by C P Harris
This time, the redness gathered in my cheeks for a different reason. “I’m onto you and your pleases. You’re not even using the word properly. And it doesn’t make a difference if you don’t mean it anyway!” I’d thrown the sheets off and gotten in his face.
Rearing back as if I’d struck him, he said petulantly, “That’s not what Julie says.”
I gaped at him, slack jawed and then couldn’t help the laugh that exploded out of me at his sheer ridiculousness. I tackled him to the floor, planting kisses all over his face. “Damon, you can’t use ‘please’ as a way to manipulate me into doing what you want.”
“It’s been working so far,” he said, baffled by my statement.
“You are such a child,” I said. “Are you really that threatened by Max? You know I don’t want him, Damon.” But he thought Max wanted me. “Besides, I think Ash might be interested.”
“He’d better keep his grubby hands off my friend,” he snapped.
Like I said, such a child.
Chapter Nineteen
I devoted my days to working with the kids and my evenings to getting through the rest of the book. Blake sent me a text a few days ago letting me know he’d finished. And again this morning, asking if I was done yet. I sensed his exhilaration and eagerness for me to complete it, so I committed to not moving from my spot until I had.
A few hours later, I snapped the book shut and looked at the time. Four hours until Sam’s art exhibit. More than enough time for me to get ready and make a pit stop. I dashed to the bathroom but returned to snag my phone to make an important call.
“Why, hello, Mr. Daniels, wasn’t sure if I’d see you again,” Sarah said, smiling from her seat behind the reception desk in Julie’s waiting room.
“Hey, Sarah. It’s been awhile.” I tapped on the counter, biting my lip while staring at Julie’s closed office door.
“Well, she’s waiting for you. She’s got twenty minutes until her next appointment. Go on in.”
“Thanks.” I reached for the door handle, stopped to wipe my sweaty palms on my cargo skinnies, and then reached again. I’d dodged her calls and ignored her emails. She must be disappointed in me, I thought. Man up, Justin.
Julie peered over the rim of her glasses, giving me a warmhearted smile. It said welcome home; you were missed. She set down the paperwork she’d been regarding and rounded her desk to embrace me with open arms. “Justin, it’s good to see you,” she said.
I closed my eyes and rested my chin atop her head. The hug ended, and all too soon.
“Come, have a seat and tell me what brings you here today.”
Dropping the book on the table between us, I opened it to the very last page and pointed to the last sentence, reading out loud, “Today, I am happy to say that most of my alters have been integrated, and I’m able to live a happy and content life. None of this would be possible without the love, strength, and devotion of my wife, Dr. Julie Hayes.”
She smiled at me, and with tears brimming, I said, “You get it. You truly get it, don’t you?”
“If you are asking if I see you, Justin, the answer is yes. I’ve always seen you; I’ve always understood.” Taking hold of my hands and speaking with heavy emotion, she asked, “Are they worth it?”
“Yes. They are.” Without hesitation.
“Then don’t give up because they haven’t,” she said.
We talked for a while about her husband Phillip, who Julie described as kind and gentle.
“We went through many therapists, and nothing was working. They all wanted to medicate him. Some wanted to lock him away. I hated their approach, their indifference. I decided to change majors and worked hard to learn all I needed to in order to save my husband.”
“And the baby?” I asked carefully. She’d miscarried after an altercation with one of Phillip’s alters.
“You know, losing the baby isn’t the part that nearly destroyed me. The guilt for being happy that I had the choice taken away from me is what caused my distress. I didn’t want to bring a baby into that environment. I would never forgive myself if it became collateral damage. I was happy. That happiness caused my heartache.”
“He’s down to two alters now.”
“Yes. Syn and Phillip Junior. His five-year-old self. They don’t seem to want to leave, and we’re okay with that.”
“Thank you.”
Her courage inspired my own. I left her office with a plan and a mission. First, I needed to be there for Sam. But after, I would be there for myself and for them.
I drove straight to the condo in Kisla after Sam’s show, filled with a nervous energy. I planned to stay, to fight, but I also planned to leave. In a sense. Damon would surely think so.
Letting myself in, I called Damon and then Blake’s name and got no answer. I removed my wet shoes at the door and made my way into the living room, feeling uncomfortable about being there.
No, uncomfortable wasn’t the right word. More like uncertain. I was welcomed, I knew, but the place didn’t feel like ours anymore. I labeled myself an intruder.
Letting down my hair and groaning as the tension slipped away, I sauntered over to the window. Stretching out the kinks in my neck, I closed my eyes and allowed the sound of rain striking glass to put me at ease.
I considered what Damon said about me needing Blake, and I admitted to myself that he might’ve been right. I craved Blake’s peace, his softness, his care. I’d been hiding how fragile I was lately because with Damon I had to be made of sterner stuff. But I thirsted to go pliant, if only for a little while.
Resting my forehead against the glass, I shivered at the thought of Blake’s hands running through my hair serenely, of him kissing me everywhere as he removed my clothing one piece at a time. “I miss you,” I said into the space around me.
“I miss you too.”
Startled, I turned to see Blake standing in the foyer, setting his briefcase down. Buttoned up as usual. I tore my gaze away before I lost composure and fell at his feet. I blinked in quick succession to rid my eyes of that drowning sensation.
“You found your way back to me.” A hint of hope in his voice.
It brought me no joy to crush the note of happiness in his tone, but I needed to get something out of the way before we went any further. I faced him head on. “I want a divorce.” Belatedly, I thought to ask, “Can Damon hear us?”
“No,” he said.
I didn’t bother asking how that could be. I had enough to deal with at the moment. “Good. You’re the reasonable one,” I said, with a halfhearted smirk.
Blake moved into the living room, stopping in front of me. He ran that hand I’d been longing for through my hair. Massaging my scalp. I sunk into the touch. Losing the battle to remain poised. I needed him too much. “You’re not upset with me?”
“No. If you want a divorce, I’m sure you have your reasons.”
Backing away in anger, thinking he didn’t even care, I tried to camouflage my hurt feelings with a blank expression.
Taking hold of my chin, he urged me to hold his stare. “I don’t say this in indifference, my love. You’re the most important thing to me. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t think that’s what you’re saying. Talk to me. Please?”
Resting my palms on his chest, I leaned into him. “I’m ready to put the ugliness of the past behind us. I’m here to fight, Blake, to forgive what I once thought unforgivable. I miss you so much. And I need you,” I choked out. “But we need to start fresh, a clean slate. I married Damon for the wrong reasons. Out of jealousy, his and mine, after we fought each other because of insecurities involving other people. I married him because I wanted to own him, just as much as he wanted to own me. I want a choice now. If it’s going to happen, it needs to be for the right reasons. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I do.”
He tilted my head back, viewing me and wordlessly asking permission. I gave it. The kiss was searching and patient and it ended before we really got started.
<
br /> “Come, let me take care of you,” he said.
Leading me into the master bath, Blake turned on the faucet to fill the tub with steaming water. He removed my clothing deliberately, kissing me as he went along like I imagined he would.
He bathed me and washed my hair, humming soothingly to me the whole time.
“Get in,” I said, grabbing his wrist. I loved that he didn’t waste time asking trivial questions like “Are you sure?” He stripped off everything and sank in, pulling me around so that my back was to his front. We lounged in companionable silence, idly touching each other, reacquainting ourselves. After a time, I reached back to feel him, and my cock twitched, sending a ripple through the water. I don’t care what anyone says—size matters.
Taking the hint, he stood, pulling me with him, and we made our way to the bedroom dripping wet.
Leaning against the headboard, I patiently waited while he lit candles. The rain and thunder were a perfect complement to the intimate moment.
Stroking his slicked cock leisurely, Blake crawled to the middle of the bed, wrapped his hands around my ankles, and tugged me until I lay flat on my back. Folding me in half, he pushed into me with such compassion my cock wept. Licking and biting my nipples, he placed my hands above my head, entwining our fingers.
Mewling into his mouth as he gave me all of him, my emptiness replaced by something spiritual.
“God, I love you.” He gazed down at me like I enabled his heart to beat.
“And I love you. More than anything, Blake.” Flipping him over, I massaged anything I could reach on him, riding him slow but hard. His hands roamed up and down my spine with a silent desperation. He sucked at my hardened nipples, then my neglected lips, using my hair as a veil to hide us from the world. With my arms wrapped tightly around him, my cock trapped between us rubbing at his rigid belly, we made love way into the night. Never leaving each other’s arms. Not even when it was over.
I’d accompanied Blake to his appointment with Julie the next day. She knew about my plans to ask for a divorce, and she’d agreed that, if possible, Damon should be informed in session. That was two weeks ago. Damon took the news poorly, and I hadn’t seen him since.
He didn’t understand my reasoning, and frankly, I was beginning to doubt the idea as well. What am I doing? With everything already in turmoil, did I really need to add another log to the fire? I tried unsuccessfully to get him to see that I wasn’t abandoning him. I just wanted to love him without restraints. To stay by choice. I wanted to experience owning myself. To eventually say ‘I do’ from a place of freedom and love. Not from fear and a need to shackle and be shackled.
In the middle of teaching a class, I was consumed by these thoughts to the point of distraction. I put it out of my mind in order to give the kids all of me.
“And one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three… aaannnddd cut.”
“I did it. I did it! I really did it this time, Mr. Justin.”
I joined in on Debbie’s jubilation at nailing the triple pirouette. It wasn’t perfect, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. “Yes, you did, sweetie.” I’d been staying late after our scheduled classes to help some of the kids one on one that were struggling. Today was Debbie’s turn.
I spotted Pete standing outside the door watching. “Hey Deb, looks like your brother’s waiting for you. Why don’t you go get changed so you can head home?”
“Okay, fine.” She sauntered off, looking extremely put-out.
“She’d stay here and dance all day if we let her,” I said. Pete didn’t respond.
“You did great today. You’re one of my strongest dancers. How long have you been dancing?” Crickets.
“It’s almost time to pick the leads for the fundraiser show. Would you be interested? For this, I’d have to hold auditions. I don’t want anyone to think I have favorites. However, I’m confident that you’ll surpass my expectations.” That seemed to ignite a spark in his hazel eyes.
“You are?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Definitely. Why would that surprise you?” I asked. He came into the room, and I remained seated on the mats, going through my stretches as if I didn’t notice.
“Well, um, I guess because no one thinks I’m great at anything. Except making their lives complicated.” Pete shrugged one shoulder, looking anywhere but at me. “Four.”
Finally, glancing my way and seeing my confusion, he clarified. “I’ve been dancing since I was four.”
“That explains why you’re so good.”
“A bunch of kids here have been dancing since they were little.” This time, he gave a two-shoulder shrug and became fascinated with the wall. “It’s no big deal,” he said.
“Some people dance because they were forced to, some because they find it fun. Others may even dance because there’s nothing else to do, so why not? But not everyone was born to dance, Pete. Not like you.”
His cheeks brightened, and he ducked his head to hide his smile. I wondered, and not for the first time, who worked so hard to dim Pete’s light?
Shouting in her singsong-y way, Debbie entered the room. “I’m readyyyy, Ni—.”
“It’s Pete,” he said, sharply.
I couldn’t see his face any longer, but the red creeping up the back of his neck exposed his embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I forget sometimes,” she said, chastised, head bowed. Then, squaring her shoulders and placing her tiny fists on her hips. “I’m just a little girl, you know.” Her bottom lip jutted out.
Pete’s shoulders relaxed after a second of being faced with her anger. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He ruffled her hair. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
“Bye, Mr. Justin.” She waved before slipping her hand into Pete’s.
Alone, I fell back on the mat and sprawled out my limbs, giving free rein for the sadness to take over me.
A car already sat in the driveway of the Chadwick house when I arrived there from the center, so I parked on the curb and hopped out, jogging up the porch steps to get inside. The door was unlocked. With hesitant steps, I entered the house, closing the door behind me.
“In here,” a deep voice called from down the hall.
A man sat at the head of the dinning table. From the way he pored through the papers in front of him, I guessed it was Blake. The divorce papers.
“Already?” I asked, moving into the room.
“Already,” he confirmed, standing to welcome me into his arms.
“Mmmm, I’ve missed you.” I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“You saw me this morning,” he laughed.
“Doesn’t matter.” Sitting down, I perused through the documents and nearly fell out of my seat as I read through the section on the splitting of assets. “Half of your company? And half of all profits made in the future? And—does that say alimony?” I should’ve known. My belief in Blake being a reasonable man blinded me from seeing that he’d never allow me to walk away with what I came into the marriage with. Nothing.
“Blake, this isn’t starting from scratch. I don’t want any of this. It’s all yours. You have to see that this would make me feel tied to you out of more than just love. I don’t want to be indebted to you.” My eyes bulged when I turned the page. He was also splitting his cash assets down the middle with me. “Is this how much you’re worth?”
“What can I say? Business was good this year. And don’t look at this as mine—it’s ours. I wouldn’t have all this without you.”
“What about Damon? Shouldn’t he have a say in a decision this big?”
“With all due respect, I built the company from the ground up after Damon left.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, but this is wrong. He deserves a say.” Leaning back in my seat, I took a real hard look at him. He squirmed under the scrutiny.
I know this man. Blake had to be aware that I wouldn’t sign these papers. “Where’s the real document, Blake?”
After a short standoff, he with
drew something from the inside breast pocket of his suit and slid it over to me.
“You set the stage with the most outrageous divorce settlement you could think of so that this one,” I said, waving the new bundle of papers, “will seem like nothing in comparison, and I’ll sign it, huh?”
“The first one is the better option, in my opinion, and more than warranted. I hoped you would agree. But, yes, I had a feeling you wouldn’t, so I had another option drafted. My intention was never to make you feel manipulated.”
I shot to my feet, and the chair legs screeched against the wood floor. “This is enough company stock for me to orchestrate a takeover if I so pleased, Blake!”
“Justin, please, meet me halfway here. I can’t leave you with nothing. It’s not in me to do so. It’s stock. That’s all it is. No money is exchanging hands, and you never have to think about it if you don’t want to.”
I took my time retaking my seat. Grabbing the pen off the table, I flipped to the last page, and after a few seconds of deliberation, I signed my name. Blake did as well.
An intense swell of grief threatened to crush me, and he drew me against him. Something had died. Our something. Trying to control the shaking in my hands, I fisted the back of his jacket and asked, “What now?”
“Whatever you want, Justin.”
“My name.” It hit me that I might not be a Daniels anymore. “Who am I now?”
“Who you’ve always been. Only more.”
“I like the sound of that.” I gave a shaky smile.
We spent the rest of the night stretched out on the couch talking, wrapped in each other's arms. I was a creature of touch. Whether soft or hard depended on the day, sometimes the hour. I desired intimacy and connection, and being draped across Blake’s broad chest while he petted my body and my hair was pure nirvana.
“Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
“I have to be down at the center for a few hours, but class starts early on the weekends. I’m free after twelve.”