Page 87 of Reckless Vow

I need to lighten the mood, because everything that happened tonight is wonderfully liberating and special.

But also too intense, and I don’t know where this level of intimacy leaves us. Or leads us.

It’s all too much to deal with, so let’s not.

“Mind-blowing?” He grins.

“And now I know why you have such a huge apartment.” I punch his shoulder. “To fit your ego.” I bite him gently.

He swats at me and smirks. “Mind-blowing.”

“Just a job for you,” I deadpan.

“Pleasing others is the sexiest thing. It turns me on. You turn me on. Fuck, Brook, you’re the sexiest thing in the world.”

Oh, what those words do to me. They grip at all my insecurities and traumas and turn them into dust.

It’s dizzying. It’s exhilarating. And yet, the primary emotion cruising through my veins is fear.

It’s a familiar feeling, always lingering in the back of my mind. That’s why I party, I go out, I surround myself with people and boyfriends—however unsatisfactory. To tune it all out.

But it has never been this loud when I’m with someone. It has a new cause, as if it replaced my former source of unrest.

What are we doing? How much is it going to hurt once we… no longer are? Because he has no reason to stick around.

Pleasing others is the sexiest thing.

Is that the reason he married me, cut his hair, got me the ring? It turns him on?

What’s wrong with me? I’m lying here with the god of sex, blissfully satisfied, and my mind is sabotaging everything.

We used to be so close, soul mates, really. And now we’re close physically and it should feel great, but it feels like I have more to lose. Which makes no sense.

“Maybe I was searching for something… some special connection. Like if I give it my all, selflessly, I might feel…”

He plays with my hair, looking at me, but I’m not sure what he sees. Or contemplates. A hesitant smile lingers on his face, but there are clouds shading it.

“Feel what?” I croak, my mouth dry.

The soft silky sheet feels cold beneath me. The air is chilled as goosebumps prickle my skin in the stillness of the eyeblink.

It takes a lifetime before he answers. “Less. More. Something.”

My heart hammers. He must see it pulsing in my veins, that’s how relentless the beat is. “Did you find it?”

He said he was searching. Was. And while his words could have any meaning in the world, somewhere deep down I know. I know that I know that I know.

Like me, with all my unsuccessful relationships, he was searching too. In a very different, and perhaps less destructive, way than me, but we both were looking for that connection.

The one so familiar. The one we used to have.

“I’m sorry I left you here alone.” It’s not the answer to my question, but it is at the same time.

The apology fills the air between us. Heavy and light. Redeeming and taxing. Welcomed but saddening.

Did he now find what he chased? With me? And it scared him, so he hid.

Or the connection didn’t live up to the memory of us. The illusion we both cultivated over the years. Well, I did.

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