Chapter Six
Spencer
Dr. Klein doesn’t write anything down this time. She just watches me—steady, quiet.
“And how did that feel?”
Her voice is calm, but not clinical.
“To be seen . . . completely. To be wanted, not just by one of them, but both.”
I open my mouth but the words catch. Of all the things I’ve admitted, this might be the hardest.
She leans forward slightly, as if softening the space between us.
“You have stated you were ashamed of your sexuality. But in that moment, Spencer—was there shame, or was there relief?”
Her question seemed rhetorical. She knew the answer. I understood her point. She wants me to accept it was relief, but she doesn’t know the rest of the story.
Dr. Klein can’t comment on this until she’s heard it all; then she’ll appreciate why my shame is so gut-wrenching.
“A lot has happened since then. I don’t question how happy I was for us to be together. The three of us fit perfectly.”
My gaze drops away from her as I consider how to make my next point.
“Unfortunately, it was all fake. I thought our love was genuine. They both shared my entire heart. I was so fulfilled. So comfortable. Like my life would never get better.”
My skin was prickling, making me uneasy again.
“I understand you want clarity—that’s completely valid. But your brain has been protecting you for a long time. It won’t let go of everything all at once, and that’s not weakness. That’s survival.”
I nod in response.
“There’s just a little more. Once it’s all out . . . you’ll help me make sense of it, right?”
Dr. Klein’s expression softens. She doesn’t rush to speak.
“That’s not something I’ll do for you, Spencer; but it’s something we’ll do together. You’ve already done the hardest part: letting the truth surface.”
She pauses, letting that land.
“When you’ve finished, we sit with it. Let the dust settle. And when you’re ready, we can start shaping what comes next.”
I lick my lips, bracing myself. It’s going to take everything that I have, to stay in detail and not skip ahead. This part . . . it’s probably the hardest for her to understand; and the hardest for me to explain. Because honestly? There are still gaps. Parts I don’t fully understand myself.
On the night of our graduation, I surprised Sophie by taking her to dinner alone.
It was the first time in months that we’d been alone on a date.
Neither of us seemed to crave time for ourselves, including Carlo seemed perfectly natural.
He was central to every facet of our relationship.
And yet, as our server cleared our dinner plates, I was nervously excited to take her to the hotel room I’d booked for us, alone.
Once I’d paid for our meal, she thanked me and naturally walked toward the exit.
I caught her around the waist, changing her direction.
She quizzed me, but I didn’t reply, instead giving her a cheeky wink.
In all honesty, I don’t think I could have spoken. The nerves about what I was just about to do were exploding in my gut. I just needed to get her alone.
I led her to the elevator and scanned the keycard I had hidden in my pocket on the sensor. The doors slid closed, and I backed her up against the wall. Unable to resist her.
She was wearing a dress that flaunted her fantastic tits. Trailing my fingertips down the deep V of her cleavage, I told her how much I’d been struggling and answered her previous question all at once.
“Your little dress has been taunting me all evening. I haven’t finished celebrating with you yet,” I whispered against her lips.
When the elevator doors slid open, I think she was expecting a dingy hotel corridor. Her expression when a beautiful sitting room with gorgeous views overlooking the Thames appeared was therefore priceless.
She glanced up at me with a shocked but quizzical look on her face, intrigued about where we were.
We stepped into the modern space, decorated with a color palette of soft natural shades featuring accents of blue in scatter cushions and pictures.
The room was calming. I could well imagine a hotel guest sinking into these plush, comfortable sofas after experiencing the hustle and bustle of the city below.
Carlo, who was in on the plan, had organized a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne, and as she drifted toward the view, it caught her eye.
I’d studied her and preempted her swiveling back to me to ask what was going on. When she turned, I was on one knee with a ring box in hand.
Her cheeks flushed instantly, and her eyes grew wide as if she could barely believe what was happening.
I saw her peer inside the box lined with deep blue satin, as if she needed to check it was a ring.
Meanwhile, my heart had stopped beating. I was so freaking nervous that she’s going to call me ridiculous and tell me we were too young.
I heard her breath catch when she saw the huge but simple teardrop diamond ring that Carlo and I had chosen for her.
“Sophie, I love you. You are—without a doubt—the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, inside and out.
I still haven’t figured out what I did to deserve you .
. . but I thank the universe every day that we met.
I can’t promise a traditional life, or even a picture-perfect marriage.
But I can promise you, my love. Always. No matter where life takes us. Will you marry me?”
Overcome, she gazed down into my eyes, my still heart in my throat. Even though we were young, I was certain I’d never love anyone else the way I loved and still love her.
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears as I slid the gorgeous engagement ring onto her finger.
I can’t tell you how relieved I was. It seemed as though all my Christmases had come at once. I couldn’t believe she’d agreed to marry me. Not Carlo. Me.
After our engagement, I was eager to marry Sophie as fast as possible.
The last two years had been incredible, but I was anxious. I didn’t want her to wake up one day and realize I wasn’t enough for her. No matter how often she told me she loved me.
At the back of my mind, I understood even then how perfect she and Carlo were for each other, but I also was aware my friend wouldn’t marry.
Since introducing him into our bed, Carlo still experienced moments of guilt for the relationship he’d forged with my girlfriend.
His affection for Sophie wasn’t about sex; Carlo was developing genuine feelings for her, and I believe that was part of the reason for the conversation he raised briefly while out running one morning.
“Sophie seems happy,” he observed.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, intrigued to learn where this conversation was going.
“I hope so,” I replied.
The sound of our feet on the tarmac was all I heard for a few more steps, we were only a hundred yards from our building when he spoke again.
“It’s time for me to step back.”
My feet stopped moving, his words hanging in the surrounding air.
“What? Why?”
My demand was aggressive, my tone sharp. So familiar with keeping pace with me, he automatically halted beside me. His hands rested on his muscular thighs as he panted, catching his breath.
“Don’t be obtuse; you know why,” he objected, glaring up at me, as if challenging me to disagree with him.
“Spence, if Chess were still alive, you’d have done the same thing.”
I stared at him, and even though only moments before my exertion from our exercise had me gasping for breath, with this revelation my lungs held still.
“We always knew this would happen. I can’t walk away entirely, but it’s only fair that Sophie’s given the choice.”
My ears rang with his words as he led me to the elevator in our building.
“I’m not ready,” I whispered.
He crowded me against the wall of that elevator faster than I could think, his mouth closing on mine in a hungry, passionate kiss that made all my nerve endings stand up.
“I’ll never be ready, Spence.”
The announcement of my engagement shocked my parents. My father’s disappointment in my choice of wife was abundantly clear. That he even believed he had the right to an opinion galled me. Though I still didn’t quite have the confidence to walk away.
Mum was more excited, probably at the thought of a grand party. She presented Sophie with the name of a fancy wedding planner, telling my fiancée that she’d draw up a list of guests.
I immediately tried to object, but in typical Mum fashion, she didn’t hear me.
Aside from planning our wedding, our lives were busy.
I was in the middle of setting up my investment business, and Sophie found a job working in the HR department of a graphic design company.
Personally, I would have preferred her to work with me, but she insisted on establishing her own career while keeping a shred of independence from me.
Hoping to tempt her, I frequently engaged her in conversation about setting up the HR administration side of my business.
Carlo teased me, claiming I was obsessed with my fiancée, but it wasn’t true; I just didn’t want her to meet another man and realize she could do better.
A few days after our painful meal with my parents. Mum emailed us her wedding guest list. Her added missive noted that ‘Hello Magazine’ was negotiating to cover the event, and my heart sank.
While reviewing the extensive guest list, which was mostly full of unfamiliar individuals, I looked for the two people I was certain would be included.
Sure enough, hidden halfway down the third page were Alonso and Gina Moretti. The sight of their names told me it was beyond time to make my break.
Furious. I reached for my phone; it buzzed with Sophie’s designated ringtone.
“Have you seen your mother’s email?” She demanded in a tone that sounded dangerously close to excited.
Shit. Was she getting swept away with the concept of having this fairytale wedding?
“Yes,” I replied, keeping my word clipped, so that I didn’t give too much away.
“Spence, there’s fucking royalty on this list!”
I rolled my eyes, leaning back heavily in my chair.
“Yes,” I confirmed, unimpressed with my parent’s connections.