Page 65 of Binding Their Hearts

Alice, Alice, Alice.

He chanted nothing but her name, and sometimes caught the sound above the buzzing in his ears, so maybe he’d said it aloud. She teased with her tongue, tracing the ridge of his cock, circling the head, then plunged and engulfed him like she meant to take him all in and leave nothing behind.

Fire coursed through him. He ground his fingers into the mattress—no sheets to clench, nothing to hold on to but Alice. Paper rustled as her rhythm rippled through the bed beneath his offering of flowers.

He tipped his head back to get more air in his burning lungs, but then he couldn’t see her. “Please.” He needed to come so fucking bad. She surrounded him in a haze of scent and sound and warmth, and her grip on his wrists and his cock tightened. She wouldn’t let go. Alice would never let him go. “Please, can I, can I—”

“Yes.”

He came in a rush that stretched time and space, a blaze that burned him to ash and left him whole again. Like the pines that seeded the next generation in fire. Alice seared away the things he no longer needed, until he was just her Jay, pure and trembling.

The hands on his wrists released, suddenly stroking his chest, then curling around his back as she rose on her knees. Her eyes swirled with golds and browns and greens around wide, dark centers. “Hey, hey, sweetheart, I’m here. I’m here. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I should’ve—I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Was that choked-up voice his? Oh. Oh! No wonder Alice was frantically petting him. His cheeks were wet. “I’m good. Great. I’m fantastic.” He slid forward, down off the bed to protect the flowers, and thumped on his ass inches from her knees. “Seriously, feel me. I’m all new and shiny.”

“I am feeling you.” She cupped the back of his neck and felt him up like he’d taken a tumble off his bike. No lumps, bumps, or concussions, he promised. “You’re shaking is what you are.”

“Maybe you’re just really, really good—incredible, even—at apologies.”

Pressing their foreheads together, she exhaled in a shuddering laugh. “I forget sometimes how much I enjoy that with you.” She teased his mouth open with her tongue and kissed him hard, bringing with her the taste of his salt. “You’re so expressive. You get joyful with your whole body, and it just flows into me. Makes me want more. To make you feel more. To make us more.”

He wrapped himself around her. His arms demanded an Alice to cling to. “I’m gonna miss these. I know it’s only been like six months, but I look forward to it every week.”

He'd learned in therapy about instability being a trigger. How consistent behaviors and expectations offered the security his chaotic childhood missed out on. He couldn’t hang all his need for permanence on Henry and Alice—that wouldn’t be fair to them, and it wouldn’t heal the layers of road rash Danny said they had to carefully pick out. He had to create stability for himself. Inside himself. But lovers could contribute to the process.

Alice ruffled the hair back from his forehead and kept going, massaging his skull with her fingertips. “You have done a magnificent job taking care of our room. That’s all we’re leaving—the room. Not our connection, and not your service to me. We will find you a meaningful task in the new house, and I will still review your efforts every week and reward you when you’ve earned it.” Drawing in tight, she brushed her nose across his ear. “You always earn it, stud. We’re both lucky that way.”

Not lucky. Loving. They loved each other so well they didn’t need luck.

Chapter thirty-one

Henry

As Henry roamed the apartment a final time, the echoing emptiness divorced the apartment from the haven it had become. Fifteen years he’d lived within these walls, but only in the last five had the rooms been more than a place to store his paints and lay his head. He carried all he needed from this place within him, the memories his to call up at will. Their new accommodations would be a home from the start, filled with laughter and love—and properly deeded to pass to Alice and Jay should anything befall him.

Despite his pets’ earlier fretting, the packing had indeed been accomplished before the moving company’s arrival this morning. Henry had led Brooke on a tour of the apartment, pointing out the items requiring particular care, then stood aside as she marshalled her team and issued orders with cheerful steel in her voice.

He didn’t know her personally, only by Em’s recommendation, but her command of her crew and their obvious focus and competence proved impressive. Six workers had swarmed the boxes and furniture, leaving nothing behind.

Downstairs, he passed the keys to Mr. Nagel and thanked him for his excellent service as the building superintendent. The day was pleasingly balmy for mid-November, nearly sixty degrees and sunny, so he walked to Coolidge Corner for a proper deli lunch and more takeout than even Jay would be capable of devouring for dinner.

Brooke’s crew resumed their work at the new house after lunch, arriving a handful of minutes after he did and taking the expedient route of parking their truck directly out front and impeding travel entirely through the block.

“Double time,” she hollered, holding out a stack of orange cones. “Simon, block it off.”

The boxes had been well-labeled and color-coded by room with stickers—the idea Alice’s contribution and the application Jay’s—and Henry quickly found himself with little to do but remove himself from the workers’ paths. The kitchen proved a fine refuge. Box after box arrived at the entry as he cleaned and lined the cupboards. The wall of windows above the counter saturated the space with sunlight. Even the patio, surrounded as it was by other three- and four-story homes, likely received enough light for painting en plein air. Though with his studio and deck upstairs and the public gardens a short walk away, he might never need to test that theory.

Once the furniture had been arranged to his satisfaction and a few additional bits of assistance provided, he sent Brooke and her crew on their way with a hefty tip and closed the door. Blissful silence ensued. His studio setup could wait until—well, Monday, presumably. Tomorrow would be their first full day together in the family home, and Sunday would be the ceremony.

How quickly the days had flown. Ten weeks ago, he had confronted the very real possibility that Jay might be lost to him forever, and he and Alice left to piece together what happiness they could in his absence. In less than forty-eight hours, he would claim them properly and publicly for eternity.

The enormity walloped him, and he fumbled for a seat on the bench in the entry hall. The bench had come with the home. The stylish metal swing-out bike rack freshly mounted to the wall beside it had not. The ceremony would have no legal bearing. Nothing would change. And everything would change.

Alice and Jay had each privately pledged themselves to him. But now they would stand before a significant number of his friends and acquaintances—people who had known him for nearly his entire adult life—and bind their lives to his. How long or short those lives would be lay in the hands of chance. But the intent behind their promises, that was forever. That was each of them acknowledging that in this moment, they could imagine no more perfect future than the one they created together.

“A future that begins now.” He rose with renewed purpose and began putting their bedroom suite to rights. More thought would be needed for the layout and design of a playroom; for tonight, having sheets on their bed would suffice. He worked steadily, at times humming in the silence. The stereo would be on his list tomorrow.

At five, he left the bedroom in moderately satisfactory shape and returned to the kitchen, illuminating the front stoop as he passed. Dusk had fallen. The overhead lights washed the kitchen’s elegant white lines in a cozy yellow glow. The brightness of the countertops, appealing as it was, might require a few days’ acclimation after the galactic darkness of his previous decor.

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