Page 45 of House of Desire

“Loyalty and reliability are the most important things to me. I want to know I can count on you and for you to know you can count on me. No matter what it is, if you need me, I’ll be there and I would want that from a partner.

“People matter to me, as you said. I believe everyone should be able to live the life they love, so long as it doesn’t cause physical or emotional harm to someone else, whatever that may be. My only deal breaker is someone who runs away at any sign of tension.” I say the last staring into Anya’s beautiful eyes and I can see the understanding in their depths.

“Great. Anastasia?”

“I agree, completely, on letting people live the life they want. A deal breaker for me is someone that’s a yeller or lets their anger out in an aggressive way. As far as the traits most important to me? I need someone willing to share themselves with me. Their thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams. I want to feel like nothing is off limits for us to talk about and for them to know they can ask me anything.

“I think, maybe, the reason I stopped looking for a partner, is that…” She pauses, looking up at the ceiling as she breathes in deep, but I hear the wobble in the sound and see tears gathering in her eyes.

“Anya, you don’t have to say—” I start, not wanting to see her in pain.

“No, I want to tell you.” She clears her throat as she gets her emotions under control and I reach out to take her hand, and wait. I would wait however long she needed and not begrudge her a moment of the time. “Freshman year of college, I had a boyfriend who was a yeller. He would yell and rage anytime he was angry, and I was convinced one day he was going to hit me. But any time I would try to sit him down and end it, he would tell me how he couldn’t live without me and if I left, he’d take his life.

“It took a long time to accept I couldn’t stay and try to save him from himself. When I left, he didn’t follow through with his threat, thankfully, but after, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who would use my love for them against me. He effectively trapped me and I can’t do that again. And I sure can’t be with someone who yells at me. I want someone who can communicate.”

Her use of the word trapped worms its way inside me, making me hear Brittany’s voice for a moment as my heart breaks into a thousand shards at Anya’s pain. The situations are completely different and yet, the outcome was the same.

I lift the hand I still hold and press a kiss to the back of it.

“Very nice,” Dr. Jones says while Anya and I maintain eye contact. “How are we doing? Do we need to take a moment?”

“Whatever you need,” I tell Anya.

“I’m good. Let’s keep going,” Anya says.

“The next exercise is going to encourage being grounded in the moment with the person. One of you will be blindfolded while the other will have options of various different items they can use on the other to play on one of the other senses. The blindfolded person is going to communicate what they are feeling. Which of you would like to be blindfolded first?”

“I will,” I say.

She nods and hands me the black silk sleep mask I put on. Shuffling sounds echo around the room as Dr. Jones presents the various options to Anya.

She giggles at one and the sound brings a small smile to my face after everything she shared.

A light touch runs up my forearm, making me jump from the suddenness.

“Whoops, sorry. Did I scare you?” she asks, nervousness in her voice.

“No, it just startled me. Is that a feather?”

“You got it. I figured I’d start easy.”

“That’s nice of you,” I smile. Part of me wants to rip this blindfold off so I can see her, but I’m too invested to see what she chooses next to end the game.

“Parker, what does the sensation make you think of or feel?” Dr. Jones prompts.

“Um, I don’t know, really,” I admit, almost sheepishly.

“That’s okay. Try to focus on how you feel in your body on this next one.”

Anya moves around more and suddenly there’s a smell wafting directly beneath my nose. Following Dr. Jones’s instruction, I pay attention to how I feel. Comfort and love swaddle me and I smile at the memory the smell conjures.

“That smells like my mom’s famous pumpkin loaf,” I tell her. “It makes me think of when I’d fall asleep on the couch after Thanksgiving lunch, the adults in the room talking around me.”

“Famous, huh?” Anya teases. “Do you think she’ll share the recipe? I haven’t found one I’m in love with yet and seasonal treats are always a big draw.”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

“Deal,” she says, and I feel her shift away from me, presumably to grab something else.

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