by Clare James
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“I’m not saying anything. Just don’t make assumptions about someone because of their past.”
“It’s not that I’m making assumptions,” I argue. “I’m just trying to put myself in Tabby’s shoes. If I had been hurt sexually, it would be hard to have a sexual relationship that wasn’t completely loving and safe.”
“That’s you, Noah. But everyone deals with things differently. That’s why we need to talk about this stuff with our partners.”
“I just don’t want to upset her.”
“That’s not what I think. I think you don’t want to upset yourself. I don’t think you enjoy—how’d you say it?—feeling impotent.”
“Oh, hell no. You’re not going to put some Freud shit on me now, are you?”
“It’s not my job to put anything on you. All I can do is share my perspective. Let me ask you this: Do you think people in relationships that are more experimental or nonconventional aren’t loving or safe?”
I take a breath, not wanting to seem flustered or pissed off by her questioning. “I feel like you’re twisting my words around.”
“I’m just trying to get to the source of this issue,” she says. “I don’t mean to misconstrue, but I think it’s important that we explore this. Let’s just talk about you for a moment. Just you. Do you like what your partner has initiated sexually?”
“Yes.”
“Have you felt safe?”
“Me?” I raise my brow. I can’t help it. “Yes.”
“Are you sexually aroused by your latest sexual activity?”
“Always,” I tell her.
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Now, that’s a tricky one, because to answer, I do need to include my partner.”
“I’ll allow it.” She winks.
“I’m aroused, but I don’t necessarily enjoy it because I’m too stressed out from worrying about Tabby.”
“What is it exactly that you’re worried about with Tabby?”
“That I’ll hurt her,” I admit.
“What else?”
“That we’ll get down this path and not be able to get back.”
“Why or how would that happen?” she asks.
“Because we like it too much.”
“Let’s bring it back to you,” she says.
“Because I like it too much.”
We have a winner. The source of the problem.
“And?” she asks, trying to hide a smirk. I know she is.
“I don’t want to like it. There I said it. I want to be better than that. More evolved. I guess I just want things to be how they were.”
“Safe?”
“Yes.”
“Where there is no chance of you losing control?”
“Yes. I mean no. ” Wait a damn minute.
“May I make a suggestion?” she asks.
“That’s why I’m here, right?”
She answers with a smile, and I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.
“I’d like you to consider exploring this,” she says. “Find out what works and what doesn’t. Try it and make informed decisions after you both try the things you’re interested in.”
“So what you think I should do with Tabby is get crazy and lose control?”
“Is that how you interpret it?” She takes off her glasses now.
“Yes,” I say.
“Well, then my answer is yes,” she says. “Get crazy and lose control with your committed partner.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask.
“Absolutely.”
“Can I ask you something else?” I say since I’m here.
“Sure.”
“What’s the deal with the chairs?” I motion to the rainbow of rockers.
“What do you think the deal is?” she asks, always answering a question with a question.
“A little mindfuck you use to entertain yourself,” I say.
“Maybe I just like colorful things,” she says.
“Or …” I probe.
“Or,” she repeats. But when she says it, it sounds like an admission of something. I’m just not sure what.
***
I shuffle out of the good doctor’s office (or porch, in this case) exhausted. I’m now emotionally bankrupt. And I’m supposed to go explore crazy monkey love with my girlfriend?
Wow.
I had no idea what Tabby dealt with while coming here every week. Christ, maybe she should look into a new shrink.
As I get on my bike, who of all people shows up? The meathead who was in the audience at Tabby’s show. He jumps off his motorcycle (of course he does) wearing that same smirk.
I’d think it’s strange seeing him here at this particular moment, except for the fact that I don’t believe in coincidences.
“So we meet again,” I say, wanting—no, needing—to get to the bottom of it.
“Tabby’s boyfriend, right?” he says.
“How’d you know that?”
“We’re in group together, and I see you drop her off sometimes.”
There is only one reason a guy would notice this. Because he’s interested in my woman.
“And you see the same therapist?” I ask.
“It’s sort of a package deal,” he says, toying with his helmet. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself at the show. I’m Finn Daley.”
I’m not sure why that name sounds familiar. “I’m Noah Adler.” I reluctantly shake his hand. “You and Tab are friends, then?”
“We are. It’s a pretty tight group. I’m not much for shrinks though.” He nods at Payne’s office. “I get most of my strength from other like-minded individuals … like Tabby.”
Like-minded my ass.
“So I didn’t mean to freak you out at the show or be weird or whatever,” he says. “It’s just that she told me about her plans with you that night after the show.”
“What?”
“Nah, it’s not like that. We talked about it during group. I felt like I knew you just from her description, and then Tab gave some of us tickets for her show, and what can I say? I was curious about you. Most of us go outside our relationships to work out our shit. We figure it out on our own. We don’t bring a partner into it. But not Tab. No, she wants you there every step of the way. I just had to find out if you’re worthy.”
“And did you?”
“No. Not really. Verdict is still out on that.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “You’re the Chairman of the Jury.”
“Something like that,” he says. Then he secures the helmet on the back of his bike and heads toward the front porch.
I bet he chooses the orange chair jammed in the corner. Goddamned weirdo.
The entire ride home, all I can do is wonder if this day can get any worse.
Chapter 13
So, you should never, ever ask if things can get any worse, because Murphy would tell you: Yes, they sure as shit can.
And they do.
You’d think that, after my session with Dr. Payne, I’d be walking on a cloud since she basically said that I could take my girl seven ways from Sunday and still respect myself in the morning.
But after the pissing contest with Finn—maybe not a pissing contest, but I sure as hell don’t like the guy—I’m still in a foul mood.
Or maybe I’m just looking for a distraction because I don’t want to have to think about what either of them said.
I’m not worthy of Tab.
I shouldn’t assume what other people feel.
I need to do this.
I should really consider that.
Fuck it.
Heat fills my belly, and I stew on it until Tab comes home. It turns out to be a recipe for disaster, because, in my mind, I’ve shifted most of the blame for this entire situation on my new friend, Finn Daley.
And mad is better than hurt, which is what I really feel after having been betrayed in this way. “She talked about it in group,” Finn said. Tal
ked about it. About us and my apparent shortcomings. And you just know that that dude was eating the shit up, using it against me. He wasn’t fooling anyone. I knew he wanted to get into my girlfriend’s pants.
Question is: How far will Tabby go to get what she needs sexually? And how far will I go down this road, potentially sabotaging everything Tab and I have together because of some misplaced fury?
I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question.
Though what I really have to ask: Is it Tabby who’s breaking down? Or is it me?
Turns out, this isn’t the worst of it.
***
“Noah,” Jenna says when I pick up the phone.
“About time. I’ve been calling you for two days,” I snap.
“I’m sorry. Things have been a little busy around here, but I had to tell you right away. The Richardson Organization did put an offer in on some property in the warehouse district.”
“Shit.”
“I know,” she says. “Shit, shit, shit. Looks like they’re moving forward with their plans.”
“You haven’t said anything to Michael yet, have you?”
Silence.
“Have you, Jenna?” I ask again. “Answer me.”
“Not yet,” she says. “But I plan on it tonight. Foster really had a point. Michael and Tabby need to know what’s going on.”
“Moot point if we find a way to stop them,” I say, trying to change her mind.
“How is that possible without getting in some serious trouble?”
“Just don’t count me out yet,” I say.
“Okay. You have forty-eight hours. Starting … now.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Now, get back to work. I need your help.”
“Don’t worry. Either way, we’ll get through it.”
***
This whole time I’ve had myself believing that there was no way Tabby could handle it if Thomas moved here. But the simple truth is that I don’t think I could handle it if the Richardsons get their way. If the man who treated Tabby so brutally, who hurt her so badly, comes to live and prosper in my own hometown? Where I’d have to drive by the building every day?
Maybe I wouldn’t have to drive by it, but I’d know that it’s there. I’d know he’s out there.
Ain’t happening.
It’s so much to take in that I almost forget about the Finn Daley situation. Almost.
***
That night, I pounce when Tabby walks through the door.
“We need to talk,” I tell her.
“Why so you can tell me what I should think and feel and do?”
“I’m done with that. No more pressure about doing things my way. We have more pressing issues to deal with.”
“Like what?”
“Like Finn Daley.
“Where did you see Finn?” Her eyebrows knit together. “Wait, you didn’t go see Dr. Payne, did you?”
“I did.”
“You really did it? I .. don’t know what to say.”
“I said I would.”
Her face warms, and it looks like all might be forgiven—if I can just let go.
“Did you sit outside?” she asks, clearly avoiding the Finn topic and trying to lighten the mood.
“Yes.” I know where she’s going with this.
“What chair did you choose?” She rubs her hands together.
“The yellow one.”
She rolls her eyes. “Figures.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off a headache I feel coming on.
“You seem a little tense for someone who just got out of therapy,” she says
“It’s not the therapy that has me in knots, Tab. It was the damn confrontation by your buddy, Finn. They guy you’ve never told me about, but who keeps showing up.”
“Ah, so you saw him at the office? Well, that’s Finn. I think he enjoys confrontations.”
“He seemed quite enamored with you,” I say, and then I can’t help the next thing that falls out of my stupid pie hole. “I had no idea the group offered the hookup option.”
“What are you talking about?” Tabby says.
“I don’t know. You tell me why he knew about all this personal stuff between us.”
“Because it’s group therapy and we talk about shit.”
“Really?” I scoff, acting like a complete asshole. “Well, keep me out of it.”
“Noah, calm down,” she says.
“I’m not going to calm down when you’re talking shit about our relationship with a fucking meathead.”
“I wasn’t talking shit about our relationship. God, if you only knew what I talked about in there.”
“Thanks to Finn, now I do.”
“I’m talking about the good stuff,” she almost whispers, but I’m too revved up to stop now.
“Just keep me out of it.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she raises her voice. “I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Good,” I say.
“Great,” she responds.
And she’s out the door before I get the chance to apologize.
Chapter 14
Tab went to the library to study. She never goes to the library to study. The things she’ll do to get away from me.
I just want her home. I want to apologize, and hold her, and fix this stupid mess, so I send her a text.
Me: I’m an asshole.
Her: Not exactly breaking news.
Me: I’m sorry.
Her: For?
Me: Everything
I have a lot of work to do, and I prepare while I wait for Tab to get home. I’m ready and looking forward to doing whatever it takes to make up. But shit, I would have to tell her about the Richardsons first.
This, whatever the hell this is between us, ends tonight. No more secrets.
Between my sessions with Dr. Payne and Finn, I don’t know which end is up anymore. That’s why I am ready to let Tabby decide. I will be what she needs.
And she will be what I need, and right now, I need her so desperately.
In bed, I go insane waiting for her to come home from the library.
She joins me far too long after. When she climbs into bed, she goes about her business, piling the pillows between us again. I’m not sure if she even knows she’s doing it, and that pisses me off even more. She’s already formed a habit to keep me away.
“These aren’t going to protect you, baby,” I tell her.
“I never wanted protection. I just wanted to be with you in every way.”
“And I want the same with you.”
“Maybe, but I worry that you think you have to rein it in around me and that makes me crazy. You know Thomas took so much away from me. If he took that too, I don’t think I could take it. You are my boyfriend. I don’t want to stay stagnated in our relationship. I want to do everything with you. I hear my friends talk and I don’t know. I just feel like half a woman or something. Damaged. Like I’ll never be able to run right. I want to be everything to you. I want the excitement and the craziness. I want to look back and know we gave each other everything. And it’s not just for me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You try to control everything, baby. You never fully let go. And that creates so much distance between us.”
She is right. There is part of me that does hold back. I never want her to look at me like him.
“I guess I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Being too much like him.”
“Thomas?”
I nod, not even wanting to go there.
“Impossible,” she says, shaking her head.
“If you knew what ran through my head on a daily basis, you might not be so sure.”
She takes my hand. “So, you’re telling me that you want to share me with your friends and put me on display?”
“Shit no.”
“You want to drug me and not have me present?” she asks to make her point.
“Tabby.” I don’t want to hear this.
“Then you’ll never be like him,” she says. “Never.”
She moves closer and I feel like I’m going under, drowning. I need her, and I can’t wait any longer.
I can’t tell her about the Richardsons’ family business now.
Shit. It can’t be this way.
But there will be a better time, and then I’ll tell her. No matter what.
Until then? I’m not going to blow it.
“Now, come here.” I pull her on top of me. “Tell me every filthy thing I’m allowed to do to your body,”
“Gladly,” she says.
Chapter 15
Last night, as it turns out, Tab didn’t want it rough or wild. She just wanted me.
This morning is an entirely different story.
Tabby greets me with a tight stroke over my morning erection.
“He bids you good day as well,” I say, leaning in toward her touch.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
“Ditto,” is all I can muster with the way she’s touching me.
“Were you really serious when we were talking about trying new things last night?
“As a heart attack,” I say. “Why? Did you have something in mind?”
She clears her throat and slides over to the drawer of the bedside table. She then proceeds to take out her vibrator.
“Are you man enough?” she asks, twiddling it between her fingers.
“Hell yes, I’ll use this on your sweet ass. Well, not on your ass—unless that’s where you want it. Is that where you want it?”
“Ah, no.” She laughs.
“Thank Christ.”
I’ve always known she’s had this tucked away, but I’ve always thought of it as a solo thing. A replacement for me when I’m not around and the mood struck.
I’ve used them on other girls, sure. But with Tab, I haven’t wanted her to feel degraded. I’ve thought about it a few times but never found the balls to go through with it.
Now, I’m really starting to understand what she’s been talking about.
So when she hands me the silver bullet, I have no issue putting it to work.
I turn it on low, and the buzzing has nothing on the current inside me. I run the sleek tool along her lips, teasing her opening ever so slightly. It is fucking awesome, and I can’t believe we haven’t used it before.
