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“Hi, Joar.” I make sure to look him in the eye when I open the door. Use his full name deliberately.
“What. The. Fuck?“ He steps inside and slams the door behind him. “Why would you leave like that?”
I have no excuse. Nothing to say. All of my reasons—excuses—seem petty and immature right now. Because they are.
“Words, Clover. Please use them.” He stands before me, palms extended.
“I panicked. I’m sorry I worried you. Or pissed you off.” I pinch my nose with my fingers. “I needed some space and now I’ve made everything weird. Would you like to come in and have some tea with me? I owe you an adult conversation.”
His anger dissipates slightly. “If something had happened to you, sweetness…” His voice hitches.
“Physically I’m fine. Mentally, not so much. Come with me.” I hold out my hand.
He hesitates but places his hand in mine. I lead him through the foyer into my reading oasis. Pour him a cup of tea and gesture for him to take the chair opposite mine. He looks around the room, confused. Awed. “Wow, this is something.”
“It’s my sanctuary. I come here to get lost in my books. For years, I hid them from Harrison. Now, I’m embracing the things I love.” I gesture around the room.
He stands and looks around. Pulls out a book. Studies it. Puts it back. Repeats. “Are these all romance books?”
“Yes.” I sip my tea and watch him.
He sees the book on my chair. “What are you reading now?”
“It’s reverse harem.” I hold it up. “Three men. One woman.”
His face says it all. He’s shocked senseless. “Is that your fantasy?”
“Yes. Yes it is,” I say with a straight face.
His eyes hold mine, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s like he’s searching for what to say.
“Good thing my lover has a cock so big it’s like having three at once.” I smile sweetly, exaggerating just a little.
Joar shakes his head. “Clover.”
“I’m sorry. Really.” I tilt my head. “I got in my own head. Felt a little trapped.”
He winces. “Oh.”
I let the silence sit there between us. I’m not compelled to overexplain like I used to when Harrison would get mad about stupid little things. I own my shit. But, I don’t need to apologize for my feelings. Only my actions. “I should have said something. It was disrespectful and immature of me to grab an Uber when you took that business call.”
“I thought we were having a great time. I’ve never, in my adult life, blown off work for nearly five days. I certainly haven’t ever wanted to spend time with someone more than I wanted to work.” He buries his face in his hands, then looks up at me with those probing violet eyes of his. “Did I read this wrong?”
I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. Classic protective stance. “I don’t know.”
“What?” He looks stricken.
“You’re making me feel things, Joar. Things I’m afraid of. I heard you talking about leaving for London and realized that we were living in a fantasy sex bubble.” I press my face into my knees.
He moves from his chair to the edge of mine. “Fantasy sex bubble? What the fuck is that?”
“The thing that happens when you have mind-blowing sex. Probably the best of your life. All you want is to do it again and again and again. Days go by. You don’t see anyone or anything but him. Everything else ceases to exist. You catch feelings that aren’t real because the fantasy sex bubble isn’t reality.” I gesture wildly, trying to make my point.
Joar catches my arms. One by one. Threads his fingers with mine. “The feelings are real, baby. I have them too.”
“But we can’t, Joar.“ I try to pull away, but he holds fast. “You and I won’t work. I’m sorry if I led you on. I just can’t do it. Go down this path again with a man like you. I can’t lose myself. It’s taken too much of my emotional energy to rebuild after the divorce. I won’t survive it.”
He’s confused, that much is clear. “I don’t understand what you’d lose about yourself. Please talk to me.”
