Page 11 of The Question of Us
And whose fault is that?
I scowled at the spreadsheet for another minute, then closed the file and pushed my chair back. If I didn’t find some focus, I’d never finish the job. My feet carried me to my bedroom, where I stared at the bed I hadn’t slept in more than a couple of nights in the previous three weeks. I sank onto Davis’s side of the mattress and ran a hand over his pillow.
“Hey there,” I whispered, lowering my head onto its downy softness. “Long time no see.” Davis had always loved his pricey linens and bedroom accoutrements, and while I grumbled about the cost, I secretly relished his insistence on treating ourselves. I should have told him that more often.
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, my hands rubbing small circles over the cover. “I’m not doing so great at the moment, as you probably know. I fucked up. I feel... stuck. Like I’m running in circles. And I’m hurting the one person who is bringing light into my world right now.”
Talking to Davis wasn’t something I did often. It was always a crapshoot, emotionally speaking. Even though I knew it was cathartic, it usually screwed me for the rest of the day. I waited for the tears, but only a bone-deep sadness drifted through my body to settle in my heart. A sigh broke my lips. Nothing stayed the same, not even grief. I thought of Mads and the warm feel of him in my arms, the impossible perfection of it, and I knew I wanted more. A lot more.
“I think you’d like him,” I whispered into the silence of the room. “He’s honest and funny, always says what he feels, no sugar coating anything. Blunt is the word he uses. Cute is the term I prefer. But he’s as stubborn as me and it drives me crazy.” I chuckled. “Yeah, I figured you’d love that part.”
As I lay in the quiet again, Mads’ words from the previous morning came back to me. I thought on them for a moment. “He also reminded me that he isn’t you. I’d told him that youhandledmy prickly personality by mostly ignoring my rudenessand using humour to snap me out of my control mode. You were remarkably immune to my jabs and my like it or lump it manner. But now I’m wondering if that was such a good thing.”
I pictured Davis folding his arms, one eyebrow cocked as he said,Go on, I’m listening.
All righty then.“I get no free passes with Mads, not like the ones you handed me way too often. It’s made me realise that I should’ve been better with you, and I’m sorry about that. I should’ve tried harder. You were too easy on me.”
I rolled onto my side and dragged a pillow into my open arms. “I still miss you so fucking much and I always will. I’ll always love you and what we had, so how can I hold on to that and move on with someone else at the same time? How can I still love you and begin to love him too?”
And there it was.
If I’d expected an answer, I’d have been disappointed. There wasn’t, and I wasn’t. I threw the pillow to the side and rolled off the bed, staring at the indentation in the mattress like I could somehow see his body in the dips and rolls. The memory of him still so strong in my head was beginning to slip on the outside.
I saw him less. Heard his voice in my head less. Even though I knew it was a natural part of the process, it still felt disloyal. I hated the wayourworld, the one with him in it, the one I’d thought would last until we both tapped out from old age was already beginning to blur around the edges. The threads were quietly unravelling and would continue to do that until the pattern was gone and a new one appeared in its place.
I knew it would happen.
I just thought I’d have more time.
With my fingers trailing along the furniture and walls, I left the bedroom and made my way into Davis’s study. I sat in his chair and took a long look around the small room. It was a nice space, warm and inviting, much like the man himself. Thewalls were loaded with overflowing bookshelves, his desk messy with notepads and reminders. A jam jar held his collection of psychedelic pencils, and across the room the expensive speaker I’d bought him one Christmas stared back at me, and wrapped around the base were his headphones, exactly as he’d left them that day.
I considered them for a long moment. I knew every band he loved, every song on his playlists. I knew the concerts he’d been to and the ones on his bucket list. I knew him to his soul, and I’d known I belonged there as well. I’d felt safe, understood, and for the first time, truly loved.
I’m not Davis.Mads’ words continued to haunt my brain. Like I needed the reminder, although maybe I had. I’d only ever been in one serious relationship—the man I’d married and intended to grow old with. I’d never had to adjust to anyone else. Never imagined loving anyone else.
Until now.
The truth of those words peeked cautiously around my heart, and for the first time, I let them. Let myself feel what they meant. What they could become. I could duck and dive all I liked, but there was no denying that love was where this thing between Mads and I was headed if I let it.
I crossed the room and lifted his headphones to my nose. The scent of Davis’s coconut shampoo was all but gone and I caught the sharp whiff of citrus instead. I stumbled back and almost dropped the headphones.But... how?It was a fragrance I knew well—Madigan’s body wash.What the fuck?
Don’t be an idiot, Davis’s voice boomed from nowhere into my brain.I’m dead. This isn’t guilt, Nick. This is you being your stubborn self. Remember when you almost walked away because I wanted to move forward with our relationship and you couldn’t see it working? You didn’t believe enough, and I had to believe for both of us until you caught up. Don’tmake that mistake again. Don’t be that frightened little boy screaming at the big wide world to try and scare it off.
I almost smiled before another voice chimed in, this one more recent.Grow up, Nick. I’m not going to chase you. You want me or you don’t, but don’t play games with me.
No prize for guessing the owner of that one.
Two voices.
Two very different men.
Two ways of loving me.
Was it really that easy?
No. It really fucking wasn’t.
What I’d lost. What I’d found. What I wanted. What I needed. What excited me. What terrified me. Two years of hope and despair. Months of grieving. A week of my whole world being turned on its head and then three weeks of hope and confusion.
