Page 87 of Until Tomorrow
“Turn,” Rhett ordered as he reached over me to grab the shower head.He also liked to order me around, and I was very much into that.My body slid against his as I rotated like he asked. “Hold still while I clean you up, spark plug.”
My body was covered in car grease and dirt from his hands—at least he’d avoided all the truly sensitive parts. It coated my skin, stuck in the pores. Even the water seemed to just roll right off.
“Sorry, I don’t have anything fancy for you,” he murmured as he lathered up a black loofah. “You’ll walk away smelling like orange soap and coconut, but it’ll get the job done.”
His calloused hands were gentle as he took his time washing me head to toe. Despite the small shower, he still found his way down onto his knees to make sure my legs were spotless like the rest of me. Only when he was satisfied with that did he move on to washing my hair.
He treated me with the utmost care as if I was precious and fragile. It was intimate—impossibly intimate in a way I couldn’t begin to describe. My chest tightened as he continued to dote on me. This kind of intimacy… the unspeakable connection building between us… it was soft.Warm and safe.
I couldn’t remember the last time I experienced something like this with Logan. Our marriage had become something of a routine. The same schedule every week of planned sex, dinners together from across the same table, conversations of work, Logan falling asleep in the bath every Sunday. The connection and intimacy hadn’t just dwindled—it was completely gone. The weeks since we got back together had been different but confusing.
My heart lodged in my throat, constricting with inexplicable emotions. Tears spilled over that I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to, so I shut my eyes and did my best to let the shower wash them away. Unfortunately, I didn’t hide them as well as I thought I did.
“Hey,” Rhett whispered. A finger hooked under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. The concern in his gaze barely masked his confusion. My lower lip trembled as he asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
When I tried to speak, nothing but a small whimper came out, so I settled for shaking my head.
“Can I fix it?”I shook my head again.“Can I hold you while you feel your way through it?”
I just nodded. His arms wrapped around my shoulders as I lay my head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under my ear was comforting. Instead of crying harder, I sank into his calm. The storm of emotions rolled back, making it easy to breathe.
“Can I ask you something?” Rhett whispered over the top of my head. I nodded while wiggling closer, enjoying the tightness of his arms around me. “How does this whole poly relationship thing work for you? For us? If there is an us?”
“I’d like there to be an us,” I admitted. “I imagine it’s just like dating anyone else, but I also have someone else.”
“That you’re married to.”
“Yes. But we talk, we have rules, we keep schedules, we go out, we stay in.”
“And if I don’t want to date anyone else?” he asked. “Would that bother you?”
“No. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” I said, and I meant it. “But that doesn’t change that I’m married. And I’m not leaving him.”
“I don’t expect you.” He kissed the top of my head. “I don’t think I ever pictured dating this way, but I also never pictured meeting someone worth dating. I don’t need a whole lot, and I keep busy with everything I do. But I like this, spark plug. I like you. A lot more than I thought I would.”
I smiled as I pulled back. He kissed me and then a second time, letting it linger.
“Maybe you should ask for my number,” I told him. “Might make this easier.”
“Nah, I’m going to just keep throwing you out into the fucking wild and see what happens,” Rhett said with a laugh. “I like being stalked by you.”
I buried my face in his chest, smiling to myself.This man.
“I like you too,” I said quietly.
Rhett drove me home, which was probably a good thing since I was stuck wearing one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that looked like pants with my height. I let myself in quietly, but Logan wasn’t there.
I spent just enough time changing into my own clothes and drying my wet hair before the emotional storm broke. I curled up in bed with quiet tears flowing endlessly. For the better part of an hour, I lay there, staring at Logan’s nightstand as I tried to figure out what happened to us. When had the distance between us started?
I painstakingly analyzed every year of our marriage and tried to figure out when we went from spontaneous dates and outings to everything on a schedule. When had routine replaced connection? When had the intimacy between us vanished?
Each question brought on another wave of sadness. I loved Logan with all my heart. I’d never love anyone the way I loved him.Was it wrong to want more? To want to recapture what we’d lost?
Somewhere before midnight, Logan came home. As always, he was quiet while he got ready for bed. I tried to hold it together—I really did—but the sniffle that escaped me was more than enough to make him stop.
“Eva?” Logan whispered.
“When did we fall apart?” I asked. I was barely able to get the words out around tears. He turned on the side table lamp, the light flooding his concerned expression.
