"And that was enough for you?"
"Yes." I thought so. I loved her. And I loved making her come.
So what if she didn't appreciate a rough touch?
I didn't appreciate ballet.
We both made compromises.
That's what grown-ups do.
It was enough. I told myself it was enough. I believed it.
Now—
I don't know. Maybe something was missing.
Maybe that's why she left.
"I missed it," I say. "But I was satisfied." The words don't feel true, but that's ridiculous.
I never considered leaving her.
I wasn't going to be that man. The one who traded his wife for a newer, younger, more adventurous model every ten years.
I was committed.
And that mattered more than anything.
Being there. Living up to the promises I made her.
Being what she needed.
Indigo's voice is soft. "And since Rory… have you?"
"No."
"What if I said I wasn't interested?"
"Are you going to lie to me?"
Her cheeks flush. "Hypothetically."
"You wouldn't."
"But what if I did? What if we stayed married forever and I wouldn't fuck you?"
"What are you asking?"
"Well…" She presses her lips together. "Would there be someone else?"
"No. Never."
Her eyes meet mine. "I believe you. You would deny that part of yourself. Even if it killed you."
"I have a hand."
A laugh spills from her lips. "Yes. I've experienced it." She takes a long sip. "I haven't agreed to fuck you, you know."
"Yes, you have."
"I haven't agreed to obey."
"You know what happens when I have to repeat myself."
"I… uh…" She pushes past her blush. "Were you ever tempted? With Rory?"
I shake my head.
"Even though she didn't fill your needs?"
Fuck, how does she state it so plainly?
I can barely admit the idea to myself. And she says it like it's the weather. Like it's obvious to anyone with half a brain.
"I guess… I don't know what that's like. I've never been in love. You were the closest I came," she says. "And that was the most I came. With you."
"You need it rough?"
"I don't know. I haven't trusted anyone else enough to really try."
"But you've enjoyed fucking other men?"
"Will you get jealous if I say yes?"
"Yes."
"It was better with you. If that's what you're asking." Defiance fills her expression. "It was always better with you. But you already knew that."
When we were together three years ago, sure.
But I don't know what she's done.
Who she's fucked.
How hard she's come.
"Did you enjoy it?" I ask.
"Yes," she says. "But not as much as I enjoyed you fucking me."
My veins buzz. She's daring me.
She's pushing every one of my buttons.
"These other guys?" I ask. "What did you want from them?"
"Which ones?"
Fuck. "The last one?"
"An ex… it was one time. Rushed. Not satisfying."
"Before that?"
"I dated a guy for a while. Noah."
"What was he like?"
"Sweet. Funny. Tall."
"Tall?"
She laughs. "Yes."
"He must have been a fascinating man. If tall is his third descriptor."
"You're still jealous." She smiles. "I kind of like it."
I'm too fucking jealous. I want to kill him.
Because he's touched her.
Because he groaned her name.
Because he was capable of loving her.
She smiles. "I should milk this for all it's worth. Since I only have the one ex-boyfriend."
"And these other guys."
She nods. "I didn't think you'd be jealous."
Me either. But here we are.
"I really shouldn't tell you the truth," she says. "But I will. Because… that will make this easier. If we're honest when we're alone."
It might. Or the truth might hurt her. "Is that a promise?"
"What would it be? I'll never lie to you? That seems unreasonable."
It does.
"I'll try. To be honest. And you try. The best you can."
"Even if it hurts?"
Her gaze goes to the table for a moment. She's stays quiet as she considers it. Then she nods. "If it matters."
"If it matters." I hold out my hand.
She shakes. "The boyfriend… it was short. He was sweet. Too sweet. When I asked him to go harder, rougher—he couldn't do it. And that was the end."
"You broke up right there?" The image flits through my head immediately.
Indigo in her apartment, in a tiny twin bed, in black lingerie. Some clean-cut All-American guy kissing her as he slips his hand between her legs.
Jumping backward as she asks him to spank her or slap her or tie her up. Dressing. Leaving.
"No," she says. "But we didn't recover. He looked at me differently."
"Like there was something wrong with you?"
She nods. "Is that what it was like? With Rory?"
No. It was worse. The fear in her voice. The disgust in her eyes. Like I was a monster. "It scared her."
"Right. You said that." She taps her glass. "These are going to my head."
"You should eat something."
"We already ordered."
I don't care. I'm overwhelmed with the urge to take care of her. Wrap my arms around her. Carry her into my bed. Keep her safe.
She presses on. "You could have found someone who shared your interests. A professional, even."
"I invited you here, didn't I?"
Her eyes brighten. "Is that it? Why you want me?"