Heart Knot Mine

by Lily Velden

  “Maybe with time,” I offered, feeling the need to comfort and encourage her.

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “I certainly hope so.”

  “Miranda, I’m leaving for a while. I’m taking a sabbatical from work. I leave for New York a few days after Christmas.”

  “Oh.” She made no attempt to conceal her surprise.

  “I didn’t want to go away without letting you know, just in case….” I trailed off, taking a moment to collect myself. “Just in case Mitch does change his mind. I’ve written him—and you—a letter, and also one for the boys.”

  I could see she was torn. She silently pleaded with me not to put her in an awkward position with her husband. I rushed to reassure her.

  “Hang on to the letter for you and Mitch for a time when, maybe, you think he might be receptive. And with the Ricky and Jared’s letter, I swear, there is nothing in there you need be concerned about. I would never undermine either you or Mitch. I just wanted to let them know I love and miss them.”

  She released my hand, raising it with her other one to wipe from her cheeks the tears which had begun to fall again. “Okay,” she whispered. “I can do that.”

  “Thank you.” My voice was a croak as I struggled to keep my emotions in hand.

  “I have to get back to the store.” I could hear the note of regret in her voice.

  “I know. I’m sorry I interrupted. I just didn’t know how else to make contact.”

  “Don’t apologize, Noah. I’m glad you did. I’ve been worried about you. I’ve wanted to call or stop by so often.” She looked away from me. “But after my last visit, I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome.” She turned her head to look at me again. “I think it’s me who owes you an apology.”

  I shook my head at her. “No need. We all said and did things that night we ordinarily wouldn’t.”

  She smiled gratefully and stood, easing her arms out of my coat. After passing it to me, she stood on her toes and kissed my cheek. “Stay safe, Noah. I’ll be in contact as soon as I can.”

  As she walked away from me, I donned my coat, closing my eyes as a waft of her perfume curled up my nose. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time I’d smell it.

  SITTING AT my desk, I watched as my PC closed down for the last time. The screen went dark, and still I sat. I leaned back in my chair and glanced around my office—it looked so bare. The bookshelves were almost empty, and I’d removed my prints from the walls. Ghostly outlines of where’d they hung were all that remained. It looked like it had on my first day at SAIC.

  A light tap on my door drew my gaze in its direction. Jon popped his head in, grinning.

  “How does it feel….” He paused, stepped fully into the room, and glanced at his wristwatch. “Yep, it’s official. How does it feel to be a free man?”

  I smiled at his enthusiasm. I might be free from work for the time being, but I’d consider myself a truly free man when I’d finally exorcised Robert from my system.

  “Pretty good.” I nodded. “Yeah, it feels pretty darn good.”

  “Excellent. Calls for a celebration. Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “You only want to feed me so you can take advantage of my muscle power to move more of your stuff!” I said.

  Jon tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, his hands raised and open in question. “Okay, Lord, he’s on to me. What do I do now?”

  I watched, amused, as he nodded and made small sounds of agreement with the deity that apparently resided on the ceiling of my office. He was such a clown.

  Lowering his head, his gaze serious as it met mine, he continued. “I’ll also throw in two beers and a half bottle of wine.”

  I laughed. “Okay, you have a deal.”

  I picked up the box containing the last of my things, and together we made our way to the parking lot. Things couldn’t have worked out more conveniently for both Jon and myself. He’d been renting, and thus far hadn’t found a house or apartment he wanted to buy, so he was going to move into my place. We decided between us that at the end of my sabbatical, we could both make decisions on what we’d do about our respective living arrangements.

  Thankfully, him having rented meant he had little in the way of furniture. He had plenty of books, CDs and movies, and even a saxophone, which surprised me, but little in the way of bigger items. I’d already cleared my closet and moved into the guest room so Jon could move into the master after we’d collected one last haul from his apartment. Our sharing would only be for a couple of nights, though—he was due to fly out on Sunday to spend Christmas and New Year’s down in Florida with his parents, three sisters, their respective husbands, and a veritable flock of nieces and nephews. He’d joked that only the Irish could outbreed the Italians.

  And I, of course, would be leaving for New York while he was away.

  The selfish, and yes, needy, part of me wished he would be in Chicago for Christmas. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the holiday by myself. I had a sense that had I asked he might well have stayed, but Christmas was a time for family, and his parents had retired to Florida.

  I’d just have to put my big-boy jocks on and deal with my first Christmas on my own.

  18

  “NOAH! HEY, long time no see. Where the hell have you been, man?”

  I shrugged, hoping my intoxication wasn’t immediately obvious. I’d spent the earlier part of the evening at 3160, but the festive atmosphere had begun to grate on my nerves. What was everyone so fucking happy about? Looking around, I knew the Redhead wouldn’t be much better, but at least since it was predominantly hetero, I might not get hit on. Having spent the afternoon at the bathhouse, I’d sucked enough dick for one day. And between the reciprocation of my efforts and alcohol, I doubted I could get it up again anyway.

  “Change is as good as a holiday.”

  “Your usual?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Seth.”

  My favorite barstool was occupied by a young blond guy with sculpted hair. It was so stylized, I figured he must have spent at least an hour on it. It looked like he was a great customer of the local tanning salon as well. He was so perfectly coiffed and dressed he didn’t look real. He looked like an airbrushed ad.

  He was gay. Of that I was certain.

  “Did you suck Robert’s cock?” I slurred.

  “Pardon?” Even his voice was perfect.

  “Did you suck Robert’s cock?”

  He laughed softly. “Ah, no, sweetie, I don’t think so, but I’d be more than happy to suck yours.”

  “Nah, mine’s too tired. Maybe later.”

  Mr. Poster Boy for Male Perfection winked at me and laughed again. “Consider it a date, gorgeous.”

  I ambled to the end of the bar, to the one vacant stool.

  “Noah, man, what was that all about?” Seth asked, passing me a tumbler of Booker’s.

  I shrugged. “He’s beautiful, and Robert would have liked his plump lips.”

  “Still pining?”

  “No.” My reply was more forceful than I intended. I took a breath and tried again, repeating my mantra softly. “Robert’s not built for relationships. He doesn’t do love. He did me a favor by letting me know early on.”

  Seth shook his head at me. “Damn straight, man. You don’t need a jerk like him.” He pushed a fresh tumbler of bourbon toward me. “Here. This one’s on me.”

  I SHOVED some bills toward the cabbie and hoped it was enough to cover the fare. Surely he’d say something if it wasn’t? He thanked me and wished me a Merry Christmas, so maybe I’d been generous. Somewhat awkwardly, I clambered out, the fresh snow making a crunching sound under my feet. I paused on the sidewalk, swaying a little as I craned my head forward, squinting and blinking while I tried to peer through the white curtain of falling snow. A large dark shape sat huddled on the top step by my front door.

  I blinked a few times. He was still there.

  I slowly turned my head to look up and down the street and then back up the path to my front doo
r. He was still there.

  I blinked once more. Still there. Real. Definitely real.

  As drunk as I was, I knew it was Robert. I’d have known him anywhere. After four months of praying and wishing for him, he was really here, and I was in no fit state to see him.

  I was so trashed I could hardly place one foot in front of the other, let alone string together a coherent sentence.

  “Noah?” he called softly, standing.

  I lurched forward, his voice like a fishing line, its hook in my heart, reeling me in. But though my heart immediately surrendered to his pull, my drunken feet were unable to obey, and I lurched to the side.

  “Noah!” He sounded alarmed, and even through my inebriated haze I felt a rush of joy at his concern.

  His dark shape hurtled toward me, and I had to turn my head and look away because the flapping of his overcoat made me dizzy. And then he had his arms around me, and for the first time in months, I relaxed. I collapsed in his arms.

  He accepted my weight, pushing the hair from my forehead and out of my eyes with his gloved fingers. I looked up into his beautiful amber-brown eyes and hoped the blurring of my vision and wetness on my cheeks was from the snow and not tears.

  “You’re here,” I slurred, stupidly stating the obvious.

  “Yes, baby, I’m here. Long overdue, but finally here.”

  “You’re here,” I repeated.

  “Yes, sunshine, that’s right, I’m here. Let’s get you inside.”

  He adjusted his position, putting one shoulder under my armpit and his arm around my waist before half dragging, half walking me up the path to the front door.

  “Where’s your keys, Noah?”

  “Pocket.”

  Bracing me against the door frame, he rummaged in my various pockets until he found the one containing my keys. After lifting them up to the light, he quickly separated the right one from the others and inserted it into the lock. The whole time all I could do was stare at him and smile goofily. In my drunken state, I was just so happy to see him. All my pep talks of the previous months were forgotten.

  Half carrying me, he led me to what used to be my bedroom. I wanted to tell him it was now Jon’s room, but I got distracted by the snowflakes melting in his hair. He sat me on the end of my bed before carefully easing himself free of me.

  “Don’t move, sunshine. I’m going to get you some water.”

  “You’re here,” I repeated yet again. I had so much I wanted to say to him, but those two words seemed to be all I could manage to get past my lips.

  He whirled around, and I had to close my eyes as the action made my head spin, which in turn caused my stomach to roil uneasily. I heard rather than saw him stride back and kneel before me. He caressed my cheek with his gloved fingers and upon hearing his dissatisfied sounds, I opened my eyes, watching silently as he removed his gloves before returning his hand to my cheek.

  “Yes, Noah, I’m here. Now, stay still while I get you some water. Okay?”

  “’K.”

  He was back in a matter of moments. At least, I thought it was a matter of moments. Upon his return, he held the glass to my lips, and I took a sip or two, scrunching up my face, the water not going down as well as the bourbon had.

  Robert placed the glass on my bedside table and proceeded to ease me out of my coat before ducking into my bathroom, returning with a towel. I sat like a docile lamb, repeating the only phrase I seemed capable of uttering while he gently dried my snow-wet hair and reassured me that, yes, he was here. After dropping the towel on the floor by my feet, he undressed me layer by layer, until he had a mound of my clothing beside him as he knelt before me. His warm hands on my bare skin felt so good, I shivered and sighed. I’d missed his touch so much.

  I stared at his beautiful face, which looked so serious as he concentrated on stripping me of my briefs. A pained expression passed across his features at the same time as a gasp escaped his lips. I glanced down to my groin, to what he was looking at. There, between the crease of my thigh and the trimmed square of my pubic hair, was a vibrant purplish-red bruise.

  A lovebite.

  A lovebite that hadn’t been made with love. It had been made in lust. Anonymous lust.

  “Bathhouse stranger,” I croaked, and then I crumpled forward and wept. “Wasn’t you. He wasn’t you.”

  “Shh, baby. Shh, it’s okay,” Robert murmured into my hair as he cradled me, but now that the floodgate had opened I was unable to stem the flow.

  “Not ’k,” I whimpered, shaking my head against his cocooning hand, rubbing my forehead against the damp collar of his overcoat. “Had wrong hair. Wrong smell. Wrong cock. Everything wrong, wrong, wrong. All of them… wrong, wrong, wrong.”

  “Shh, baby. We can talk about that later. Right now we need to get some water into you, and you need to sleep this off.”

  He pulled away and smiled gently at me.

  “All of them wrong. Wrong. Wasn’t you,” I blubbered. “Wanted you.”

  “I know, baby. I wanted you too.” He reached past me, grabbed the water, and held it to my lips. “We’ll talk about that later. Try and drink some more water for me.”

  I shook my head, pushing the glass clumsily away, my action causing some of the water to slosh over the side and splash my chin. I ignored it. There was so much I needed to tell him. I needed him to understand.

  “Bathhouse stranger said just need friction. Said just need hot, tight holes. Just need wet—”

  “Baby, we can talk about this later—”

  His words skimmed over me like a faint draft of air. I barely registered them. I was on a mission. A mission to explain.

  “Friction. Just need friction. Just need to come.” I nodded frantically, willing Robert to understand.

  “Shh, baby—”

  “And come and come and come. Just need to come,” I barreled on. “He said we don’t need love. He said love is bullshit.”

  And then I was crying again, because love wasn’t bullshit. I’d sucked so many cocks in the past four months, and had mine sucked more times than I could remember, and it hadn’t made one iota of difference. I still loved Robert. I still wanted Robert.

  “Not bullshit. Tried to fuck you out of my system,” I wailed, clutching the lapels of his coat and shaking him. “Couldn’t do it. Didn’t work. Couldn’t fuck them. Only suck. I sucked and I sucked and I sucked.”

  “Noah, baby…. Noah.” He cupped my face, brushing my tears away with his thumbs. “Noah, I’m so sorry. I—”

  “Didn’t work,” I said, sobbing, letting his hands support the full weight of my head. “Didn’t work. All of them wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Wanted you. Just you.”

  He pulled my face into the crook of his neck and stroked the back of my head. “Baby, it didn’t work for me either. All I’ve been able to think about is you.”

  “Want you,” I mumbled into his collar.

  “Same here. But, Noah, I want to have this conversation when you’re sober. Please drink some water for me.”

  Easing me slightly away, he picked up the abandoned glass from the floor and held it to my lips.

  Dutifully, I sipped from the glass. My stomach immediately rebelled at the extra fluid.

  “Sick. Feel sick.”

  “Bollocks! Okay, hang on. Can you hang on, Noah? For just a sec?”

  I nodded.

  He dashed into my bathroom, and once again I had to turn my face away because the whirling of his coat made the room spin.

  “Come on, baby, let’s get you to the toilet.”

  He gathered me in his arms and hefted me up to my feet, a grunt of effort gusting out of him.

  I nuzzled into his shoulder and inhaled noisily. “Missed you. Missed your smell.”

  “I’ve missed you too, love. Very much.”

  When he’d gotten me as far as the bathroom door, a dash of color on the tiled floor before the toilet caught my eye. He’d folded one of my towels into a neat pad for me to kneel on. That one little kin
dness made me start crying again.

  “Love you,” I snuffled. “Always loved you.”

  “Shh, don’t cry. No need to cry, baby. I love you too, Noah.” And then, surprisingly, he chuckled. “Though this isn’t quite where and how I imagined my declaration of eternal love happening.”

  I couldn’t hold on to his words. My stomach, unfortunately, decided then was the best time to rid itself of my excesses. I fell to my knees in front of the toilet, hanging on for dear life as my inner muscles clenched again and again in an effort to dispel from my body all the bourbon I’d consumed. Every pause in my heaving saw me wailing and blubbering my apologies and my love. I was beyond embarrassment, beyond pride, beyond humiliation. Robert knelt by me and listened to it all, hushing me and offering me sips of water to swish around my mouth.

  When, finally, there was nothing left for me to throw up, he started the shower and then loaded my toothbrush, supporting my trembling frame as I brushed my teeth. He stripped off and led me into the shower recess, seating himself on the floor and encouraging me to join him. My legs were so shaky I didn’t hesitate to lower myself to sit between his splayed thighs, leaning my back against his chest. Despite having a stomach that felt as if I’d done a thousand sit-ups and a throat that had come off second best in a battle with a cheese grater, I was happy. I turned my face to the side and rubbed my cheek over his chest.

  “Love you,” I whispered. “Missed you so much.”

  The rational part of my brain, which was slowly reasserting itself, urged me to shut up, but my alcohol-fueled tongue and lonely heart kept me talking and confessing. And crying. Four months’ worth of unshed tears were finding their escape in one evening. I rambled and sniffled and shuddered, and all the while Robert crooned soothing sounds while busying himself with washing my hair and body.

  Every time I got myself worked up, he shushed me, placing soft kisses along the top of my head. He hushed me some more while he dried me, continuing even as he led me to my bed and tucked me in, then crawled in behind to spoon me.