by Anna Martin
He was in the process of making a pitcher of iced tea.
“I’m working on some spreadsheets for Serena,” I said, leaning against the wall. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m not annoyed because you’re doing work. I’m annoyed because you seem so intent on hiding it from me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No? It certainly fucking feels that way.”
“My job is important to me. Sometimes I just want to get on with it and forget….”
“Forget me?”
“No!”
Will shoved the pitcher of tea into the fridge and slammed the door shut. “I’m trying, Jess, so help me. All I want is for you to involve me a tiny bit in what’s going on with you. It’s not like I’m going to stop you from doing your job.” He gave me a hard stare. “Is that what you think I’ll do?”
“Of course it isn’t. I suppose….” I tried to figure out exactly what was going on. There really wasn’t any reason to keep this from him. I knew I was being stupid. “I need something that’s mine. I need that autonomy.”
“Don’t you have that now?”
“Not really, Will. I’m not the main earner in this house, and I won’t ever be while I do this job. I like having my own job, being independent.”
I saw when it clicked for him. “Is this about money?”
Sort of, it was. I didn’t like the venom in his tone, though, so I said, “No.”
“It fucking is, isn’t it? Jesus.” He stalked past me into the living room, heading for his office. I caught his wrist.
“All right, so where will we be, Will, if something happens to one of us? I don’t want to think about it either, and I know I’m being fucking morbid, so forgive me for that, please. I’m terrified of being without you.” That confession hurt. I couldn’t bear to say this stuff most of the time. “It haunts my fucking nightmares to think there might be a day when I have to do what my dad is doing and wake up every morning without the person I gave my life to.”
“You think I don’t feel that way too?” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “You think it’s any different for me?”
“No! But it is different for you. Your life outside of me is different.”
“Don’t,” he said in a warning tone. “Don’t go there, Jesse.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling totally, utterly helpless. “I don’t want to have to think it. But you don’t have to worry about being homeless if we split up. You’ll be okay. You have your family around you in Seattle. You’re a wonderful man, Will. You don’t ask for anything from me you know I can’t afford. I’ll never make the money you make, though, and….”
“Why do you think I bought this place?” he demanded. “Your name is on the fucking deed, Jess. Not mine.”
“What?”
“It’s your house. Your house, near your family. This—all of this—is for you.”
“What…. Why would you do that?”
“So you don’t have to worry! I will never, ever stop loving you, but if you change your mind and want to leave, you have somewhere to go. You’re not trapped by me anymore, Jesse. This is your plan B.”
“I don’t need a plan B. There is no plan B in my life.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want this to come between us. I never had any intention of telling you unless it actually came down to the line. Even if one day things all fall apart—”
“They won’t,” I said.
“No. They won’t. Because I won’t ever stop fighting for you.”
That made me wobble. “This is stupid. We’re fighting over something that will never happen.”
“It doesn’t make your fears any less real, though. Yeah, I earn more than you. That’s why I have trusts drawn up in your name. That’s why I have a will that clearly states that everything I have goes to you first if anything happens to me, then my family. The fucking government in this country won’t protect us even if we do get married, not financially anyway. I’ve got you covered, Jesse. I promise.”
“You don’t need to… to provide for me. I can stand on my own.”
“You can, but you don’t have to. That’s the whole point—we’re fine on our own. We don’t need anyone else. I can live without you, Jesse, but I really don’t want to.”
Will turned away from me and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. That broke me.
“Marry me,” I whispered. Familiar words now. “Marry me, Will.”
“How many more times are we going to ask each other?” he said, with still-damp eyes.
“How about this is the last time? No more asking. Let’s just do it.”
My throat was sore from yelling and thick with emotion. I wasn’t ready for this, any of this, not ready to expose myself so fully to my fears and be brought back again by the man I loved.
Will grabbed hold of my hands, stepping close to me. We really were almost exactly the same height. He had maybe an inch on me, maybe.
Not when he knelt down, though, still holding onto my hands and looking up.
“Jesse Ross, would you do me the incredible honor of being my husband?”
“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?”
That made him laugh and press his forehead to our joined hands.
“Yes,” I said. “Always yes. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you from this angle before. It looks good on you.”
He pulled me to the floor then, and I held on to him, wanting to spill apologies but knowing they weren’t needed and would only fan the embers of a dying argument. Will’s arms around me were the solid anchor that held my life together, even when it felt like everything was falling apart. I could rage and scream and yell at him, but this wouldn’t ever change. I belonged to him and, however much it terrified me, he belonged to me right back.
“I want a spring wedding,” he said, pulling me farther down so we could sit on the floor with our backs resting against the couch. My hand found his, and we tangled our fingers together. “And since Jennifer put the idea out there, I want to get married in our back yard.”
“Here? Or at home?”
“At home, I think. Something simple.”
I hummed in agreement. The specifics could wait, for a few more months at least. His idea was perfect, though.
“No more asking each other? Really?”
“Asking each other all the time was our way of avoiding the issue,” Will said, smirking at me. “And you know it, so don’t try and deny it.”
“I can’t offer you much, I know that. You’ve got everything I am, though.”
“No, you give me everything,” he said, and dropped his head to my shoulder. “You’re going to need to stop saying that, or I’ll beat your ass raw.”
“I’d only enjoy it.”
“Mm.”
“My husband,” I said, trying the words out on my tongue. “This is my husband-to-be.”
He laughed. “This is Jesse, my better half.”
I swung my leg over to sit astride his thighs, then gently laid my lips on his, kissing him sweetly. He ran his hand up and down my back a few times, bunching up my shirt then smoothing it out.
“I honestly don’t know how I would have coped doing this without you,” I said, running my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. “I mean, I really, honestly, could not have coped not being here. And I don’t know how to be without you around.”
Will smiled, giving me one of those secretly pleased smiles, and I just wanted to crawl inside him.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve done what I came here to do, even though when I got here I didn’t know that’s what it was. So… it’s time to move on.”
“What about the house?” he asked.
I looked around. We’d done a lot to the “old Miller place” in the past few months. It wasn’t abandoned and run-down any more. It was a warm, loving home for someone. Just not us.
“You could rent it out,” I said. “You’d eventually get a return on your investment.”
“I had another idea,” he said cautiously. “We could let Jennifer live here.”
I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I mean, she could take care of it and stuff until she’s in a position to buy it or wants to move on. We can deal with it then. She wants to get a place of her own, but renting is expensive and she doesn’t want to be far from your dad. This could work for her, you know? Plus, I don’t think it’s going to drop much in value now.”
“You’re an amazing man.”
Will shrugged. “She’s my sister too, you know? She’s family.”
His ability to be totally amazing never changed. I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re pretty much my husband,” he murmured softly. “And we’ll make that official soon enough. Your family, my family. Same thing.”
That was good.
“Let’s go,” I repeated.
“Okay.”
There were a few things I had to do before we left Georgia. Will and I took flowers to Mama’s grave—pink lilies, her favorite. I promised to come back and visit her again soon and laid my lips on the cool marble headstone. There was a finality to this good-bye that made my chest ache, and Will held my hand all the way back to the car.
I drove back to our house and dropped Will off, leaning over to kiss him softly before turning around and heading out to the next county over. My stomach was in knots, turning up the bacon and eggs I’d made for breakfast and threatening to expel it all.
When I pulled up in front of Ben’s house, I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Before leaving the car, I sent Will a quick text, letting him know I’d arrived safe and I loved him. This visit had been his idea.
It had become a universal truth that Will knew me better than I knew myself. For all of his rage toward Ben and his misguided, unwelcome advances, Will also knew that Ben had been an important part of my life for the short time he was in it. I’d never meant for anyone to get hurt. On reflection, Will and I had definitely learned something about pulling other people into our D/s relationship: feelings other than our own could get hurt.
I let the car door slam shut, an advance warning to Ben, if he was listening, that someone was approaching the house. I guessed he’d be in his workshop, and followed the noise of the radio around the house, then hesitated in the doorway.
Ben looked up from where he was working on a spindle. “Well. I never thought I was going to see you again.”
“Hi,” I said softly. “Can I come in?”
He shrugged, and I stepped over the threshold. The room was warm and light, the scent of wood sweet and earthy. With the sun streaming in through the window, I could see miniscule particles of dust dancing in the air.
“Why are you here?” Ben asked.
I trailed my fingers over the unfinished top of a bookcase. “We’re moving back to Seattle,” I said, forcing myself to look up and meet his eyes. There was hurt there. It was humbling to know I was the one to cause it.
“Oh.”
“Will asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ben snapped.
“Because I don’t want you to think that you didn’t matter to me,” I said. “I never meant for you to get caught up in everything.”
“Your kinky sex games?”
“You weren’t a kinky sex game,” I said. “Trust me, if you were, I would never have agreed to see you again after that first night.”
“Whatever, Jesse,” he said, shaking his head. He ran his hand over the smooth spindle, checking it for splinters.
“I don’t have many friends,” I admitted quietly. I never had. I was comfortable in my own company; I didn’t need to surround myself with people. “I know I probably spend too much time with Will in our little bubble, but it’s hard for me to trust people.”
“You don’t need to use him as an excuse, you know,” Ben said. “He’s this shield between you and the rest of the world and it’s not fucking healthy.”
“He’s everything to me.”
“That’s not healthy either.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. He feels the same way about me, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really.” Ben sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry, Jesse. I don’t know why you came here.”
“To say goodbye,” I said. “To say sorry. I wish things were different and we could stay friends.”
Ben looked at me until I squirmed. Then he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the workshop to me and pulled me into a hug. This time his advances didn’t feel sexual at all. It was a hug from someone who didn’t understand a lot of things about me but knew a lot more. I hugged him back, inhaling deeply his unique scent of spice and sawdust.
“If you ever come back to the area, look me up,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I will,” I promised. “See you later.”
He nodded, and I turned to leave.
“Oh, Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations on the engagement.”
“Thanks,” I said with a grin.
Back at the house, Will had made a decent start on getting our stuff into boxes. It was weird to see the house I’d restored and turned into a home being deconstructed again less than a year after we’d built that home together.
“How was it?” Will asked, looking up from where he was packing DVDs.
“Okay,” I said. “Good. We cleared the air, I think.”
“Good,” he echoed.
I ruffled Will’s hair as I passed him on my way to the kitchen, a familiar, affectionate gesture. What I’d told Ben was true—we were everything to each other. I knew people outside our bubble wouldn’t always understand, and that was fine. He was the love of my life. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter 21
Will unlocked the front door and pushed it open, letting me in first.
The house was dark, all the curtains shut, and the air smelled dry and musty.
“Home at last,” Will murmured.
I kicked off my shoes and left them by the hallway closet, then wandered through the house. Cara had been in while we were away, and there was a stack of mail on the dresser, the few letters that hadn’t been forwarded. I trailed my fingers along the smooth wood surface as I passed, collecting dust.
Even though it was late afternoon, I went into the living room and threw the curtains wide, letting in the murky light and the familiar sight of rain. In the kitchen, Will opened the blinds and plugged the refrigerator back in, then set our coffeemaker to brew. We didn’t have any milk, but I didn’t mind drinking it black.
The suitcases were still in the car, but they could wait, there was no rush. I took Will’s hand and pulled him up the stairs. Our bedroom was at the front of the house, with two spare rooms at the back. Will opened the curtains and wrinkled his nose at the sight of the bare mattress on the bed.
“You wanna make it?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
While I got sheets and blankets out of the closet, he opened the window, letting in the fresh air. I didn’t mind the rain. We had a wide windowsill that would catch it, stopping the floor from getting wet.
We made up the bed together—it was easier with two doing it—then Will flopped dramatically down on top of the neat sheets. I laughed and ran my hand over the headboard. It was a wide, sleigh style with elegantly carved wood.
Then I lay on the bed next to him.
Without saying anything, Will gathered me in his arms and held on tight while I cried, and cried, and cried.
In the weeks that followed, I threw myself into my job, finding more than a little satisfaction in being able to use the work I’d done in Georgia to help build my next few projects. I was brought back to the museum family with lots of hugs. It was a relief. Part of me
had worried my colleagues wouldn’t exactly be pleased at having to pick up my workload while I’d been gone.
I’d underestimated them, though, and found a “welcome back” cake on my desk when I arrived the first morning.
The most difficult part of returning home was finally letting go of my mama. Getting over the loss of someone so monumentally important in my life wouldn’t be a quick process. I wasn’t good at romanticizing memories, though. She would always be an awkwardly nosy, opinionated Southern Belle, desperate to see me married off and producing grandchildren. Even when I came out, she’d still wanted that.
Will encouraged me to talk to my therapist again, and it helped being able to talk through the issues that had kept us in Georgia for so many months. Not that he minded. He’d told me he would follow me anywhere.
Now that he’d changed locations again, Will ended up working longer hours to bring everyone in Seattle up-to-date with what was going on in Atlanta. There were more trips planned for him—he needed to go to Houston and New York before the end of the year, part of the new responsibilities he’d acquired when taking the promotion. It would mean two weeks of me being on my own, so he was trying to delay that for as long as possible.
Other things, like our regular night having dinner with Cara and Will’s dad every Thursday, stayed the same, and we never brought our work home on Sundays unless it was really important. On Friday nights, we went out for dinner or ordered in if we were both tired. The routine helped rebuild the sense of normality I’d sorely missed.
After a few weeks at home, we opened up the playroom again.
Even though it had been thoroughly cleaned only a few days before we left for Atlanta, I still wanted to tidy up and dust before we had a session together. Keeping the playroom in good order was one of my responsibilities as his sub. The box of toys had been shipped back to Seattle, and I’d already worked my way through it, placing each item in its proper space.
Will found me in the attic, an Otis Redding CD playing while I scrubbed down the wood floors on my hands and knees.
“Now, why does this look familiar,” he said, mock-puzzled, as he leaned against the doorframe and tapped his finger against his bottom lip pensively.
