”
I sigh into the side of her tit, gently squeezing. Her breasts give me so much joy and one day, maybe, they will feed a little one of our own. “I’m not a hero.”
She weaves her fingers into my hair and plays with it. I love the feeling of her fingers scraping against my scalp. “Well, suck it up, buster, because he worships you. Did he tell you that during art class we all drew our favorite superheroes and he drew you?”
This news knocks me on my ass.
“Shit,” I whisper, suddenly barely able to make sounds.
Jewel continues, “As far as he’s concerned, right or wrong, you rescued him
from a shitty situation and that is imprinted on his five-year-old brain. That’s going to go with him for the rest of his life, so try to see yourself through his eyes. And through my eyes… the eyes of love. You’re allowed to love yourself. It’s OK. In fact, it’s more than OK—it’s necessary in the whole order of things. You can’t love me until you love yourself.”
I don’t reply. I couldn’t if I wanted to. My throat’s blocked by something.
“Vince?”
I simply shake my head, and then something else happens. My neck and shoulders start to shake, and then my whole body. I’m not sure what’s happening. Something is bubbling up to the surface and I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel good. But it feels necessary.
“Oh, Vince, baby. It’s OK.”
Her arms circle around me.
“Let it out,” she murmurs into my hair. My eyes squeeze shut.
Fuck this shit.
Fuck everyone and everything.
People suck.
I don’t know how to speak. I don’t know how to behave. I don’t know how to fix myself. All I know how to do is be here and let Jewel comfort me, let her nourish me with her body. Her body and her sweet, pure soul.
And maybe, by the time I fall asleep, I allow myself to admit that I deserve her.
