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And I think that this might be what heaven feels like as she goes down on me.
***
The time for me to leave is arriving far quicker than I’d like. Talia and I spent most of the morning in bed devouring each other, touching each other, making each other come, and it only makes it that much harder to leave.
But Kieran and Nyla will be here soon to say goodbye. To drive me to prison.
I lived with the worry that my past would catch up to me in this new life I’d built, but I never imagined it happening because I’d turnedmyselfin for a woman.
But I’m more devoted to Talia now than I ever was to my old life.
Talia and I sit silently on the couch in each other’s arms as I stroke her hair, savoring every last moment before touch will no longer be possible. A knock on the door sounds, marking Kieran’s arrival.
Reluctantly, I get up from my spot on the couch, but Talia follows close behind. When I open the door, I find Nyla already in tears and Kieran looking solemn.
“Alright, none of that,” I tell them as Nyla pushes through the doorway to hug me. She practically squeezes the breath out of me. “Okay, Nyla, you gotta let me go. I’m not dying or anything. Just going to prison.”
She pulls away, sniffling. “Same difference.”
I roll my eyes. Kieran withholds a hug for now, but I feel like it’s imminent, especially from the look on his face. “Ready to go?”
“Yep,” I say, even though I’m not. I turn to Talia, who lingers silently in the back. “Are you riding with us?”
“Of course, I am,” she says in a hard tone, walking past me toward the doorway. I know she’s putting up her hard exterior because Nyla and Kieran are here, but underneath it, I know she’s feeling exactly what I am.
Longing. Despair. Whatever youcanfeel as your boyfriend goes off to prison.
Is that what I am?I ask myself.Feels like much more than that.
We all pile into Kieran’s car, Talia and I in the backseat, our hands joined between us. The ride remains silent. My head is spinning, and I’m trying not to spiral, or think about what I’m doing, only reminding myself that it’s for her. It’s all for her.
There’s a part of me that fears she won’t wait for me, that she’ll find someone far better who isn’t going to be an ex-convict. Who wants to date a man in prison? Talia doesn’t strike me as the type, but she also doesn’t strike me as the type to not be committed to her devotion.
I just hope her devotion to me is strong enough to last two years.
We pull up to the parking lot of the prison where I’ll be going to turn myself in, to be entered in the system, to have a record forever. Gia assures me she won’t let this affect my work at Midnights, and that she’ll keep my project with the vendors running for as long as is needed until I can return. She also told me that if anyone says anything about me being an ex-con, she’ll drive her stiletto heel into their toes because I’m too much of a hard worker to be diminished for my past choices.
Everything will be fine, save for leaving Talia.
I get out of the car, wanting to get this over with, at the same time as not wanting to leave her.
Kieran rounds the car and stands before me. He places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you. I just want you to know that. And you have a place in my life and in the family business when you’re out.”
“I appreciate that.” We embrace each other as brothers do, clapping each other on the back to not show the true affection that’s grown between us.
Nyla pummels me again like a linebacker. At least I’m sturdy enough that she doesn’t knock me over, but that doesn’t stop her from knocking the breath out of me this time. I have to pry her off of me, but I hold her at arm’s length, hands gripping her shoulders. I lean down enough to meet her eyes. “You know I’m going to miss my favorite sister-in-law. Keep him in check while I’m away.”
She laughs through the tears spilling down her cheeks. I embrace her one more time.
Last is Talia, who leans against the back of the car, arms crossed. She’s the picture of indifference, but I can see in her eyes what she’s really feeling. It’s the same as me. A feeling that can hardly be put into one word to encompass the longing that we both feel.
I trace her cheekbones with my fingers, sliding them into her hair. “I’m going to miss you the most.”
She leans into my touch, closing her eyes for a moment. Her hands grip my waist as I lean down for what I fear could be our last kiss, and I treat it accordingly, our lips dancing together in a flurry of desperation and love and longing that make it impossible to pull away. She does first and looks down at the ground.
That won’t do.
I grip her chin gently, tipping it up as I kiss away the tears, then kiss her lips, the salt still on my tongue. “Don’t forget about me.”
