Come Together

by Jessica Hawkins

  His fingers moved to my earlobe and tugged gently. “I’m sorry if we ruined your underwear.”

  I giggled softly. “It was worth it.”

  “Yes, but it’s not going to happen again.”

  “Okay,” I said, yawning and smacking my lips. I twisted my neck to prop my chin on his sternum and look up at him. His eyes were closed, and the television glare flashed over his face. So handsome.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Mhm.”

  “So handsome?”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip. “That could get to be a bad habit, thinking out loud.”

  “I think I’d like it if you did. It’d save me a hell of a lot of grief.”

  I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. “You’re exaggerating.”

  He just smiled and closed his eyes again, humming his satisfaction as he took a deep breath.

  “He cheated on my mom.”

  His eyes opened immediately. “Your dad?”

  I nodded my chin into his chest. “He told me yesterday.”

  “He kept it from you?”

  “To protect me, he says. Because he didn’t want me to go live with her.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  I crossed an arm over his chest and replaced my chin so our eyes were level. “I’m not happy that he lied to me, but I guess I get why he did it. Strangely, it doesn’t make me feel any more sympathetic toward my mom.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Probably because your issues with her aren’t just about that night.”

  “Should I start calling you Dr. David?”

  “It has a nice ring to it.”

  “She agreed to more alimony not to fight my dad for custody. She always told me it was because of the accident, and she couldn’t afford to lose.”

  “Do you think you would’ve gone to live with her if you’d known?”

  “I didn’t want to live with her because I blamed her for the divorce. She was jealous, she drank and I was a little bit scared of her. But if I’d known it wasn’t her fault . . . I’m not sure.”

  “I think most girls would choose their mother in a divorce, regardless of circumstances. That’s why I think this goes deeper than that. The night at my apartment, when she called and made you cry, you said she doesn’t love you.”

  “I did?” I tried to recall the time between the phone call and our bath, but it was hazy.

  “Yes. A parent is supposed to love their child unconditionally. If you never felt that from her . . . well, it’d explain a lot. That, in addition to her behavior, could be a large part of why it’s difficult for you to open up. If your own mother doesn’t love you for who you are, why would anyone else?”

  “That sounds so sad,” I mused.

  “It is sad. And completely fucked up. But you’re amazing in spite of it. You should be proud.”

  “I don’t know about that considering my actions lately, but I am grateful. I never knew it could be like this. I was happy and content before I met you. I loved, and I was loved. But I never experienced this . . . this desire to give myself over to another person, wholly and completely without holding anything back. It’s all new to me. I wouldn’t know that if you hadn’t fought for me.”

  His hand stroked my hair as he looked at me thoughtfully. “You say that like I had a choice.”

  “I love you.”

  He smiled. “I look forward to hearing that often.”

  “I’m sorry it took so long to say it.”

  “I don’t care. I never had any doubt.”

  “Never?” I asked, fighting my own smile.

  I laughed when the corner of his lip twitched. “Well, most of the time.”

  CHAPTER 19

  WITH A RED PEN shoved behind my ear, I hunched over the work I’d spread out on the tiny seatback tray table. I looked up when I felt David’s eyes on me.

  He smiled. “Hey.”

  I shifted so my back was to the window. He was reading the Business section of the Tribune, which he folded in his lap. “I like your glasses,” I said.

  He studied me a moment. “The better to see you with.”

  “They’re sexy.”

  It hadn’t taken much convincing for the airline to make a space for him on the full flight and, despite my objections, get us both upgraded to first class. I implied afterward that the conversation would’ve gone differently if he’d been talking to a man, but he insisted it was only because he was a good customer.

  His glasses were definitely sexy. And when his hand reached over and squeezed my thigh, my stomach dropped in just the right way. I nodded toward the front of the plane. He shook his head.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I’m not taking you in some disgusting airplane bathroom,” he said just above a whisper.

  I stuck out my lower lip. “It doesn’t bother me. It might be fun.”

  He eyed me dubiously. “I’m starting to worry that you’re only interested in me for sex.”

  I laughed too loudly and shrank down in my seat. “Would that bother you?” He didn’t laugh but continued to glare at me. “You’re really good at it,” I pointed out.

  He shook his head and turned back to his article.

  “Have you ever been in love?” I asked.

  He looked at me blankly before removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “I’m not discussing this on an airplane.”

  “Geez, what do you have against airplanes?”

  “Nothing, it’s just not very . . .” He paused to glance over his shoulder at the aisle. “Private,” he finished.

  “I’m just curious. It’s something most couples discuss before they move in together.”

  “Does that mean you’re moving in?”

  “That leads me to bullet point number two under Questions I Need to Ask: have you ever lived with a woman?”

  “I see you’re not going to be easily deterred.”

  “I’m learning from a pro.”

  “Funny. Of course I’ve been in love and, yes, I’ve lived with a woman.”

  My eyes drifted over his face as he looked back at me. He’d been in love, and he’d lived with another woman. For thirty-five years old, it wasn’t surprising news, but it somewhat eased my worries about his ability to commit.

  “If you want,” he said, “I’ll tell you all about them, but it’s completely inconsequential in my mind. I’ve loved two girls aside from you. We separated amicably, but we don’t keep in touch. And though I believed I loved them at the time, I didn’t know the meaning of love until I met you.”

  My lips twisted. “That sounds like a line.”

  “I know, but it’s the truth. I loved them differently than I love you. And certainly a great deal less.”

  “That’s really sweet. Thanks.”

  “I’m not trying to be sweet. You asked, and that’s my answer.”

  “Noted,” I said, stifling a smile. “So you’re not afraid of living with a girl? Hair products, tampons, constant company, sharing your bed . . . . You’re okay with all of that?”

  “Why are you asking me this?”

  “Now that we’re on the same page, I mean, I would understand if you wanted to slow down a little bit. I could get my own place for a while, and we could date until we’re ready to take the next step.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “I have no idea, a year, maybe?”

  “A year?” he barked, piercing the quietude.

  “Shh,” I said. “That’s usually how long a lease is.”

  “No. Absolutely not. Is that what you want?”

  “I want this relationship to work.”

  “It’s never going to work with you keeping one foot out the door, Olivia.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” I reassured him. “I’m not going anywhere. I just don’t want to spook you by moving too fast.”

  “You’re projecting. You think I want
something that I don’t. It makes me wonder if that’s what you want.”

  I smiled and slid my hand over his jeans. “Okay.”

  “Listen, this isn’t my first relationship as you seem to think.” He lowered his voice and leaned in marginally. “I know what I want, and it’s you; falling asleep next to me every night, waking up with me every morning. I actually don’t like having you out of my sight ever.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly possible to keep tabs on me all the time,” I said.

  “You’re telling me. I’ve tried to think of how I might without scaring you or ending up in prison.”

  I laughed. “You are so extreme.”

  “Only when it comes to you.”

  “And work.”

  “Up until now it’s been my priority.”

  I rubbed his leg. “I’m glad you do what you love.”

  “I do, but at the end of the day, it’s still a job.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I would still do it, even if I stopped loving it.”

  “Why?”

  “Wealth, prestige. It allows me this lifestyle.”

  “Lifestyle?” I asked with wide eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that important to you?”

  “Of course. I’ll never be the type of man to leave my family wanting.”

  “Baby, your happiness is a million times more important to me than ‘lifestyle.’ I know you feel the same about me.”

  “I do,” he said softly. “I’m lucky because I love it, but security is important to me. I want you to have everything you want.”

  “I do,” I assured him as I melted into my seat. “If it all went away tomorrow, but I still had you, I wouldn’t be any less happy.”

  “I’m glad you think so, but I refuse to find out.”

  “I’m just saying,” I said, reaching out and brushing my fingers over his hairline, “it’s not important to me.”

  He grabbed my hand before I could withdraw and kissed my palm. “So you wouldn’t mind if I gave up my place in San Sebastián? And we didn’t go to Spain?”

  “I know you’re teasing me, but no, I wouldn’t mind.”

  “That’s right, you hate vacation,” he said with a small smile.

  “Well,” I said. “I mean, hate isn’t really the right – if you want to take me – ”

  “Believe me, gorgeous, you will not hate our vacation. I want to take you to Spain, and I want to take you soon.”

  I sighed. “I would love that if I could ever get the time off.”

  “Don’t you have vacation days?”

  “Beman doesn’t like us to take them.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s against the law.”

  “Of course he can’t prohibit it, but I don’t need additional reasons to piss him off.”

  “Can’t say that I love how he treats you.”

  I shrugged. “He’s my boss.”

  “I can excuse his being demanding, but I can’t excuse him being a dick. Do you like the new position you’re in?”

  “I like it fine.”

  “But you don’t love it,” he stated.

  “Like you said, it’s a job.”

  “How about doing some writing? You liked it once; you might find you like it again.”

  I sighed again. Memory of an elephant, this guy. “I do write sometimes.”

  “I know. I’ve read some stuff on the Chicago M website.”

  “I’m better at editing.”

  “You can be good at both,” he pointed out. “And what I read was excellent.”

  “You think that because I’m sleeping with you. And how can you tell from a few stupid articles?”

  He gave me a stern, slightly scary look. “Do not downgrade yourself.”

  I blinked at him. “Okay.”

  “What does Beman think of your articles?” he asked.

  “Well . . . he’s complimentary.”

  “Do you think he’s just being nice?”

  I laughed loudly. “No. I’m sure he would relish telling me otherwise.”

  “Just because your mom is a writer, it wouldn’t mean you were following in her footsteps.”

  “I know . . . ,” I said, but my voice wavered.

  “I think you don’t want to give it a fair try because you’ve spent your life vowing not to turn into her.”

  “She used to tell me I wasn’t any good at it,” I admitted. “And it hurt.”

  Disgust marred his handsome features. “Don’t listen to that shit.”

  “I grew up thinking it was true.”

  “My guess? You say she was jealous of everyone, even you for getting your dad’s attention. Demeaning you made her feel in control while putting you in your place. I get the feeling whatever your hobby had been, she would’ve downgraded it.”

  My heart was racing. I’d never had anyone try so hard to figure me out. He wanted to show me the reasons I shut down, hid behind a mask; why I created the mask in the first place. He’d been doing it all weekend, and it was both unnerving and exhilarating. It was hard for me to admit, but, quietly, I said, “I think you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right, and I want you to prove her wrong.”

  “But it doesn’t change the fact that people would make the connection between us. Germaine isn’t exactly common. I’d be in her shadow.”

  “Use Dylan,” he suggested.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed dryly. Olivia Dylan. I tried it out in my head. I liked it. I liked it too much for someone who was still legally married.

  He chuckled, and I blinked up at him. “What?” I asked.

  “The expression on your face. And you thought I was easily spooked.”

  I scowled. “Anyway.”

  “Anyway what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, grasping for a change of topic.

  “Anyway, write something. Do it now. I’ll stop bothering you.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to write,” I said, but it wasn’t true. I thought back to a short story I’d written for a creative writing course in college. I only had a handful of pages, but it was something . . . .

  He leaned under the seat in front of me and grabbed my bag. “Here,” he said, excavating my laptop, “just try it for twenty minutes. If you hate it, we can have sex in the bathroom.”

  I sat up and widened my eyes. “Really?”

  “Really. But I’ll be timing you.”

  I accepted the computer. “Deal.”

  ~

  “Ma’am? It’s time to stow your laptop.”

  I looked up, blinking slowly at the flight attendant. “But . . .”

  David snickered into his fist.

  “Are we here?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, please stow the laptop and bring your seatback to the upright position.”

  “So how’d it go?” David asked, grinning as I packed up the computer.

  I answered him with a frown. “I didn’t want to do it in a disgusting airplane bathroom anyway.”

  “Liar.”

  I snuck my arm between his back and the seat to wrap him in a sideways hug, resting my head on his ribcage.

  “You realize that you wrote for an hour straight,” he said, rubbing my arm.

  I had read over my story, decided I liked it, and created an outline. I started thinking harder about characters, the ones I already had and the ones I would add. I’d even written another handful of pages. I smiled. He was right, of course. I had enjoyed it. “Thanks for making me do it.”

  “If it’s going to interfere with our sex life though, I may have to forbid it.”

  “Impossible,” I said through a smile, glancing up to catch his adoring gaze. As the plane began its descent, I reached up to finger a piece of his hair, and then I touched his lips. “I want to move in, David.”

  He squeezed me against him and kissed the top of my head. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  ~

&nbs
p; I followed David into the apartment and then to the bedroom. I put my suitcase next to his and waited for his next move. Just saying out loud that I wanted to move in didn’t make the apartment feel like mine. It still felt like sleeping at my boyfriend’s place.

  “Did you do this?” I asked, nodding at my side of the closet. I’d noticed while getting ready for work a few days earlier that my shopping bags were unpacked, everything neatly hung. All my new shoes were displayed like artwork on one of many shelves.

  “The housekeeper.”

  “And she took off the tags?”

  “I did that. To show you that I kept the faith.”

  “Well, that’s just bad business, Mr. Dylan. You would’ve been out a pretty penny if things hadn’t worked out.”

  He stepped forward and pulled me against his hard body. “I would’ve been out a lot more than that. Don’t do it again.”

  I nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “I won’t leave again.”

  “Now tell me you’re mine . . .”

  “I’m yours . . .”

  “And that you love me.”

  “I love you.”

  “I’m hard,” he said.

  I giggled. “I can feel. Is it all right if I shower first though?”

  “Olivia, Christ, you don’t need my permission to take a shower,” he said, releasing me.

  “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

  “Why? Just do as you please.”

  I looked at him skeptically. “I’ll be in the shower.”

  “If that’s what pleases you.” I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. “Listen, no bad behavior in the shower. I’ve barely fucked you in a week, so I want your complete attention tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, squirming slightly.

  “That means hands off my nozzle.”

  I raised an eyebrow and gave him my most lascivious smile. Then I left him and his hard-on in the closet. It might be some time before I got used to my new home, but it wouldn’t take forever. He made it easy because now, he was my home. And like Davena had tried to tell me, it didn’t matter where we were as long as we were together.

  Like Davena and Mack. Without really grasping it, I had always envied their love. And now I had it. I had no more doubts that David and I had the exceptional love that Mack and Davena did. The thought filled my heart with happiness.

  I hoped Mack’s reaction to my news would be positive once he saw how much David meant to me, but I still worried. I was finding that people’s reactions varied greatly, and it wasn’t always what I expected.