“I’m only explaining this to you because you might be here for a while and see it for yourself. Jenny seems to like you, and if she does, then the others will as well. I don’t want you thinking ill thoughts toward any of them.” He pauses. “I’m a man who likes… variety. I don’t settle for one certain type, because I like many different ones. I like options and I like change.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, disgust lacing my voice. “You make it sound like your speaking about a tie or a watch.”
His eyes harden and the muscle in his jaw jumps. “And you sound like a judgmental bitch who has no fucking clue of the situation she’s casting judgement on.”
I narrow my eyes but clamp my mouth shut. He continues, his voice severe and cold.
“Jenny and Jamie are two of the four women I take as my lovers. Gillian and Layla are the other two. They aren’t just lovers though, they’re my companions. I care for them physically and emotionally, just as they do me. It’s an arrangement we all enjoy. I spend time with them equally and separately, and I treat them fairly.”
“Fairly?” I almost laugh, because I’m so stunned he would think what he’s doing is fair to any of the women. “How can what you’re doing be fair? You leave these women to be with another, as if they alone aren’t good enough for you.”
“They’re more than good enough,” he barks. “They’re better than me. It’s not them who’s lacking, it’s me. I would never be good enough for them.”
His answer shocks me, and all I can do is stare at him for several long seconds before I get my bearings back.
“And are they allowed to take other lovers? Do you love them?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and sets one ankle over the other. “Yes. They can take other lovers if they choose, but only if it doesn’t interfere with our arrangement. They choose not to. And yes, I love each of them, but I’m not in love with them. Just like they aren’t in love with me.”
“How do you know they aren’t?” I snark and shove my plate away. I’ve only eaten a few bites, but suddenly I’m no longer hungry.
“Because they know it would be pointless. I don’t do love, and I have no desire to give it a try.”
I laugh at that, but it’s humorless. He was right a moment ago. I have no right to cast judgement on these people. Just like my opinion on the circumstances shouldn’t really matter to them. I should keep my mouth shut, but I just can’t. I know what it feels like to love someone, hoping and praying they return the feelings, only for them to squash your heart. My college boyfriend hooked me line and sinker before throwing me back in the pond after I told him I loved him. He told me I was just a good time, that he was too young for anything serious. I knew he was a player when we got together, but my stupid heart thought I could change him.
“Love doesn’t work that way. You can’t just turn the emotion off. It grows whether you want it to or not.”
He sighs and rubs his thumb across the crease between his eyes. After a moment, he settles his palms on the counter behind him.
“There’s more shit to the situation than I’m willing to tell you. It’s information you don’t deserve to know. I may not be in love with them, but what I feel is the closest thing that I’ll ever get to that emotion. Those women mean the world to me. I’d do anything for them. They know they’ll never get more from me than what I’ve already given them. They’re consenting adults and make their own decisions. If at any time, they need more, they can walk away. I’d never hold them back from a future they want. If that’s a husband and kids, I’ll be the first to pay for the wedding.”
As he finishes his spiel, I almost feel sorry for him. To live a life so closed off from the prospect of love, must be a sad life. I may have been hurt in the past, but that doesn’t mean I believe there isn’t someone out there waiting for me. That I’ll never find that special person I was meant to love until the day that I die. I firmly believe everyone has that certain person. You just have to open yourself up to the idea of it and grab a hold of it when it’s presented to you.
I don’t get a chance to reply to Judge, not that I could formulate a response anyway. As much as I still don’t agree with his practices, I kind of understand it better. And again, he was right. Jenny and the others are adults, and as long as he’s been completely truthful with them on where he stands, they have every right to make their own decisions. Who am I to agree or disagree? I’m just someone passing through town. I mean nothing to these people.
Light footsteps tap on the floor and we both look over to see Jenny carrying her empty plate into the kitchen. She still looks half asleep with her hair messily pulled back in a low ponytail and her eyes red. Yesterday was stressful on her as well. I’m sure it’s not often she finds a butchered animal on her back porch.
Sadness creeps back in at remembering Sampson and the pain he must have went through. Diego is a bastard, and I hope like hell he pays dearly.
Judge meets Jenny before she can make it to the sink and takes the plate from her. After setting it down, he wraps his arms around her waist, tugging her closer, then leans down and kisses her. I watch him closely. He looks down at her tenderly, his expression softer than I’ve seen it the whole time we talked. He really does care about her. There’s no mistaking that.
“Morning,” he says low. “Sleep well?”
She yawns, throwing her hand over her mouth to cover it, and nods. “Yes. Thank you for staying.”
He tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be here until all this is over. I’ve already let the other women know.”
Jenny’s eyes slide to mine, and she gives me a soft smile. “Hey.”
“Good morning.”
She looks back to Judge. “You should be at work already,” she remarks.
“I’m working from home for a while. Trouble and I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to be left alone until this Diego is caught and dealt with. I’ll be in my office for the next few hours, but my door will be open should either of you need anything.”
She nods and leans up on her toes to kiss Judge. I decide to give them a bit of privacy and get up from my stool, slipping my phone in my pocket.
“I’ve got a phone call to make,” I mumble, unsure if they’ll even hear me.