Page 45 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
“No, there’s not.” He agrees and kisses me gently.
I wake in the morning, sun streaming onto my face. I have never slept so soundly, wrapped in Nick’s huge, muscular body. I try not to make a sound so that I don’t wake him, not wanting the dream that was last night to officially end. As I reach for my water on the nightstand however, he throws a leg over mine.
“You can’t leave.”
“Just getting water, Nick.”
“Good, I like when you say my name.” He pulls me back to him, burying his face in my curls, that are no doubt in a messy heap overflowing amongst the pillows. “I’m not ready to get up yet.” I can feel the length of him pressed against my ass. Good morning indeed.
“Did you have other plans in mind?” I ask coyly.
He doesn’t say a word, just starts to pepper kisses down my neck and down my back, while his hands reach around from behind and taunt my breasts. The power of our synching desire again overwhelming our senses, so we spend a large chunk of the morning lost and wrapped in one another.
Hours later we start to emerge from the haze of each other. “We need to eat; I might pass out.” Nick finally acknowledges.
“I can run down and get something from Harolds.” I suggest.
“No, I am going to make you breakfast…well I guess its technically brunch at this hour.”
“It’s funny that you think I have groceries in my kitchen.”
“No eggs? Vegetables? Bread?”
“I think I have a loaf of bread from the day-old bin at the shop.” Nick looks at me incredulously.
“I am going to run to Rainbows, grab what we need. You should shower and rest until I come back and then can we talk some more?”
“I would like that a lot.” I am so comfortable that I am getting uncomfortable.
“Don’t feel like you need to put clothes on. I don’t think we need clothes for talking.” He gives me a flirty smirk as he throws on his jeans and his shirt from last night and starts heading toward the door, but then he turns and comes back to me, planting a kiss on my forehead before heading out.
As Nick leaves for provisions, the weight of what happened between us last night and this morning is palpable. I have never experienced pleasure and connection with someone in the way that we shared. I had laid myself bare to Nick last night in more ways than one. He knows my story, I divulged my flaws, and his acceptance of it all without hesitation is inflating my heart to bounds that I didn’t know existed.
My mind starts its predicable race of thoughts, so I take my meds and hop in a hot shower, hoping the heat and steam slows them a bit. When Nick returns, and he sees me on the couch in my robe, with my journal on my lap. He instantly can tell I am in a bit of a spiral.
“Hi Marcy, afraid I wouldn’t come back?”
“I don’t know if my mind is afraid that you wouldn’t come back, or that you would. It’s hard to explain.” I admit.
“Ah, got it.” He sets down some coffees, waters, muffins, and fruit on the coffee table. He has his gym bag with him. “I am going to rinse off, don’t move.” He showers quickly, returning in a robe he clearly took from his hotel. He grabs a soft throw blanket off the side of the couch and lays it over our laps. He says nothing as we eat together, the silence surprisingly calming. Food in my system, and his composed presence next to me, I finally get the nerve to speak.
“Hi.” I offer.
“Hi,” he says back with a smile. “I hope this is okay, that I just want to be around you. You can tell me to go at any time. I have no idea how the day after…whatever that was last night is supposed to go. Like what do I do if I don’t want to leave youyet? I am nervous.” His blue eyes are in that sparkly mode, with just a tinge of worry in them, an innocent looking worry. The vulnerability of his admission silences some of the strain in my mind and encourages my own admission.
“I am so comfortable with you that I am afraid. Afraid of what happens next or doesn’t happen next…I guess I am not sure of that part either. I don’t want you to leave, I know that much.” That part makes him smile. He holds my hand in his lap and spins my rings, an intimate gesture that I have come to love in the past 24 hours.
“Okay if we keep being transparent with one another and just doing what feels right?” He asks. “I think if we take that approach, we will be okay.”
“Day at a time?”
“Fuck, I don’t care if it’s a minute at a time. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
And with that, we settled into our foreign territories, together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Marcy
