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“Jealousy, maybe?”
“Why would she be jealous?”
“Well, you’re prettier, smarter, more likable than she is, for starters,” Spencer said with a shrug, and Daff smiled at that sweet response.
“I just felt so idiotic,” she said with a deep sigh. “Maybe I was just being a total prude, you know? I know I’m supposed to be this modern woman and it’s okay to enjoy a bit of kinky sex now and then. But I didn’t. I didn’t enjoy it. I just felt demeaned, and maybe I made myself feel that way, but . . .”
“Daff, you’re overthinking it,” he said soothingly. “You don’t like BDSM and there’s nothing wrong with that. Your partners should have asked if you were okay with it instead of assuming that you would be.”
“Jake asked.”
“Jake asked jack shit! The way he presented these questions to you was ambiguous, to say the least. You thought you were agreeing to other things, and he fucking knew it. He tricked you and then made sure to gag you before he did all the things he knew you would have protested to.”
“I must seem so weak and foolish to you now,” she whispered, and he heard the absolute misery and shame in her voice.
“Oh no, my darling.” He lowered his voice to match hers. “Nothing you’ve told me tonight changes how I think of you.”
“But I—”
“No. Daff—” He moved his hand to her face and stroked her damp cheek. It killed him that these memories had made her cry, and he wanted to murder someone because of those tears. But he kept the savage fury he felt leashed, wanting her to feel only tenderness in his touch. “You did nothing wrong. He took advantage of your innocence and confusion. It was an assault.”
“No, I consented to everything.”
“Darling, you didn’t know what you were consenting to.”
“But I didn’t say no.”
“You couldn’t say no. He shoved a gag in your mouth.”
“Afterward, when I knew . . . I still allowed it. I allowed everything else. For three years. What’s wrong with me?”
“Did you love him?” He tried to keep the tension he felt out of his body, dreading her answer. Not knowing what he would do if she admitted to loving an asshole like that, when she wouldn’t even give Spencer a shot at a real relationship with her.
Daff considered his question for a moment. Why had she stayed with Jake for so long?
“I thought maybe I did. But I think I kind of hated him. I just . . . I think I was afraid of being a failure and maybe afraid of being alone. I was so young, and I thought being in a relationship was everything. I didn’t have a degree, I didn’t have what I thought of as a proper job, I was afraid—” She stopped speaking abruptly, the nascent thought almost revolutionary. “All my life I was told I was cute but not very bright, and I should find a man to take care of me. Aside from his sexual proclivities, Jake was every girl’s dream, and I thought he was what I needed.”
“Your fucking aunts,” Spencer muttered, sounding pissed off. “Why would they sabotage your self-worth like that? I thought family’s supposed to lift you up and make you feel special.”
“I think they thought they were complimenting me. Daff’s the cute one, Lia’s the pretty one, and Daisy’s the clever one,” she intoned before snorting in dark amusement. “More like Daff’s the neurotic one, Lia’s the needy one, and Daisy’s the insecure one.”
“I swear to God, if they start carrying on about this crap at the wedding, I’ll—” He paused and she felt him shrug. “I don’t know. Steal their dentures and force them to eat popcorn and apples or something.”
She surprised herself by giggling.
“Badass!” she teased.
“You know it.” She lifted her hand to cup his jaw, and he leaned into her touch.
“Spencer, I think this whole year for me has been about proving that I can take care of myself. That I can live alone, I can quit my job, I don’t need a man, and . . . I don’t know, I can find what really makes me happy.”
“I get it,” he whispered, covering her hand with his own. He turned his head and kissed her palm tenderly.
“So this thing between us . . . I can’t. The timing . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I know.” His voice was a gentle rumble and filled with nothing but understanding. Her tears overflowed, and she tried not to let on that she was crying. But somehow, despite the darkness, he knew.
“Don’t, Daff. Don’t cry. I’m here for you. In whatever capacity you need me.”
“I just don’t want to label this.”
“But this exists?” She could hear the question in his voice and nodded.
“It does. But no boundaries, Spence. No parameters. No labels.”
