“Because you wore me out.” I can’t very well tell her I’m comparing her to Nat and she’s coming out ahead. Why am I even doing that? How fucked up am I?
“I wore you out. Right. You’re a wild man.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“The multiple orgasms would say otherwise.”
I love the way she’s always touching and stroking me, as if she can’t help but offer comfort. That’s so much a part of who she is, and I knew that about her before we ever slept together. She’s a wonderfully demonstrative friend, always hugging, touching, squeezing the people she loves. I’m thankful tonight to be one of them.
“We were supposed to talk about what’s going on here,” she reminds me.
“Were we?”
“I believe so. I’m up for it if you want to.”
I’m so drained by the sex and the grief and the tidal wave of emotions that’s come with all of it that I’m not sure I have it in me. Only because three precious kids are involved do I force myself to rally, lifting off her and going in search of a towel to clean up.
I bring it back to her.
“Thanks.” She removes the rest of her clothes and gets under the covers, patting the bed next to her to invite me to join her.
Here again is another opportunity to tell her I need to go, but the need for more of her takes precedence over escaping.
I get in next to her.
She curls up to me, her hand on my chest, her leg over mine.
Iris is a world-class snuggler. “Talk to me about how you’re feeling.”
“I’m conflicted.”
“About what?”
“About this.” I squeeze her shoulder. Her skin is so soft, it’s like silk, and I can’t stop touching her.
“Why?”
Here it is. The moment of truth I’ve tried to avoid for days now. But Iris deserves to know what she’s dealing with, so I find the words I need to tell her. “When Nat and the girls died, I made a promise to myself that I’d never again care so much about someone that I’d be devastated to lose them the way I was after they died.”
“Oh, Gage… That’s an awfully difficult promise to keep.”
“So I’m discovering. I was doing a pretty good job of it until a certain someone crawled naked into my bed.”
“I’d say I was sorry about that, but I’m really not.”
I laugh at that. “You’re an evil vixen.”
“Sticks and stones.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything you want.”
“How long had you wanted to crawl into my bed?”
“Like, you want a time frame?”
“Yes, please.”