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Papa and Dad
“The question is, do I want to tell them that I write those books?”
A pair of violet lights stare at me as I finish retelling my day—my week. Tonight is the first night when we can relax as I’m staying for the weekend and not just a few hours. It’s been hard to synchronize our schedules. Thea refuses to fly to California, where I’ve been working almost nonstop. Flying for a few hours to check on the record company and my girlfriend is a killer, but until I can rearrange my schedule, that’s how life has to roll.
“What do you think?” I ask, sweeping some curls off Thea’s face.
“That you sell yourself too short.” Her delicate hand caresses my cheek. “And maybe you should tell your parents who J. M. Hurst is. They’d be proud of you.”
“Maybe soon. I have to think about relocating the production company, maybe to Vancouver.” She bites her lips, and her eyes don’t tell me much of what she’s thinking. “It’s closer. We might see each other more often. How’s the new online store?”
“The webpage is starting to get traffic,” she says, cuddling closer to me. “Owl Originals doesn’t work as well as Butterfly Creations, but it’ll have to do.”
“Sounds like soon you’ll be back in business. What’s up with your new family?”
“We’re still getting to know each other, but it isn’t as awkward as being in bed with your boyfriend and having a stuffy conversation as if he’s a stranger.” She licks my jaw. “I miss you, Mattie.”
I knew staying overnight was a bad idea, but I really needed her tonight. Talking—talking is what I don’t need, but I can humor her. “You can’t miss me. I’m here.” I tease her skin with my fingers. “Shall I remind you how good it is to have me here?”
“No, you’re not, Mattie.” She pushes my hands away. “You’re halfway here.”
Fuck no, I swear under my breath. She’s going to do her thing and psychoanalyze us.
“We have to talk about it,” she insists, propping herself up against the headboard, letting the sheets fall, revealing her beautiful naked torso. Who wants to talk when her perky tits are begging to be sucked? Not me. “I’ve respected your‘not now, Thea, I don’t want to talk’shit,but it’s affecting us. Avoiding me won’t make it better. Swinging by to have sex and leaving because you’re busy is getting old.”
I reach for her right breast, and she slaps away my hand.
“Tristan wasn’t just some dude we met and fucked. No. He is ours—”
“Was,” I correct her.
She glares at me.
“What? If you want to be accurate, let’s be accurate. Tristan was the guy we fell in love with and who stayed as long as it was convenientfor him. When things got nasty, he packed his shit and left. He was never ours.”
Her body remains straight, but her eyes fill with hurt, hurt that’s pounding through my chest. Fuck.
“Matt, we are barely holding it together.” Her lip quivers. “We can’t just try to move on without acknowledging the loss of Tristan.”
Those enigmatic eyes close for a couple of breaths.
“Let’s be honest with each other. We need to face this and deal with it.” She drops her gaze. Her fingers fidget with the sheets, and my heart thunders in fear. “Look, I get it. It hurts to lose someone who actually meant something—everything—to you. We both lost him. We both hurt. I love him too. I used to daydream about us—our life. Making plans, wondering what the days, weeks, and years ahead would bring for the three of us. Today…”
Her eyes lift. They’re watery. “We can’t continue like this, Matt. I just can’t be with you without him. It just doesn’t feel right. Something’s missing…”
ChapterForty-Six
Thea
“What are you insinuating, Agatha?”he yells, leaving the bed. “I fucking love you. He already ripped part of my heart out. Are you planning on shattering the other part? Butterfly, don’t fucking do this to me.”
