Page 47 of Avoiding Temptation
His eyes darken the moment he sees it, and he lifts his hand so he can wipe it away.
“Fuck, Quinn.” He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. His eyes say it all as he searches mine, I fear trying to find the same things that he’s feeling right now.
I’ve no idea if he finds what he’s looking for, but after a second or two, he drops his lips back to mine and kisses me until we find our simultaneous releases. It’s different to the previous ones he’s given me. It’s calmer, slower, but by no means any less earth-shattering.
“Come on, let’s shower.” He gets up and walks to the bathroom. My heart drops when I see the slight slump to his shoulders. Did I just disappoint him somehow?
He washes me thoroughly, but although he’s attentive, I still can’t help but feel like he’s suddenly holding back. I want to ask, I’m desperate to, but I’m also aware that asking him too many questions will probably come with consequences: him asking some of his own. The thought of trying to explain everything has my heart racing in panic.
* * *
“Have you been here before?”he asks when we step from the hotel hand-in-hand with bellies full of an incredible fried breakfast and fresh fruit.
“Yeah, I think I came here on a school trip years ago, but I hardly remember it. You?”
“No, never. I’m a Londoner through and through.”
“You’ve never left?”
“Of course. I had holidays and stuff as a kid, but they were always abroad.”
“That must have been nice,” I say, thinking that I’d have loved to get out of our little town and experience some of the world.
“Yes and no.”
“Oh?”
“Pass,” he says. His hand tightens in mine, and I feel him physically shut down. I hate it, but at the same time part of me feels glad that I’m not the only one holding back. I feel less guilty about hiding my past from my possible future.My future, is that what this is?
We have an incredible morning visiting all the sights—Shakespeare’s home and his wife’s childhood home, along with others that are connected to his life.
The history is incredible, and I find myself picturing what it must have been like for him back then, writing such epic literature in such a stunning place. I don’t have a creative bone in my body, but even I feel inspired being here.
We stop in a café for a light lunch before heading for the Church of the Holy Trinity. The building is out of this world. Its age, its history, everything about it just blows me away, and I’m not ashamed to admit that it drags a little emotion up into my throat as I stand and stare.
“Are you okay?” Joe whispers in my ear when he notices the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“Do you want to just sit for a bit?”
Nodding, I make my way over to the closest pew and slide along a little so he can sit beside me.
He’s silent, allowing me the time I need to deal with my thoughts. I stare ahead at the chancel, taking in the ornate carved wood and the huge stones that make up the building. Suddenly, without realising, words start tumbling from my mouth.
“I’m married.” Joe gasps beside me, but otherwise he does nothing other than to continue staring ahead and allow me to speak. “I was promised to him from as early as I can remember. I know that sounds incredibly old fashioned, but my parents were—are—really traditional. There was never any other option for me despite what I really wanted. I had no choice. I went along with the wedding, telling myself that I’d learn to like him, love him even, but it was never meant to be.
“I was terrified of disappointing my father. He…he has a terrible temper, and I could only imagine what my refusal would result in, so I toed the line, kept their secrets and swept their indiscretions under the carpet like I’d watched my mother do all my life. It was normal. It was my life. We lived in this little bubble, and the days just passed while I dreamt of other things.
“I knew from the get go that we weren’t a match made in heaven, but there was no way I could shame my parents and leave. But then…” I trail off, not wanting to go into details of the reason I couldn’t deal with it all anymore.
Joe blows out a long breath, and I find myself releasing the air I didn't know I was holding. I immediately feel lighter for confessing just a small part of the secret I’m forced to live with.
“My parents disowned me when I was fifteen, after they found out I was bi.” His words are flat, cold, and my heart aches for the little boy that’s clearly still so hurt by that.
“Arseholes,” I mutter, not meaning for the word to come out aloud.
“I couldn’t agree more. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that I was an awful teenager, but I didn’t mean to make their lives hard. Well…not in the beginning. I was just trying to figure out who I was and where I fit in the world. Then they discovered me and the boy next door at the bottom of our garden, and I became and even bigger threat to their perfect life. The only way to stop me ‘ruining everything’ was to get rid of me.”
