Tinsel

by Devney Perry

  I pressed a kiss to her temple, then dragged my lips down her cheek, finding the corner of her mouth. I dropped one open-mouthed kiss there and continued down. Her hands were still intertwined in mine, her legs around my back.

  We were threaded together.

  I went back to the spot where I’d bitten earlier and latched on, tickling the teeth marks with my tongue. Then I thrust harder, giving her what she wanted.

  “Oh god.” Her head thrashed on the pillow, her hair flying loose.

  “Come.” I ordered it into her skin, already feeling her pussy clench around my cock. “Yes,” I groaned, letting her draw me out as she released. The pressure at the base of my spine spiked, my balls tightened. And I let go, coating her with me as the world disappeared.

  I stayed inside her after we’d both come down, letting myself leak out between us. I let go of her hands to wrap her up while she dropped her fingers to my back, splaying them over my damp skin.

  Her legs tightened, pulling my softening cock even deeper into her body. “This is the best part of my day.”

  “Mine too.”

  We stayed like that for a few minutes, just breathing. Just feeling one another’s heartbeats echo in different rhythms. But eventually, the light streaming through the blinds forced us up and apart.

  I got off the bed first, extending a hand to help Sofia to her feet. She leaned into me, kissing the skin over my heart, before walking on unsteady feet to the bathroom.

  “Are you coming to work with me today?” I asked, trailing behind her.

  She nodded. “You don’t have to go until three, right?”

  “Yeah.” I’d been back to my normal schedule this week, covering most of the nights at the bar. It was a schedule I’d always liked, having my mornings free for whatever I needed to do. But it was dragging on Sofia.

  She’d work here during the day, trying to keep up with everything at the dance studio, then would come to work and hang out with me until we closed. The bar had been quiet, so we’d been able to close down well before two each night. But it was still late, and she was trying to manage two different time zones.

  “You don’t have to. You could stay here. Go to bed early.”

  She shook her head as she turned on the shower then smiled over her shoulder. “I want to stay with you.”

  She hadn’t left my side in two weeks.

  Dad’s death had rocked me off my footing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever completely recover, but there was no going back. I couldn’t change what had happened. Would I regret where things had ended? Always. It was a weight I’d carry until my last day.

  But I was okay.

  “I’m okay, babe.”

  “I still want to be with you.” She stepped into the shower, tipping her head back into the stream. Water ran down her nose and soaked her hair.

  I got in beside her, waiting as she swiped the water from her face and spun so we could trade places.

  Since she’d been here, Sofia and I had found this routine where we got ready together.

  We’d shower together, a dance so easy and fluid it was like we’d never showered apart. She’d wet her hair. I’d wet and shampoo mine while she squirted body wash on a shower puff. She’d shampoo her hair while I scrubbed. Then she’d put in some conditioner and let it soak while she washed.

  I’d get out first, go to the sink to shave and brush my teeth. It was perfectly timed so that when she was ready to get out, I’d be done. I’d hand her two towels, one for her body and another for her hair.

  She’d take my place at the sink, working on her hair and makeup while I got dressed.

  When I looked into the future, trying to picture a life with this woman, all I saw was that black box. I couldn’t picture us living together or getting married or having children.

  The only thing I could make out was this morning routine.

  It was something.

  But not enough.

  “I’ll bring you some coffee.” I kissed her bare shoulder then went into the bedroom to get dressed.

  I pulled on some jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then replayed the questions Mom had asked me two weeks ago.

  Will you get married? Will you move away? Will you have children?

  Mom’s questions had been loaded with dread. My own mother was disappointed in me for finding a woman I loved. A woman with a good family, with an education, with a career and dreams.

  A woman who could give her beautiful grandchildren she didn’t seem to want. Dad had helped teach me percentages in grade school by using blood quantum analogies. It was so ingrained in our household, I understood Mom’s disappointment. I didn’t agree with it, but I understood.

  It was madness.

  “Goddamn madness,” I muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on some socks.

  “What did you say?” Sofia poked her head out of the bathroom, her pink toothbrush in one hand.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head.

  She waited, knowing there was something bothering me. I think she’d been waiting for two weeks for me to tell her why we’d flown out of my mother’s house so quickly.

  The last thing I wanted was for her to feel unworthy. She wasn’t. But my own personal hang-ups were fucking with me.

  Her money was still an issue for me. Her heritage. If Dad hadn’t died, maybe these things wouldn’t be plaguing me. Maybe I would have had an easier time saying fuck it all, because he’d be around and I could try and win him over.

  I loved her.

  I needed her.

  Sofia was my one, like Mom was for him.

  But he wasn’t on this earth any longer. His ghost wasn’t going to change his opinions.

  “It’s nothing, babe.” I stood and went over to her for a kiss on her bare lips, tasting a hint of mint. “I’ll get coffee.”

  It hurt her when I shut her out. I saw the pain flash in her eyes. But I kept quiet, hoping I’d get my head lined up before we had our talk.

  I left the room and went to get the coffee going. When it was done, I took her mug back to the bathroom, another part of our routine.

  “What do you want for breakfast?” I set her coffee down on the vanity.

  She found my gaze in the mirror. “The truth.”

  “Sofia.” I sighed. “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t do that,” she snapped, diving into her makeup bag. She spoke to me through the mirror as she furiously swiped on some moisturizer. “You know what I learned after two failed marriages? I never wanted to really talk to my ex-husbands. I didn’t really care what they had to say. With you? Every cell in my body cares. Every word means something, I care so much. Do you?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then talk. Be honest with me. Please,” she begged. “I’ve never had honest, and I’m aching for it.”

  Christ, I couldn’t say no. This conversation was going to end one of two ways. Either we’d come out of it stronger. Or she’d be on a plane back to New York with my broken heart in her handbag.

  I’d dealt enough poker games to understand odds.

  These were not in my favor.

  “I don’t know where to start,” I admitted, setting down my coffee cup. Then I went to the toilet seat, sitting down and letting my shoulders hunch forward.

  “How about with the basics? Do you want to live in Montana?” she asked.

  “Yes. Do you?”

  “No. Not full-time.”

  I sighed. “I have to work. I have bills to pay. Which means I need to live here.”

  “I have money. We could pay off your properties and buy a hundred more if you want. You don’t have to work at the bar unless you want to. Isn’t that the goal of your properties anyway? To leverage your investments so you can travel and be free to come and go as you please?”

  “Yes, it is. Which is why I have to work. I’m not taking your money.”

  Sofia was bent close to the mirror, putting on some foundation with a sponge. She froze at my statement, the sponge
poised right next to her nose. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I’m not that man.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I gave her one nod. “Yes.”

  She rolled her eyes, dabbing the tip of her nose and putting the sponge away. She yanked a brush from her makeup bag and a small black compact. She opened it, pressing the brush so hard into the powder that little pink dust particles flew around her hand. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

  I sat there waiting, thinking she’d come up with something soon. But she just went about putting on her makeup.

  She went for the eyeshadow next. The entire time she put it on her eyelids, her nostrils were flaring. After that, she swiped on some liner and then mascara.

  I still waited, thinking words would follow the makeup. But she put her cosmetic bag away and got out her hair dryer. The noise it created blocked out any chance of conversation. With every angry stroke of her brush through her hair, I heard her though.

  I knew better than to leave the room. So I sat on the toilet, biding my time.

  She finished with her hair, put away the dryer and turned to me with a hand perched on her hip.

  This was it.

  Make or break time. She’d either understand I was a man and there were certain lines I’d drawn. Or this would be a hurdle we couldn’t get over.

  “Your pride is foolish.” She was fuming, but her voice was eerily steady. “Foolish male pride.”

  “It’s not—”

  “It is.” She stopped me with a hand. “I’m not giving up my money because you have some caveman, animalistic desire to be the provider in the house.”

  “Babe, that’s not what I’m saying. I want you to have your money.”

  Her anger deflated, confusion taking over. “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I’m never going to be able to provide you the life you’re used to.”

  “That’s what I mean!” She stood tall. “That’s just prid—”

  “Hold up.” I stood from the toilet, walking to her and putting my hands on her shoulders. “I’m never going to be able to provide you the life you’re used to. I made peace with that a long time ago. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take your money. I need to be successful. On my own.”

  “You already are,” she whispered.

  My heart squeezed that she saw me like that. “I’m not there yet.”

  “Where is there? You work so hard. You’re so ambitious. And I thought you were doing it for yourself. To be free and travel the world or whatever you wanted. I can give you that. Right now. And that doesn’t make you any less successful.”

  “It’s not . . . it’s not just for the money.”

  “Then why?” Her eyes pleaded with me for an explanation she’d understand.

  “Because I want my family to see me as successful. So maybe they get why I left. That the life I’ve chosen isn’t a bad one. And if I take your money, they’ll never recognize my own accomplishments.”

  Even with Dad gone, maybe because he was gone, the desire to prove myself was as strong as ever.

  “Oh.” Her eyes flooded, and she blinked them rapidly to keep the tears from ruining her makeup. “So you’ll stay here. Struggling and working yourself to the bone. Making me watch as you refuse to let me help you.”

  “Sofia—”

  She shook her head, stepping away from me and out of the bathroom. Stripping off her towel, she tossed it on the bed and went to the closet. With her back to me, she pulled on some panties and strapped on a bra. Then she dug through the hangers for something to wear.

  She’d unpacked her things into my closet the week she’d come here after Dad’s funeral. I’d been so fucking happy not to have her living in those suitcases this time around.

  But after she pulled on a long sweatshirt-type dress that hung to her ankles and some stark-white tennis shoes, she paused. Her face was aimed toward the suitcase in the bottom of the closet.

  Fuck.

  She was going to leave.

  I took a step forward, reaching for her just as she spun around. The tears in her eyes made me stop.

  “If you asked, I’d give it all up.”

  “I’d never ask,” I said gently.

  “I know. But I’d give it all up. Every cent if it meant we could be together and on the same wavelength. Should I?”

  “No.” I didn’t want that for her. She shouldn’t be without, forced to work for an hourly wage with a small-town job just because I had something to prove.

  “It’s not fair.” She wiped a tear away from one eye before it could fall. “Why is it that money is the reason I can’t be happy? My ex-husbands just wanted my money. My feelings and my heart were an afterthought.”

  I grimaced, hating those two bastards and the pain they’d caused her. Though today, I wasn’t doing much better.

  “And now you.” She swung out a hand. “You want me but not my money. Why can’t I have both? Why can’t you just accept that it is part of who I am? Why can’t we share a life?”

  “We can.” I hoped.

  “How is that going to work?” She cocked a hip. “I decide to go on vacation. But you can’t afford a last-minute trip so you stay behind? Or how about something is happening at the studio, and I need to spend a few weeks in the city, but you can’t take off work because you need to make a few thousand dollars.”

  “I’ll stay.”

  “And I’ll go,” she huffed. “Separate lives. We’re doomed to live separate lives. You are so hung up on the version of your life you’ve been living for years, you can’t see the new version, the better version, right in front of your face.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I admitted.

  “I am.”

  Without another word, she turned and walked out of the bedroom. I followed her down the hall and through the living room. But instead of going to the kitchen like I’d expected, she went to the front door, lifting her coat from the hook as she walked.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a walk.”

  “Don’t.” I snagged her arm, stopping her before she could put on her coat. “Don’t go.”

  It didn’t take much coercing for her to drop her coat. Just a gentle tug on her elbow and she tossed it on the floor and came right into my arms.

  “I don’t want to fight.”

  “Me neither,” she said into my chest.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “You have to decide, Dakota. You.” She walked out of my hold. But instead of going to the door, she walked over to the couch and sank down on the edge.

  I followed and sat by her side, relieved she hadn’t left. After how I’d left things with Dad, I couldn’t stomach leaving things undone with anyone, especially Sofia.

  “I want to get married again.” She said it quietly and without hope. “I want to have a marriage. A real marriage with my best friend. I want children.”

  I cringed, and she felt it.

  Her eyes snapped to my profile. “You don’t?”

  “It’s complicated.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If she had reacted like this to the money conversation, my issues with children were going to send her racing out the door. “I feel guilty.”

  “Guilty?”

  “Yeah. Guilty. I wanted kids once. But then things got so twisted up. If we had kids . . .”

  “Oh my god,” she gasped, figuring it out so I didn’t have to say it. “Your family. You can’t have kids with me because I’m white? You’d feel guilty?”

  Christ, it sounded awful when she said it out loud.

  Sofia shot off the couch, but she didn’t leave. She just stood above me, her chest heaving as she fought the urge to either slap me or cry.

  Probably both.

  “This is insane, Dakota. It’s completely fucked up.”

  She wasn’t wrong. It was fucked up. But that still didn’t help me figure out how to un-fuck it up.

  Sofia took a few steps, makin
g a circle as she thought it all over. She dragged her fingers through her hair, pulling hard at the roots. “You have to choose. God, I hate even saying that. But I can’t change who I am.”

  “I know. I don’t want you to change.”

  She scoffed. “Someone has to give here, love.”

  “Can you see this is killing me?” I ran my hands over my face. “I know this is my burden. I know I’m putting it all on you. But you wanted the truth. That’s where I’m at. That’s my battle.”

  The battle I felt like I’d been fighting my entire life.

  Choose Sofia, and I’d lose my family.

  Choose my family, and I’d lose the love of my life.

  I’d walked away from the reservation years ago. I’d convinced myself I’d forged my own path.

  Except all of the things I’d shunned seemed more important now that Dad was gone.

  “I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice broke. “But I don’t want to lose me either. I feel like I’ve worked so hard to find myself this year. I don’t want to give up the woman you fell in love with.”

  “Come here.” I waved her over.

  She came to me, dropping to her knees in front of me instead of sitting next to me on the couch. Her hands threaded through my hair.

  “You are you. Maybe you feel like you discovered yourself this year, but I’ve seen you since the beginning. And I fell in love with you the moment you tripped and fell on a bunch of peanut shells.”

  She laughed, a tear falling from one of her eyes. “There has to be a way.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “We will?”

  I had no fucking clue, so I lied. “We will.”

  “When? We can’t ignore all of this.”

  “I know. Let’s get through Thanksgiving with your parents. Let’s just . . . it’s out there.” We both knew the choice I had to make.

  “Okay.” She nodded, the hope in her eyes dulling. “I think I’m going to take a quick walk. I have a call with Daniel in an hour, and I need to get my head clear first.”

  The last thing I wanted was for her to leave, but at least she’d stayed to talk. Not that anything was solved. She was still walking out the door. This time, it was only for a walk. Next time . . .