by Penny Wylder
I can honestly say that anal sex isn’t really something that I’ve thought a lot about. Obviously in searching porn I’ve seen some. But I’ve never tried anything with that, even in my experimentation with toys. Tristan’s cock is big enough that I feel stretched when he’s fucking me normally. In my ass? I can’t even imagine. And I have absolutely no concept of how it might feel.
Good night, Jill.
She sends back a heart. My phone buzzes again, and I think she might be about to beg one more time, but it’s Tristan.
Glad you’re home, but wishing you were with me here. Send me a fantasy video. I need inspiration when you’re not here.
After all the sex you need porn?
I can almost hear him laughing.
I need to be able to plan your next fantasy fuck.
The ability that this man has to turn me on with a simple sentence is fucking astounding. What can I send him? It takes me a moment to think about my favorite videos—the ones that I always go to when I’m looking for something quick and easy to get me off.
One comes to mind, and I pull it up quickly on my phone.
Fine. Here.
It’s a video of a couple in a darkened space, and she’s being fucked against a wall. The man has her arms spread, pinning her wrists against the wall as he pounds into her, and her legs are wrapped around his waist. Effectively the only thing holding her up is his cock, and there’s something about that to me that makes me wet imagining it.
I don’t dare let the image of me and Tristan doing that into my mind, because I know that it will have me reaching for my vibrator and I’ve already had so much sex that I think my body needs a break from it all.
My phone vibrates.
Naughty girl.
I laugh. You asked. I’m passing out now. You wore me out.
A second later another text comes through.
Dream of me.
I wake up far earlier than I intend to Sunday morning. I crashed so hard that my body pops awake in a way I wish it would do on weekdays. I’m not a morning person.
I don’t have any texts from Tristan yet, so I’m assuming that he’s not awake. He’s made it a habit of texting me good morning, and I like it. It makes me feel loved and cared for.
I really hadn’t meant to tell him I loved him like that. But it’s the truth. And that sits uncomfortably in my stomach, because I know that now it’s time to find the real truth. I’ve ignored what Jill said for long enough, and now I have to face whatever it is.
It’s a little shocking to me that I didn’t think to google Tristan while he was away, but I never needed to. We’re friends on social media, and he had enough pictures to keep me satisfied—and every time he posted a photo without a woman I was relieved. In the four years he was gone he never posted a photo with a woman. I’m not naive enough to think that he was entirely celibate during that time, but I’m glad that I didn’t have to witness it.
I roll over on my stomach, cradling one of my pillows and type ‘Tristan Swallows’ into google. And I feel my eyebrows rise into my hairline when the first word I see in the first headline is ‘SCANDAL.’
What?
SENATOR’S DAUGHTER’S TEENAGE PREGNANCY SHOCKS THE WORLD.
I click on the first news article and start to read at the same time my heart starts to sink in my chest. The article outlines what happened: That Tristan Swallows had an affair with the daughter of a state senator. He left his family on the day she turned eighteen and married her. Sources claim there had been no sexual contact before that. She was pregnant within three months. There was an arrest and an investigation since people suspected that she might have been pregnant before her eighteenth birthday, but he was cleared of all charges. But there was so much blowback that the senator eventually resigned.
I find a dozen articles that say the same thing with varying levels of detail. Some claim that he had been sleeping with the girl long before she was legal. Some don’t.
How did I not know this? Tristan has a child? He was married? He’s never worn a ring, not as long as I’ve known him. What did I do? Is he still married now?
Fuck.
Now I understand why Jill said it might not look that good. Putting someone up for a bachelor’s auction when their first google result is a scandal with a possibly underage girl, it’s hard to see how that won’t turn into bad press. But she’s still willing to do it. So maybe she thinks it won’t be that bad?
I feel queasy, but also hesitant. What if I’m misinterpreting this? What if there’s more to it? What if they got the story wrong?
My thoughts start spinning a million miles an hour. Does my dad know about this? If he does, and he still chose to keep Tristan in his life, then that means something, right?
What does it mean?
I take a deep breath. None of this makes sense. I need to ask him about it. What happens if it is true? Does that change my opinion of him? It won’t change the fact that I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him for so long that it’s as natural as breathing. But if it is true…is this a pattern?
I need to talk to someone about this or I’m going to explode. And right now, the only other person that knows about this is Jill. And thankfully, my best friend is a morning person. If she’s not awake by now, I’ll be shocked.
Are you up?
Yep! Morning.
The panic in my chest eases a little.
I know that I used you as an alibi yesterday but is there a chance that we could actually get breakfast? I have shit that I need to talk about.
Are you okay?
I sigh. How much do I tell her right now?
I just googled Tristan because I had no idea what you were talking about. I didn’t know any of this stuff and I’m confused and mildly panicking and I would like to do that with you before I actually ask him about it.
She doesn’t even hesitate.
Meet me at the Pancake Parlor in twenty minutes.
Done.
Throwing the covers off, I jump in the shower to rinse off and pull on some clothes. Nothing fancy, just clothes. I’m doing everything with incredible focus so that I don’t have to think and I don’t have time to let myself ask more questions. That’s just a recipe for disaster.
One thing is for sure. Something doesn’t add up. And I think that’s what scares me the most. The lack of knowledge, not the scandal itself. Because as much as I appreciate now that Tristan and I weren’t together when I was younger, if he had so much as glanced my way, I would have gone for it with full force. I would not have cared that it were illegal.
I could barely make myself wait to approach him till I turned eighteen, so I’m not exactly one to be throwing stones in that department. But how did I not know this about him? How did I not know that he’s a father and has an ex-wife? Maybe?
I grab my keys and practically sprint out the door, not answering when Mom calls after me from the kitchen. I don’t have the energy to keep up the charade this morning—I can apologize to her later. Right now I need to have a good old-fashioned word vomit session with my best friend.
11
Nicola
It’s Wednesday. And I haven’t seen Tristan.
Have I been avoiding him? Maybe.
Partially because I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to say to him, and partially because I don’t know how the conversation is going to go, and for that reason alone, I don’t think that it can happen at work. I’ve only barely been answering his texts and throwing myself completely into my work.
I feel constantly gripped by a panic that I can’t precisely explain, but I can’t get rid of either. I’ve been waiting for this for so long and I have it. I don’t want to lose it because of something that I could have known through a fucking google search.
The only good thing that’s happened is that I think I’ve finally cracked the formula I want for orange basil, and even that isn’t free from me thinking about Tristan because he’s the one who helped me crack it. I can
’t wait until Friday when I get to test this sample because it’s finally hitting my senses the way that I imagined it, and when that happens the tests usually go well.
The door opens to the lab, and when I turn I see Tristan walking in, his face determined. My heart starts to pound and my body reacts with visceral need, but my brain and heart are so confused that I can barely look at him.
He stops short and looks at me. He knows something is wrong—he has to. “Hi,” I say.
“Hey.” Tristan’s eyes are boring into me. I can feel them even if I’m not looking directly at him. “How are you?”
“I’m good. I have the formula. Finally. I think.”
“Congratulations.”
Silence hangs in the air for a moment. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah,” I say out of reflex. “Fine. I’ve just been busy trying to get this done, and with the gala next week things are kind of crazy.”
“Yeah,” he says, though it sounds like he doesn’t quite believe me. There’s another not-quite-comfortable silence before he speaks again. “Will you go out with me tomorrow night?”
“What do you mean?” I glance at him.
He smiles. “It’s not a trick question. I want to take you to a nice dinner, because you’re my girlfriend and I want to spend time with you.”
Even with all the questions and panic swirling in my brain, I miss him too. I want to spend time with him, even though I know that doing that means facing everything. “Yeah,” I say. “I can do that.”
“I’ll text you where to meet.” The fact that he doesn’t reach to touch me tells me that he knows I’m freaking out. Because even before I said yes to dating him again he touched me. And I crave his touch the way I crave breathing. Quickly, I turn away to hide the sudden tears of frustration and confusion that rise to my eyes.
“You sure you’re okay, Nicola?” he says by the door.
“I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
I can’t ignore the sadness in his tone because it’s the sadness that’s echoing inside me right now. Betrayal. That’s what this feels like. The fact that he had a whole life before me. Likely still does. It feels like betrayal even though I don’t have a right to think that way. I don’t have a claim on his life before me.
If I keep thinking about it I actually will start crying and I can’t afford to. Instead, I pull out my test kit and start messing with flavors. Now that orange basil is almost done, I need to start on a new one. Always keep moving. Never let it land. I can make it another day without answers. Maybe.
The text I get from Tristan asks me to dress up a little and meet him at a park that’s in the middle of Leighton City near the river that flows lazily through town. I do.
I do my hair and make-up, and put on a short little black dress that I feel pretty in. Since I have no idea what’s going to happen tonight, I want some kind of armor. And knowing that I look good is armor for me.
Thankfully when I leave, my parents are occupied. My dad is suspicious enough about me and Tristan, and I don’t want to be interrogated before this date. Especially with everything that’s going to be on the table.
It’s a pretty warm day for February, which I’m glad about. I’m not really sure why we’re meeting in a park in the middle of winter but I’m hoping that his plan is to move inside soon. It’s warm, but it’s not that warm.
I can see him when I pull up next to the park, and the breath leaves my chest. Tristan is wearing a suit, and sitting beneath a tree in light shimmers of swirling snow in the winter breeze.
He’s beautiful, and every part of me aches. Please, I beg the universe. Please let there be a misunderstanding. I don’t want to lose him.
I park the car and take a deep breath. I can do this. I can ask him about what happened and I can survive whatever the answer is. After all, I survived the four years without him before. I can do it again.
My heart breaks a little at the thought.
The look on Tristan’s face as I approach him is one of awe. He’s looking at me the way I’ve always dreamed of him looking at me, even if I am bundled up in a winter coat.
He leans forward and catches me by the waist, kissing me softly. And against my better judgement I kiss him back. As if my body would have given me any kind of choice in the matter.
Taking a step back, he looks me up and down. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you.”
The side of his mouth tips up into a smile. “Wondering why we’re standing in the cold?”
I laugh in spite of myself. “Honestly, yeah.”
“Well, I wanted this to be special even though it’s not summertime, so I thought of where I would do it if I were warmer, and I’ve always loved this place. It’s beautiful, even in the winter.”
It’s true. There’s ice floating down the river and in the fading daylight the entire park seems to sparkle since it’s covered with snow. I see Tristan move out of the corner of my eye and I swear for a minute that my heart stops beating. That I’ve died.
Tristan is on one knee in front of me, looking up at me with all the love I could ever want. Oh no.
“Nicola, I know that this is fast. I tried to convince myself to wait. That we needed to experience life just dating for a while before we jumped into anything deeper. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was bullshit. We’ve both spent so much time waiting for each other, I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. I told you that I wanted to marry you, and I do. I swear to you that I will never walk away again.
“I want to wake up with you every morning and know that you’ll be with me. Nicola Thompson, will you marry me?”
He’s holding out a ring that sparkles in the twilight. Twisting diamonds and silver—a ring that looks like it was pulled from my imagination and forged just for me. Maybe it was.
I think my jaw actually drops open in shock. This is actually happening. Now? Tonight? Oh my god.
My first reaction is absolute elation, but then my heart comes crashing down like a meteor. How can I say yes when there’s so much that I don’t know?
I thought that I’d known the worst pain in my life when Tristan disappeared and I knew that it was because of me. But it’s nothing compared to the pain that’s in my chest, because my heart has shattered. It’s lying on the ground in a million pieces because of the word on my lips. “No.”
I see the same pain hit him when he registers my answer. “No.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He hasn’t stood up, and right now I’m not even sure if he can. “Why?”
Tears flood my eyes and I have to look away. I just shake my head—I can’t do this. Quickly, I turn and move toward my car, but he catches me. “Wait, Nicola please. I need to know why. What happened? What changed? Just four days ago you told me that you loved me.”
“I do love you,” I whisper, trying to keep my emotions in check and failing completely.
“Then why?”
I can’t look at him when I say this. “Jill had an idea for the gala. A bachelor’s auction for charity and she wanted to use you. But she mentioned that it might not be a good idea—that it wouldn’t look good. She didn’t clarify, just said she had seen some old headlines.”
Tristan closes his eyes and his shoulders slump, but he doesn’t speak and now I feel like I can’t stop. “So I googled you. And...I don’t understand how there could be so much that I didn’t know about you. That you had a wife and a kid, that you were arrested. I’ve known you my whole life and now I feel this stupid kind of betrayal because I thought that I knew you and I feel like I don’t and as much as I love you I can’t marry you when I don’t have answers.” Tears are streaming down my face and my chest aches like I’ve been punched. Tristan reaches for me and then lets his hands drop.
I see the change of heart on his face again as he reaches for me, folding me against his chest and I don’t know why I let him do it, but I do. I hate how much relie
f this brings, even when I’m heartbroken and furious. His voice is rough with emotion. “Please let me explain. Please.”
I can only nod.
“There’s one thing that I don’t usually talk about, and I’m guessing that this is something you don’t know about me either. I was named after my father. Technically I am Tristan Swallows the second.”
I go still. “What?”
“My father and I have the same name, and it’s been a blessing and a curse. I probably should have changed it a long time ago, but in spite of everything, it’s the only thing I have left of him.”
“What does this—”
“I swear to you that it will make sense,” he says into my hair. “But it will take a moment.” There’s a long moment and I fell his chest expand with breath.
“It happened right after college. It’s been twisted by the media now. But my father left my mother. He left her for a girl that had just turned eighteen. In fact, though I wasn’t aware at the time, I found out later that he left right before midnight so that he could be with her—and fuck her—the minute she turned eighteen.”
The reality of what he’s saying is sinking in, and there’s sweet relief along with horror.
“She was a senator’s daughter, and the scandal tore everything apart. My mom sold her house and I moved with her to Leighton City to get away from the media. My father was arrested for statutory rape, but it couldn’t be proven so they had to drop the charges. But the public doesn’t change their minds that easily.
“The girl’s father kept them apart, even after they got married and tried over and over to be together. And after a few years of being hounded by the press, separated from his new child, he killed himself.”
I don’t dare move an inch. I barely dare to breathe. Tristan seems like he’s in a trance, and I think he needs to finish telling me this as much as I need to hear it. Like an exorcism.
“It destroyed everything. My mother never really recovered from losing him, and the media never stopped trying to do stories about us. It took years. Even now there are people who ask about it. Which is my fault since I kept his name.