The Absolutely True Story of Us

by Melanie Marchande

  "I figured out that you probably created M to help me," I admit. "Which is...sweet, if misguided."

  He nods, still facing away from me. "I knew you'd hate it. You and your integrity. So I figured, it couldn't hurt you if you just...never knew about it. Anyway, I wanted to do it. Once you told me about the online book world, I got kind of fascinated. From a marketing perspective, it's a whole different ecosystem with its own rules and exploits. I justified it as market research. I mean, let's be honest, are big ad agencies like mine going to be around forever?"

  He shrugs, mostly to himself. "Of course not. Things are changing all the time now, and faster every day. These days, with communication so fast and easy compared to what it used to be, grassroots marketing is the next big thing. I wanted to play around in that sandbox."

  "Those are real people, you know," I point out. "Real people who really trusted your opinion, and you were just using them as guinea pigs?"

  "At first," he admits. "But then I really started to enjoy it. People actually wanted and valued my opinions. It was the complete opposite of my job. Nobody told me that my copy wasn't good enough, or that I needed to 'make it pop,' or that it didn't 'feel right' and I should scrap the idea they already approved last month and start over. Not once. It was just pure, unadulterated appreciation. Maybe I let it go to my head, a little bit."

  "Maybe," I snort.

  "I really do feel bad about that Mergers & Acquisitions review," he says, finally turning to look at me. "At the time, it seemed like the only way to get my credibility back."

  "And piss me off," I point out.

  He shrugs. "That wasn't a primary goal."

  "Please."

  "Fine. Maybe I was feeling a little vindictive." He paces the length of the room again. "But I knew you were a tough cookie. You could take it. There's no such thing as bad publicity, anyway. If I really thought it would hurt you, I never would've published it. But everything I criticized about the book is shit that plenty of people love. That's just how it works."

  He pauses, sort of half-smiling a little. "For the record, I actually liked the book a lot."

  "Wow." I sit down on the end of the bed, crossing my legs. "Your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

  Dean sighs, pulling out the desk chair and sitting down. "Here's the thing, Lissy, I never meant for any of this to go down the way it did. After the review came out, I kept waiting for some kind of reaction from you. I don't know what I expected, but I thought...I don't know. It started to bug me that you were acting like it just didn't exist. And that's where I should've just let it go. It was petty of me."

  I have to laugh a little bit. "Right. That was petty. The review itself, on the older hand...totally justified."

  "I didn't say it was," he cuts in, shaking his head. "Even if I really did hate it, I would've felt bad about saying so. But the fact that I lied, just to boost my own credibility - well, I do have a conscience. I shouldn't have used you like that. Even knowing you'd be okay, it was wrong. I should've just let it go. My whole 'scandal' would have blown over anyway, but I didn't give it a chance. I thought I needed to do damage control." He sighs. "And then, I started poking at you. I guess I just wanted an excuse to reconnect. It was so hard to understand what you were thinking after the shit went down...I realized I had this opportunity to get to know you, all over again. Of course that's not how I expected it to go, not at first. At first I figured you'd tell me to go fuck myself if I tried to talk to you."

  A wry smile tugs at my mouth. "Didn't realize how much of a masochist I really am."

  "Guess I didn't," he admits, with an answering half-grin. "That's what I get for underestimating you once again."

  "So the sexting thing..."

  "It wasn't calculated," he says. "I swear. I never intended for things to go in that direction, because, well, it was a bad idea. You caught me at a weird time. I was drunk and horny and I figured, hey, why the hell not. I can fool around with her, she'll never find out it was me, it's harmless, it'll be fun. I never intended to do a repeat performance. Certainly not...dozens."

  My voice is soft and demure. I hardly recognize it. "It was pretty addictive, wasn't it?"

  "Very," he says, still smiling. "After you called and asked me to help out with your little 'based on a true story' problem, well, I figured I'd just quit. There was no way I could maintain the two identities while we were living together. But I found a way. That app has a handy little scheduling feature, for one."

  Oh, for fuck's sake.

  "Of course." I'm laughing at myself. "God bless technology."

  There's a hint of nostalgia in Dean's eyes. "I have to admit it was fascinating, getting to know that side of you. I'd never seen it before. Not even close. You were so passionate, and wild, and for a while I was just angry that you'd never bothered to show me any of that. Then I started wondering if maybe I didn't deserve it, because I didn't try. M gave me a chance to start over. To really give you the kind of man you'd always wanted in your life."

  I hug my knees against my chest. "You thought I was cold."

  "I did." He nods. "I thought you'd just...I don't know, Lissy. I thought all kinds of things, to try and explain how things broke down between us. It took me a long time to really accept how much of it was my fault. I wanted you to trust me, but I didn't want to do the work to earn it. And at the same time, from the beginning, I knew I didn't really deserve it. Not when I was lying to you all along. I wanted you, but I wanted some version of you that had never been hurt before. But that's unfair. I realize that now. Everybody comes with baggage."

  "Even you?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

  "Even me," he admits. "This might shock you, but I'm not perfect."

  "Wow, you've really grown as a person."

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, briefly, as he shuts his eyes. "God. I haven't even gotten to the proposal yet. Look, your parents..."

  "It's okay," I reassure him. "I know how they can be. I mean...it's not okay, but I know it's not entirely your fault."

  "They really did come in like a hurricane," he admits. "Your mother insisted that you wanted a public proposal in front of the whole family, and if I hadn't picked up on that, it was just because I lacked a mother's intuition." He grimaces. "I knew you'd be pissed off that I talked to them alone, so I figured I'd just humor her, and keep putting it off. But that's not really possible, with your clan."

  "No, it is not." I smile, sympathetically. "That absolutely sucked, but at least it got us here."

  "Is this really what you wanted?" Dean leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. I want to look away, because it's too much, with all of these revelations coming so quickly and stacking on top of each other to the point where I'm not sure who I'm looking at anymore. But I don't. "Wouldn't you rather M just stay safe and untouched in the lockbox of your imagination? He could be anybody. He could be a secret agent. Instead of..."

  He drifts off, like he's searching for some kind of epithet to describe himself, and comes up short. What is he to me, these days? What do I want him to be?

  "No," I tell him softly. "I'm glad it's you. I wouldn't rather it be anybody else."

  And it's true, to my surprise. Dean's eyes soften a little.

  "I'm sorry I could never be what you needed before," he says, his voice a little lower and quieter. "I'm sorry I took you for granted."

  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I wanted," I admit, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "I just...I didn't know how."

  "I know," he says. His tongue briefly flicks out to lick his lips. "I don't blame you."

  "I figured you wouldn't want to," I confess. "I figured there was no point, because you'd just laugh it off or call me weird or...I don't know. Something."

  "I wouldn't have," he says. "But I don't think I was ready, either. You can't be a Dom and be selfish. I thought it was the opposite, at first, but it's all about caring for somebody. Trying to anticipate their needs, and know them better than they know themselves. That's what all
relationships should be, really. And I never put in that kind of energy for you. I never put in the effort."

  Something has changed in the air between us. A tension sparked, thickening, and I know this isn't the right time to let things go in that direction, but right now? I don't care.

  I stare at Dean, and he stares back.

  "I can't stop thinking about spanking you," he confesses, his eyes burning into mine. "I'm going to hell, right?"

  "At least you won't be alone there." I lick my lips, standing up slowly. His gaze never leaves me as I slip out of my jeans and clamber onto the bed, on my hands and knees.

  "No," he says, softly, beckoning me towards him with one finger.

  Well, all right then.

  I come towards him and I pause, standing next to him, staring down at his lean, powerful thighs, where I'm supposed to drape my body. I'm biting my lip.

  "If you want it, this is how it's going to be," he says, quietly. Firmly.

  I do it. My feet still dangle on the floor, and I'm grabbing the edge of the desk to support myself, to keep all the blood from rushing to my head. Not that there will be much danger of that, once he starts.

  "I know it seems strange," he says, his hand resting on my ass. "But this is my apology. It's also your atonement. But I think it can be both, and I think, for us at least, that actually makes some kind of twisted sense."

  I nod.

  The first smack is gentle. Loving. It wasn't what I expected, but then again, nothing that's happened between us is necessarily what you'd expect.

  "It took me a long time to really understand," he says, softly, before the next one lands. A little harder, but still not enough to make me jump. "The reason I was so angry, the reason it was easy to almost...almost hate you, for a while, after it happened...was because of how much I loved you."

  Smack.

  "It seems obvious now. But I didn't get it at the time. And then, with M...I thought it was just fun to mess with you. I'll be honest. I liked that I could make you vulnerable, because I felt like you'd shut me out. I felt like you'd always been shutting me out, since the beginning."

  Smack. It's harder this time. I squirm, feeling him stiffen underneath me.

  "Pretty soon, though, it was more than that. I think you felt it too. Fuck that, I know you did. Am I right?"

  I swallow, hard. "Yes."

  Smack.

  "I didn't want to accept it, especially after we started playing house. It was too dangerous. It was such a bad idea, with so many pitfalls, and so many reasons to walk away. I was going to kill off M, and after the 'relationship' was over I'd shake your hand, and I'd never see you again. That was the plan." There's a sharp intake of breath as his hand drifts down between my legs, feeling me grow hot and wet for him. "But then you kissed me."

  Smack.

  I laugh, a little breathlessly. "Is that for the kiss?"

  "Yes. And no." His other hand strokes my hair, and I let out a little noise that's almost a purr. "Because it also made me realize something I don't think I would have let myself, otherwise."

  I don't realize I'm holding my breath until he speaks again.

  "I still love you, Lissy."

  I fill my lungs with one sharp gasp.

  "I'm not saying that so you'll say it back," he murmurs.

  Smack.

  "I'm saying it," he goes on, "because you deserve to know. This isn't just about punishments and corsets and unresolved tension from years ago. This isn't about me wanting a second chance to prove myself to you. That's all part of it, but that was all just leading to the inevitable conclusion."

  Smack.

  "I love you. I loved you when I first saw you, and I was scared to lose you, and that's why I lied. I didn't know how to love you back then. It was all a mess and it was mostly my fault for not knowing you, and not trying to know you. It seemed so complicated and difficult when it was really very simple."

  Smack.

  I'm panting now, excitement heavy in my belly, but I'm fighting to focus on his words.

  He still loves me.

  "I was afraid to know you," he says, at last. "I was afraid to find out that you were beyond me. I was afraid to find out that I couldn't be what you needed, so I just let things stay the way they were. I never asked the questions I didn't want to know the answers to."

  Smack.

  "And you deserved more than that. Better than that. No, Lissy, you weren't blameless, but I'm the one who set the tone. How could I expect you to trust me, when I didn't trust you?"

  And that's it.

  That's the one thing I've never quite been able to put my finger on, the fatal flaw in our relationship. And he's managed to put words to it, before I even could.

  "Dean," I moan, and I feel him hesitate, his hand ready to strike. "Dean, I l..."

  "Stop," he commands. "Not now. You're emotionally compromised. You're drunk on hormones. If you still feel it afterwards, tell me then."

  Smack.

  This one is hard, but that's not what makes the tears spring to my eyes. He's right. But I know this goes deeper. I never stopped loving him either, and without knowing it, that's why I was so desperate to connect with M. I felt the same bond with him, and now I understand why.

  His fingers dip low again, and I gasp.

  "Please," I whisper. "I need..."

  "What?" he whispers back, his hand stilling.

  "I want to make love," I confess.

  Yes, that's right. I want to make love to the man who called me frigid and frustrated. I want to make love to the liar, the dominant, the man who wore leather pants just because I asked him to.

  For once, I don't want to fuck. I want more.

  He's lifting me up now, so he can stand and lead me to the bed. I stretch out underneath him, luxuriating in the desire that radiates from him.

  A moment later he's close to me, so close that our foreheads almost touch. I need him closer.

  "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice heavy with lust.

  I'm nodding before I even understand the question. He's asking because we haven't done it like this, not face-to-face, since we were still a couple.

  Yes, I'm sure.

  A moment later, he pushes inside me with a soft groan. I watch how his face changes, drinking it in, seeing everything I've missed, all the things I've never seen before.

  I wrap my legs around him, and I lose myself in the feeling. It's slow and steady at first, then faster, harder, faster, and I'm pretty sure the headboard is shaking and I'm not sure if this counts as lovemaking anymore.

  And I really, really don't care.

  I realize that I'm begging for more, panting his name, gripping the wooden slats behind my head and trying to keep from moaning too loud. The bed is creaking in time with every sharp thrust, and I -

  "Ah," I cry out, because that's as quiet as I can possibly be when he pushes me over the edge.

  Moments later, he follows, panting and shuddering in my arms. It's a rare moment of weakness for a man who dominated my life and my heart in two separate identities.

  It's worth treasuring, even though I know there will be many more.

  A few moments later, he rolls off of me and pulls me close again, pillowing my head against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat brings me back down to earth. Slowly.

  I don't know how long we've been lying there, but the floaty sensation is starting to go away. I feel grounded, my euphoria slowly being replaced by contentment.

  "Dean, I..."

  "Look at me," he interrupts, stroking the side of my cheek with his thumb. I do.

  His eyes are calm and clear, and I hope mine are, too. I know why he's doing this. He has to make sure it's real.

  "Yes, Lissy?" His breath is warm brushing past my face. He's almost smiling, but not quite.

  "I love you." The words come out so easily, despite the weight of them. I'm almost shocked at how easily. Like the feeling never left, because of course it didn't.

  His smile finally comes to l
ife, breaking like sunshine across his face.

  "I loved you when you were a snarky bastard who wanted to see my panties," I tell him. "I loved you when you told me that someday I'd learn to trust somebody again. And when you told me I should wear a bikini."

  I take a deep breath, and go on.

  "I loved you the day I saw you with her. I loved you when you came home. I loved you when you left."

  My eyes are swimming in tears, and I'm not even sure when it happened.

  "It never stopped, not even when I wanted it to. I loved you when I hated you, and once I realized you'd never really cheated, that you only lied because you didn't want to lose your friend...I was devastated."

  "I know," he says, softly. Finally. That smile just won't go away. "That was me you came and cried to, remember?"

  "Right." My cheeks are turning red. "Of course I remember."

  "It's a little bit hard to keep track," he says. "Hence, my fatal mistake."

  "Third time's the charm." I grin. "You know, it took me a while to notice."

  "I thought you might not notice at all," he admits. "But I panicked right after I sent it. That's why I called you. I was hoping it would be enough of a distraction."

  "It almost was," I tell him. "But I knew something wasn't right. Jack said I must've told you...meaning M...at some point, and forgotten about it. But I was sure I hadn't. That didn't make any sense. The only thing that made any sense was..."

  "I'm just glad you get it now," he says, and I'm pretty sure I know what he's referring to.

  "I do," I reply. "And I'm so...so sorry that things happened the way they did. Jessica..."

  He smiles, a little wistfully. "That was almost entirely my fault. It looked just as suspicious to her as it did to you. She thought I was secretly in love with her, because otherwise why would I lie? That was really what drove her away, not the fact that you and I were breaking up."

  "It's shitty anyway." I let my eyes drift away from his, down past his neck, to his chest, all the solid planes of muscle intersecting. "I love Jack to death. I'd be wrecked if something like that happened. But I was just...when everything went down, I was so angry, I couldn't possibly see things from your point of view. I was just trying to protect myself."