Her lashes blinked rapidly. “I can’t.”
“Why? I love you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“It’s how I feel. I don’t want to stop.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I think I know you better than most.”
Her body sagged as she sighed. “Sometimes…I’m so sad and I don’t know why.”
“We all get sad,” he told her softly. “There are ways to deal with it. Then when the sadness comes it doesn’t hurt so bad.”
“I’m not always like this. Most of the time I can be happy, but then it always comes back and sometimes I don’t know why.”
He contemplated for a moment and then slowly sat beside her. “Do you remember when I talked to you about Stoic Philosophy?”
“You talk to me about a lot of philosophies.”
“This one I think you’ll be interested in. Do you want me to tell you about it?”
“Okay.”
He leaned back on the couch and pulled her to him. He’d suffered over the past few days too and needed to hold her. She snuggled into the curve of his arm and he spoke softly as though he were telling her a bedtime story.
“Stoicism comes from Athens around the third century B.C. The Stoics believed that our errors in judgment caused destructive emotions. Over time, their beliefs have become a way of life for many. Stoicism is a choice, founded in the virtue of happiness.
“There are a few points I think—if you really applied yourself—you could gain a great deal from. The first is accepting the limit of our control. We can only influence so much of the world around us. We need to recognize the external things we have no control over and accept what we cannot control. We are only responsible for ourselves, our personal behavior.”
“I’m not controlling,” she said quietly.
“But you let other people’s behavior weigh on you as if you’re responsible for it and you own it. Think of your past. Think of the things you’ve shouldered unnecessary blame for. You need to convince yourself to let those things go. Excuse yourself. You’re only human.”
“Tell me more.”
“Another element is living in the moment. Guilt is a useless emotion. There’s no point in reliving sadness simply because it once existed. Let the past go. Notice how when you lose yourself in the moment, with your family, your classes, you forget you’re supposed to be sad. Keep forgetting, Sheilagh, because you aren’t supposed to be anything, but alive. Live.”
“But sometimes the things I try to lose myself in make me sad anyway.”
“Well, you need to make conscious decisions and be aware of who you are. Regardless of your virtue, I don’t think you’re a woman who can handle casual sex. Sleeping with a stranger might have offered a distraction in the past, but the emotional repercussions were far too great and not worth the cost of a few minutes of escape. So many of the stresses that harass us are superficial and hardly worth stressing over. If you can’t change it, let it go. It’s only weighing you down in the end.”
“What else do the Stoics believe?”
He smiled, glad he’d piqued her interest. “We are what we repeatedly do. If you pretend to be someone by behaving a certain way and continue to repeat that behavior, you eventually become that person. Our habits make us who we are. If a mean person pretends to be nice by doing nice things, they are essentially turning into a nice person. Do you see? I think you’re so used to being sad when others aren’t looking, you forget how not to be. It takes a conscious effort to change one’s self. Maybe they need a phrase as a prompt when they’re tempted to go back to the old way of living.”
“Like what?”
“Well, it could be something as simple as saying, ‘I deserve to be happy.’ Reminding yourself of this and choosing opportunities to practice being so, will eventually conclude with happiness.”
“There isn’t always something to do.”
“Being a philosopher is about contemplation. You’ll have to take time to know yourself. Keep a journal and compile a list of things you enjoy. Keep adding to it as you grow old.”
“I keep a journal.”
He squeezed her shoulder, not surprised. “Good, but rather than focusing on the negative, try using it as a tool for the positive. Write down goals and contemplate strategies for happiness rather than dwelling on misfortunate incidences that are over and done with. There’s really no need to keep them alive and record such things.”
“What else?”
“There’s one more point and I think this is a big one.”
“What is it?”
He kissed her hair. “Love. Plato believed the root of philosophy was love, learning to love, loving others, loving what is beautiful and good, and loving it passionately. Don’t be afraid to love, Sheilagh. It’s a wonderful gift. You possess it, but you’re afraid to use it.”
Brow tight, she sighed. “Why do you love me, Alec?”
That was a hard question. Why did anyone love another? Was there really any definite answer for that?
“I love you because I think you’re smart and your mind fascinates me. You discourse with me on an intellectual level I so enjoy. You stimulate me in a way most people don’t. I love you for the way you laugh and for the mischievous nature you sometimes possess. I love that you’re tenacious and self-assured in certain things. I’d love to see you become that confident in all things. You’re a very capable woman. You just let the fear of failure get in your way sometimes.
“I love the way you kiss me. I love that you won’t take a bite of salad until you’re certain not a single olive is hiding in the lettuce, but you’re too polite to ask the waitress to specialize the order. I love that you’re messy and I love that your socks never match. I love the moments when I can’t tell what you’re thinking, but I love it more when you share what’s going on in your head.”
“There’s a whole lot more to me than the way I order my food and being book smart, Alec.”
“I know. There are also parts of you I don’t care for, but I love you anyway.”
She turned and frowned at him. “That’s not very nice.”
He chuckled. “That’s honesty, Sheilagh. Anyone who says they love their partner and like every single thing about them is full of shit. No one’s perfect and we all have different tastes. If someone loved me, I’d expect them to love me enough to tell me when I’m wrong or when I doing a disservice to myself or others. Loving someone means helping him or her be a better person. We’re all just trying to be the best we can in this short life.”
She sat up on her knees facing him. “Alec?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a shitty essay grader, you hog the left lane when you drive and never go more than ten miles over the speed limit. You lose your keys constantly and pronounce ‘beer can’ like bacon. I’m telling you this because I want you to be a better person and because I love you.”
He stilled. She loved him? “You love me?”
“Yes. I love you.”
He smiled and leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was cut short as he pulled away and said, “Beer can. Beer can. Bollocks, it does sound like bacon.”
She giggled. “That’s okay. I think it’s kind of cute.”
“Will you come home with me now? I desperately want to make love to you, but am a wee bit shy knowing my son can hear us.”
“Do I need to get dressed?”
“I think you’re rather adorable in what you’re wearing.”
“Excellent. I’ll get my purse.”
* * * *
When Alec pulled his car in front of the garage, he turned the key and all was quiet. Glancing to his right, his heart stuttered with a touch of worry and his blood pumped with excitement. She was here, where she belonged.
“Are we all right?” he whispered, tracing his finger over her knee.
Her copper hair caught the fading light as she faced him. He wanted to kiss away every worry line trapping the beauty of her jade eyes. Sh
e was fighting a war with a one-man regime and she didn’t have to go at it alone.
Slowly, her mouth curved into a smile. “I missed you.”
God, he missed her too. “Let’s go inside.”
They made it into the kitchen and then he couldn’t resist another second without touching her. Catching her wrist, he pulled her slowly to him. His lips brushed over hers as he whispered, “You’ve gotten inside of me the way no one ever has, Sheilagh. When you aren’t there I’m hollow in ways I don’t enjoy.”
Her shimmering eyes blinked up at him as her arms slithered around his waist. “I know that emptiness. It’s dark and lonely. You chase away the shadows, Alec. I want us. I don’t want to run from it because it’s scary and unpredictable. I deserve to be happy. You make me happy.”
He brushed his lips over hers and their fingers laced together. In quiet accord, they ascended the stairs. When they reached his room he kissed her with a slow building passion he worried he wouldn’t be able to contain.
Her hands pulled at his neck as he stripped her of her clothing. Once they were both undressed, they fell into bed. Their bodies moved slowly, coming together like dawn over the distance and when they were one, all the darkness disappeared.
He filled her with purpose, needing her body like a man needs a home. She was his respite, his vessel, his peace. When she came her head tipped back in sheer surrender. His arms banded around her, holding her close as they rocked through the intense ecstasy of their joining. Never had it been so beautiful, so perfect.
Their union left their secrets exposed. Every façade had fallen, brick by brick, broken down with each caressing gaze, every stroking finger. No more boundaries. No more hiding. This was where they each desired to be and they would somehow make it work, because they each seemed to need it more than their next breath.
Chapter Ten
I deserve to be happy. God, I sound like a corny after school special. This is stupid.
I deserve to be happy. I will be happy. I will stop using my past as a weapon to beat me down. Alec makes me happy. Last night he braided my hair as we sat by the fire. Such a simple act, yet its value was immeasurable, overflowing my heart with foreign emotions. Those sharp little flutters in my chest are happiness. I love when he tickles me that way.
“Why don’t you start by telling me why you’re here?”
Sheilagh fidgeted on the small green loveseat. It was cushy, broken in, and the small office was altogether brighter than she’d expected. On the low table sat a bowl of Dove chocolates. She reached forward and grabbed one, not eating it, but gaining comfort from the slight weight in her hand. Her finger flicked at the foil wrapping.
“I cry a lot.”
Megan nodded. What kind of therapist went by “Megan”? “What do you cry about?”
“Sometimes my family, sometimes nothing. It hurts, like I’m wringing myself dry, but afterwards I feel lighter.”
“When you cry about your family, what sort of thoughts are you having?”
Visions of her brothers and sister flashed through her mind. Her mom dominated the picture, seeming larger than life, radiating love, while her father sat quietly at her side. “I miss them.”
“Do you visit home often?”
Her shoulder lifted then dropped. “Every time I visit I have to eventually say goodbye. I don’t like leaving them.” She didn’t mention she’d cried when she’d lived there too.
“Yet you chose to come to Princeton.”
Her lips tightened. Chose? Forced? “My brothers said I was losing myself in a place that never changed. I needed to get out.”
“Is Center County a small town?”
“Very. It’s your typical redneck township, built around a main street cleverly named Main Street. Everyone knows the mechanic, the butcher, and the taxidermist, and no one’s private business is ever really private.”
“Does that bother you, the lack of privacy?”
“I’ve never had privacy. There are nine of us in my immediate family.”
“Did you have your own room growing up, a space you could retreat to without disruption?”
These were some of the questions Megan asked over the first four weeks of therapy. It was tedious, but she continued to go to her every week, per Alec’s suggestion. In Sheilagh’s opinion, she wasn’t an interesting case study. No one had ever done anything terrible to her. She wasn’t held up at gunpoint, preyed upon by a relative. There was no real trauma to speak of and she imagined her therapist eventually growing bored with her whining, and inability to accept life and happily chug on.
Something was definitely wrong with her.
She returned to class and continued to ace her assignments. It was all very mundane. Her moments with Alec were fleeting and clandestine, but they opened a world of emotion inside of her she was still trying to figure out.
Somehow, he helped her get lost—from herself, the pain, the darkness. He was a key to her peace and she never passed up an opportunity to see him.
Their time was limited, so one random Tuesday she decided to pop in and catch his lecture. As he rambled on about the great philosophers of the past she shut her eyes and listened. His voice treated her to a symphony of memories playing through her mind. She could listen to him for hours. It was different, not having to take notes. The absence of pressure did something to her, allowed her to simply be in the moment.
As he excused his class she opened her eyes, sensing his approach. “Ms. McCullough. I didn’t expect to see you here. Is there something I can do for you?”
Students gathered their belongings and left the lecture hall. She met his gaze and smiled. He was so beautifully cliché in his tweed jacket and white button down. “My afternoon was open and I felt the need for something cerebral.”
“Would you like to come to my office?”
She nodded slowly, gathering her belongings. As they walked through the halls of the philosophy building, she kept a keen appraisal of their distance. He held the door to his office and she entered.
The soft click of the door closing flipped a switch inside of her. Her bag dropped to the floor and her body heated with his closeness as he pressed his chest to her back. Hands coasted over her sleeves and she shivered.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against her hair.
Tipping her head to the side, her eyes shut as he softly brushed her hair away from her neck and pressed a kiss there. Shivers danced over every patch of skin he touched and she abruptly turned. Her fingers dragged through his hair as she pulled his mouth down to hers. Their breath drew in as they devoured each other.
He backed her up until her ass crashed into his desk, rocking the belongings perched on top. “God, you’re sexy.”
She lifted and scooted onto the surface. His body filled the space between her thighs as her legs wrapped around his hips. His hands sifted under her shirt and cupped her breast. She arched into his touch and moaned into his mouth.
The sense of outsiders walking by heightened her excitement. “Fuck me, Alec.”
He growled into her mouth and suddenly he was gone. The lock on the door clicked and his fingers made quick work of unsnapping her jeans. He hoisted her to her feet and spun her so her belly was flat on his desk. Papers scattered to the floor as his zipper came down. Warm hands cupped her ass and her knees widened as much as her jeans bunched around her legs would allow.
When his fingers found her sex she was wet and ready. “This is very brazen, Sheilagh,” he said as his finger thrust deep.
“Do it. I need you inside of me—now.”
The soft material of his pants brushed the back of her thighs as he lined his cock up with her sex. He entered her swiftly, with a hard thrust, burying himself. She went up on her toes and grunted.
“Shh…”
“Hard, Alec. I need it hard.”
He withdrew and thrust deep. The wood of his heavy desk dragged over the tile floor with every solid advance. She bit her lip to keep quiet and savored t
he sound of his ragged breathing.
She wouldn’t come, but that was okay. That wasn’t what this was about. This was about needing to feel his possession, the potent need he held for her. “Harder.”
His speed doubled and she luxuriated in his ownership of her body. The muffled smack of his hips against her ass drove her to places where only he could take her. His body tensed and shivered, swelled deep inside of her, and then he was coming. When he finished, he collapsed on her back, breathing hard.
“I can’t believe we just did that here.”
She sighed contently. “I love you.”
His lips pressed to her ear. “I love you too.”
He withdrew and quickly helped her right her clothing. As he tucked in his shirt she picked up the items that had fallen to the floor. He unlocked the door and looked at his watch. “I have another lecture in twenty minutes. Will I see you tonight?”
She nodded. “I have to go to the library for a bit, but I’ll be by later.”
He approached her and kissed her tenderly, his thumb dragging over the line of her jaw as he stepped away. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
She collected her things and kissed him one last time before easing out of his office. As she shut the door and turned, she stilled. A professor she’d never had, but recognized as a university employee gave her a strange look. Letting her hair fall over her face she quickly walked past him in the direction of the library.
* * * *
“Tell me about Alec.”
Sheilagh leaned back on the green loveseat and sighed. “Alec is…good.”
“Why good?” Megan asked.
“He helps me escape.”
“What is it you’re escaping from?”
She shrugged. “Nothing tangible. It’s more an escape from myself.”
“Are you intimate?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“Why does that question amuse you?”
Faking It (McCullough Mountain) Page 16
