Page 48 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
“James, I—”
He keeps going, and I lapse back into silence. “Then Imogen invited you to the pool party, and…for the first time since Renée died, I noticed you. As a woman, not just as a person.” He glances at me over his shoulder, briefly, and then turns back to the window. “I saw you. And once I did, I couldn’t…I don’t know. I couldn’t unsee you. And believe me, I tried. Not that I didn’t want to see you, I just didn’t want to see anyone. I believed that part of me was dead and I was better off that way. Despite the promise I made to her right before she died, I just never had a desire or an intention to even try to reawaken that part of me. Renée was it for me, and she was gone, so why bother?”
Another long pause.
“It’s the only promise I ever made to her that I haven’t kept.” He laughs bitterly. “And there’s a weird, ironic sort of guilt about that, too. But missing her, hating life without her…is still so strong.” He turns now and gazes steadily at me, with a deep pain in his expression, mixed with…something else. I don’t know what. “But I saw you. I saw you—as a woman. I was attracted to you, as a woman. And Nova, that’s brought on more guilt than I even know how to express, much less deal with. Because you’re so different from her. You’re everything she was not—and I don’t mean that as a comparison, like she was lacking anything or vice versa. Just that you’re polar opposites in pretty much every way. But I guess most of all, it’s the physical aspect that messes with me the most. Emotionally, I don’t think we’ve pushed into territory that prompts this level of guilt, but physically? My attraction to you is just…a fucking problem.” He shakes his head. “Shit, man. I don’t know how to even say it.”
I shrug. “Say it how it is. Don’t mince words. You and I both appreciate hearing the blunt, raw truth, even if it’s brutal.”
He nods. “Yeah, okay. So…” A moment of thought. “I’m just trying to put it into words. For myself, if not for you. I guess it’s that I’m so crazy physically attracted to you, and that you’re so differently built.” Another pause. “She was so self-conscious about being flat-chested. She wasn’t generally jealous, but if a girl with big tits was around, she’d sometimes ask me if I wished she looked like that, or did I want her to get implants.”
“Ahhh. Now we come to the crux of it.” I keep my eyes on his. “You feel guilty being attracted to me, in part because I have the body Renée was always worried you’d leave her for.”
He nods, tearing his gaze from mine, emotions boiling in him. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Exactly. It’s taken some soul-searching to realize that, too.” He groans, rubs his face with both hands. “I never felt that way. I never wanted to change her. If she’d wanted implants, I’d have supported her, if it was something she felt was important to her, but she only ever talked about that when something messed with her own insecurity. Like I said, I was totally in love with her, and even if there was a girl around with big tits or whatever else, even if they were literally hanging out in the open—which did happen once, on vacation—I only had eyes for her. And normally, she was confident in that, in my love for her. But sometimes, those insecurities would flare up.”
“So you feel guilty for even being attracted to me in the first place.”
He nods. “Yeah. Like I’m betraying her, betraying my attraction to her by being so attracted to you, being built the way you are—like you said, the embodiment of what she felt self-conscious about not being.” He frowns. “I’m not sure that made any sense.”
“It made perfect sense to me.” I let out a breath. “So where does that leave us? Because I can’t change the way I look. I’ve worked hard to be confident, to love myself for being six feet tall, for being a dedicated powerlifter—having big guns and thick thighs and broad shoulders.”
“I’m just explaining why I’m fucked up,” James says. “I’m glad you love yourself for who you are—you’re a gorgeous, amazing woman. You should be proud of yourself.”
“James…” I sigh, hunting for words. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say.” I throw up a hand. “I’m attracted to you, James. That’s no secret at this point. I like you. What happened in my kitchen the other day—it was one of the best experiences of my life…until…you know. Not just since Craig, but…ever. Objectively, comparatively, it just was that good. I felt that good with you. And yeah, I feel guilt over that. It was like, Craig is gone, he’s dead, and here I am having a sexual experience that’s better than pretty much everything Craig and I ever shared. I loved the man—we had chemistry. We had good sex, sometimes even great sex. And you and I didn’t even have sex, not really, yet it was still just that good.”
