by HELEN HARDT
I can’t wait to tell Braden.
I want to tell him that I respect his hard limit. That I respect his wishes and desires. That I respect him so much.
And I do.
Even more? I love him so much.
“Amazing,” Tessa says over our drinks this evening after I relay the whole story. “So much was happening to you, and I didn’t know about it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, too, with the whole Garrett thing.”
She takes a sip of her blue margarita. “I guess we both fucked up.”
I nod. “I guess we did, though I think I fucked up more.”
She bursts into laughter. “Skye, you slay me. You even want control over this.”
I join in her giggles because she’s right. “I give. We’re both guilty.”
“And degree of guilt doesn’t matter. Say it with me, Skye.”
“Degree of guilt doesn’t matter,” I echo.
“Say it like you mean it,” she throws back at me.
“We’re both guilty. Degree of guilt doesn’t matter. We’ll both do better.”
“There you go. Best friends forever.” She finishes her drink. “You want to order some food?”
“Sure.” I signal to our server.
We place a quick order for some street tacos and another margarita for Tessa. I’m still working on my bourbon.
“Selfie time!” I rise and move to the other side of the table with my phone.
“Do I look okay?” Tessa asks.
“Are you kidding? You always look gorgeous.” I snap a few photos and let Tessa choose which one to post. I do some quick edits and then post.
Nothing better than drinks with the BFF! @tessa_logan_350 #bffsforever #margaritaville #menwhoneedsthem? #tessaandskye
And I realize, even with Braden and me not right yet, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.
…
I’ve been using the Susie skincare line for a little over a week now, so it’s time to compare my before post to how I look now.
Hmm. Not bad at all. I don’t have acne or anything, but my complexion is noticeably more even-toned.
Before and after one week of Susie skincare. My skin is more even-toned and it feels great! #sponsored. #susiegirl #anyonecanbeasusiegirl #susieglow
My last post about the tinted moisture earned me a thumbs up text from Eugenie. The copy for this one isn’t as inspired, but I want my audience to focus on the photos. I’ll post again in another week.
Today is Saturday. The day I was supposed to return from Kansas.
The day Braden is due to return from New York.
We’ve spoken on the phone every day, just checking in. Yesterday, though, I let him know I need to talk to him about something important.
I’m going to answer his question.
Where will it lead?
I don’t know. What I do know is that Braden is in love with me and I’m in love with him.
What I also know is that Braden himself has something he’s hiding, something he keeps buried inside him. I’ve made the decision not to force it out of him. Not like I’d be successful anyway.
Tonight, I’ll share a part of myself with him that I’ve only just discovered.
I hope it inspires him to share something more with me.
If it doesn’t?
That’s okay. I still love him, and I’ll give him all the time he needs. If he needs to be without me, I’ll accept that.
I hope he decides to come back to me, though.
I miss him so desperately.
He’s due at my place by seven. I’m going to cook him dinner. My shrimp étouffée that was ruined, spurring our second trip to New York.
The beginning of the end.
Tonight, though? Tonight will be the beginning of the beginning.
I’ll will it to be.
I make a quick trip to the liquor store to pick up a Beaujolais-Villages, posting a selfie along the way.
Posting is beginning to become second nature to me. To be a success, I must be a friend to my audience, not just an advertiser. I need to show them that I’m human. I’m the same as they are. Skye Manning has drinks with her BFF. Skye Manning goes to yoga class. Skye Manning shops for étouffée ingredients and the perfect wine accompaniment.
It’s actually pretty fun.
Plus, I’m using my talents, arranging my ingredients just so. Finding the perfect spot in the grocery store where the lighting will set off the colors so they’re the most vibrant.
I whip up the étouffée and let it simmer. I’ve already made my chocolate mousse for Braden, so I decide on another French favorite to complement the meal—crème brûlée. The custard part is tricky. It needs to be thick and creamy but not too much so, or it becomes more like flan.
After everything’s done except the burnt sugar coating on the crème brûlée—which has to be done with a small blow torch right before we eat it—I check my watch. Six thirty. Time enough to shower before Braden arrives.
I turn and—
Someone knocks on the door. I wipe my hands on the apron I’m wearing. It can’t be Braden. He’s never early.
I look in the peephole.
Shit! It is Braden. A half hour early. I open the door slowly, knowing I’m a fright.
“Skye,” he says.
“You’re early.”
“I know.”
“Well, come on in. I was just going to hop in the shower.”
“That’s a great idea,” he says. “I’ll join you.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
“I’ve been in meetings nearly twenty-four-seven since I left Kansas,” he says. “I need a shower, too.”
“Be my guest, then.” I gesture him toward the bathroom.
“Oh, no. You can’t dangle the idea of a shower with you in front of me and then take it away.”
“I didn’t dangle anything, Braden. You know that as well as I do. We’re not together right now, despite—”
“Fuck it all, Skye. I don’t care.” He grabs me and slams his mouth onto mine.
The kiss is more than pent-up passion. It’s primal, like a mark. Like when he bit the top of my breast that time.
He’s missed me. He’s missed me every bit as much as I’ve missed him.
He can’t stay away from me any more than I can stay away from him. Still, tonight was supposed to be special. I was going to share something with him. I was going to answer his question.
Granted, I want to answer it after a shower so I look good.
But now will have to do.
I break the kiss and push him away.
He cocks his head. Is he going to say something? He looks inquisitive.
But he remains silent.
“You’re the one who ended things,” I tell him. “Then you go to my parents’ home without telling me. Then you tell me you want to have vanilla sex.”
“All true statements,” he says.
“But you can’t be with me, you say. Not until I can answer the question you asked me after the club.”
“That’s true.”
“So why are you kissing me? Why are you trying to get into the shower with me? Because we both know what will happen in the shower.” I’m getting wet just thinking about it.
He stalks toward me and pushes me against the wall, pinning me, his hands gripping my shoulders. “Why am I kissing you? Don’t you know by now?”
“N-No. I mean, yeah. You love me. You desire me.”
He shakes his head. “It goes so far beyond that, Skye. You know that, because you feel it, too.”
I nod, shivering. Yes, I know it. And yes, I feel it.
“You’ve become a drug to me, and damn it, I
can’t leave you alone, no matter how much I know I should.”
“Y-You don’t have to leave me alone, Braden.”
“Don’t I?”
“No. Because I have an answer. Tonight I’ll answer your question.”
He crushes his lips to mine once more. My apron is a grimy mess, and I know I’m getting God knows what all over his expensive suit. But if he doesn’t care, why should I?
Our tongues tangle and duel. The kiss stays primal, as if we’re two animals getting ready to mate.
For that’s what our desire is—animalistic. It has been from the beginning. We’re drawn to each other as if the universe has forced us together for some divine purpose.
And perhaps it has.
Perhaps I needed to figure some things out about myself to live a happier life.
Perhaps Braden needs to do the same thing.
Our love came after the primal instinct to come together, as if our hearts followed our souls.
The best kind of love.
We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, until the savory scent of the shrimp étouffée wafts to me. I break my mouth away from his and inhale a deep breath.
“I have to check dinner. I can’t let it get ruined again.”
He trails one finger down my cheek. “Okay. We’ll have the shower after dinner.”
“After we talk,” I say.
He nods. “After we talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Unlike my first attempt, this meal for Braden turns out perfectly. The shrimp étouffée is spicy and delicious, and the Beaujolais-Villages I picked complements it very well. We don’t talk a lot at dinner. Just a little about his trip and about the posts I’ve done this week. He seems pleased with my progress as an influencer.
“I’ve been using the skincare line for a week now,” I tell him. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re as beautiful as you always were.”
“Seriously. My skin tone is a little more even, don’t you think?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Are you kidding me? I look better, and you don’t even notice?”
He chuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, beauty routines aren’t for men, Skye. They’re for women.”
“I just mean—”
“You mean you want me to tell you that you look better. What if I did? The first thing you’d say then is, ‘You mean you didn’t like how I looked before?’”
I scoff. “Maybe some women. I wouldn’t.”
He shakes his head. “You aren’t like any other woman I’ve ever met, so maybe you wouldn’t. But I’m telling you the truth when I say I don’t see a difference. You were beautiful a week ago, and you’re beautiful now.”
My cheeks warm. I’m not beautiful like Tessa, but in Braden’s eyes, I am. That’s all that matters.
Already I see I’ve come a long way in a short time.
“Ready for dessert?” I ask.
“Let’s talk first,” he says.
My heart beats hard. Here it is. The time of reckoning. I’m going to open up to Braden, and I have to accept that he may not be ready to do the same thing.
That’s okay.
It has to be.
Plus, maybe he’ll surprise me.
“All right,” I say. “You want any coffee?”
“I think just a little more wine.” He fills his goblet halfway and then lifts his eyebrows at me.
“No thanks.” I smile. “You want to sit on the couch? It’s more comfortable.”
“Sure.” He picks up his wineglass and walks to the living room.
I follow him, sit down, and pat the seat next to me.
He sits.
“You asked me a question the last time we were in New York together. A question I couldn’t answer then.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t think I was brave enough to find the answer.”
“That’s not exactly what I said. I said I was going to have my say, and then you could have yours, if you were brave enough.”
“All right. The exact words don’t really matter, because I’ve realized it’s not the answer that’s important in the long run.”
“Oh?”
“No, it’s the question. You see, Braden, I asked myself the question. I asked why the choking was so important to me, and I have an answer, but it’s not even the answer that’s important.”
“What do you mean?”
“Figuring these things out isn’t black-and-white. I know you like to think of things that way. You’re a lot like Tessa in that way.”
He chuckles. “Am I?”
“Don’t laugh at me.” I give him a friendly swat on the upper arm. “I’m serious. She’s an accountant. A mathematician. There’s always a right and wrong with her. You’re the same way.”
“I’ll admit to being analytical, yes.”
“I’m an artist. Black and white only exist to me as opposite ends of a spectrum. There’s so many colors in between. And then in between the in-between.”
“Am I in for a philosophy lesson?”
“I’m just trying to explain that yes, I have an answer to your question, but I’m not going to stop asking the question. It’s a journey. And while the answers themselves are important, they are only points along the way of the journey. To me, the answer isn’t as important as the question. And the question you asked me was why the neck binding was so important to me. I have an answer to that question, but before I got there, I had to ask another question.”
“You’re talking in circles, Skye.”
“I’m not, actually. You’re just refusing to see the shades and layers between black and white.”
“That’s not true. I wouldn’t be much of a businessman if I didn’t recognize that there aren’t any absolutes.”
“There you go, then. There is no one absolute answer to your question. I have an answer today—and that answer makes sense today—but I feel there’s more to learn about myself, and that might change the answer later.”
“Fair enough. What’s your answer today?”
“I was punishing myself.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Once I figured out that I saw the bondage as punishment, I knew right away why I wanted it. It’s because I feel like a fraud. The only reason anyone cares what I think is because I’m your girlfriend. Things went down and down after that. I lost my friendship with Tessa. I did a half-assed post for Susanne because I didn’t think I was any better than that. And then, that night in New York, you left me, too.”
“But that was after—”
“I know. I know. I’m getting to that.”
“Okay,” he says. “Go on.”
“So I talked to my mother, and I talked to a therapist, and with their help, I figured something out.” I hold back tears as I pour out the story of the cornfield with the added memory of catching my mother in bed with Mario. About how my mother didn’t want any more children.
“I guess she agreed with you,” I tell him. “I was a challenge.”
“I hope you’re not blaming yourself for any of this.”
“I’m not anymore. But I was for a long time.”
“But you didn’t remember.”
“I didn’t, but somewhere inside me, my subconscious did. You see, I felt like a fraud, but that was only the top layer. The icing on the cake. The cake and filling were much more significant, and they were hiding in my subconscious. When Rosa asked me what I like about our lifestyle, I told her how much pleasure it gives me. But when she asked me why I desired the neck binding so much, even after you told me it was a hard limit, I had to really think how I felt at the time.”
“And how did you feel?”
“I wasn’t thinking of it as a turn-on. I was thinking of it as
a necessity. Then I had to figure out why it was a necessity.”
“And now?”
“It’s no longer a necessity. I can’t deny that I was enthralled by the concept. Part of me still is, but I can accept that it’s a hard limit for you. And I can accept that without knowing why.”
He pierces my gaze. “Can you? Really?”
I nod. “I understand your reticence. You know me well, but once a few things click into place, everything changes. I’m not telling you that my stubborn nature will be gone overnight.”
“You wouldn’t be you, otherwise.”
“Exactly. And you like a challenge.”
“I do.”
“Knowing myself better doesn’t change the essence of who I am,” I say. “It only changes my reaction. I was a difficult kid who was a lot for my mom to handle. I’m still that way, and she loves me despite all of it.”
“I love you, too, Skye.”
I smile. “I know. And I love you.”
“Are you sure you can give up the breath control?”
“Absolutely. I can do it because it’s no longer necessary. Admittedly, I’m intrigued by it, but I love you more than I need it.”
He fingers my hair. “I’m very glad to hear that.”
Can you tell me why it’s a hard limit for you?
The words are lodged in the back of my throat. My curiosity, my need to know…all of it is trapped there with the words I want to say.
But I keep them there.
I will not nag him for information. Not anymore. I respect him too much to do that.
But there is something else I need to get off my chest.
“Braden…”
“Hmm?” He kisses my forehead and sniffs my hair. “Love that raspberry shampoo.”
My skin tingles, and the tickle between my legs intensifies.
No. Have to talk first.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“What?” He stiffens slightly.
“Relax. It’s nothing bad, but I want complete honesty.” At least on my end, though I keep that last part to myself.
“All right.”
“Addie’s sister called me.”
“Apple? Why?”