Chapter 20 – Seth #2
“And then Elena…” I let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down my face.
“She came into Sawyer’s life when she was about ten.
I thought… I don’t know. I thought it was what Sawyer needed.
I thought I needed to give her a mom, like she was lacking something growing up without one since her mom passed away. ”
I wonder if Bri is thinking about how terrible this sounds.
“I’m not sure I ever loved her. I think it was the idea of her.
We were married for eleven months, separated for about five or six of those.
Divorce was finalized right before I met you Halloween night.
She said being a stepmom wasn’t what she thought it’d be. ”
Bri stays quiet, but I can see the brief flicker of anger that flares in her eyes.
“I think she liked the doors I opened for her more than she liked being me and Sawyer. Guess I’m not a great husband, either.”
“You’ll love again.” She says it with no hesitancy. Four words that hit me right in the chest because I’m not sure I will. At least, not in the way that I think a woman like Bri deserves to be loved. Without baggage or history that drags them down.
I’m not easy to love. That’s been apparent since Sawyer’s mom, and I first started dating.
I come with two previous, short marriages and a twelve-year-old daughter.
There aren’t a lot of women willing to walk into that plus a schedule that keeps me on the road nine months out of the year.
And that’s okay. I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m not cut out for committed relationships like I thought.
That my focus needs to be on Sawyer and hockey now.
I tend to keep these insecurities locked up inside but the way Bri’s looking at me tonight makes me feel safe to be vulnerable. I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s pretty embarrassing.”
“Why?” she asks softly.
“Because I failed. Twice. And somehow let Sawyer down every time. And I don’t want to fail her again. I feel like I’m constantly messing up and I don’t want her to be scarred, ya know?”
Bri doesn’t say anything.
“But yeah,” I mumble after a few beats, “real marriage isn’t like this.” I nod toward the frozen screen again. “Real marriage is complicated.”
Bri sighs softly, her lips curving into a small, wistful smile.
“Maybe you’re right. Or maybe it can be like this with the right person.
Maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet.
” Her gaze drifts back to the TV, but her eyes are somewhere far away.
“I think that it’s possible for a marriage to remain soft, playful and romantic.
Silly and fun. Not all serious and loud fights.
That’s what my mom always told me to wait for. ”
“Did she ever marry?”
She shakes her head. “No. But she was deeply loved by so many people. Her life was romantic in other ways, even without marriage.”
She rolls onto her back to look at the ceiling. “Every episode,” she whispers, “they end with just basic, old vanilla sex. And I think that’s my favorite part of the whole production.”
“Why?” I ask wanting to know everything about the things Bri finds interesting.
“Because…” Her gaze lowers, her expression turning almost shy as she rolls to her side to face me. “He holds her so tenderly after. And she looks at him like he hung the moon.” Her eyes flicker to mine, and my chest tightens. “And when they come… he always makes sure they come together.”
I swallow hard.
“Maybe that’s the beautiful part to me,” she whispers.
“It’s not all loud screaming, begging for more, dirty talk and trying new kinks while getting spanked until she’s raw.
Well, they do some of that sometimes too.
” Her lips quirk into a small grin. “But it’s more about the reconnection that happens the end of their day.
The reminder of what their marriage was initially built on.
Mutual respect, trust, emotional intimacy and safety. Not just sexual compatibility.”
We stay like that, both of us flat on our backs staring at the ceiling, her words settling into the space between us. The air feels different now. It’s heavier and charged with something I don't have a name for or maybe I do and that's the problem.
If there was ever a moment. This is it. To tell her that she just put language around every single thing I've ever wanted and couldn't figure out how to say.
That when she talks about love like that, like it's something steady and chosen and worth showing up for, she's describing the exact thing I stopped believing I'd ever find.
"Bri," I start. Then stop. Because what if she's right? What if with the right person it doesn't have to be hard? What if the second guessing and the walls and the constant waiting for things to fall apart aren't just who I am, but who I've had to be because of life circumstances?
I don't know how long we lie there after that. Silent. Lost somewhere between what is and what could be. But eventually I push up onto my elbow, reach for the TV remote, and without a word, press play on the screen.
“Seth—”
“Shh.”
I glance at her, giving her a small smile before settling back beside her and throwing an arm around her head, tucking her into my side. Her sweet scent engulfs me and instantly relaxes my restless thoughts.
“Let’s watch the rest together. I want to understand the hype.”
And that’s exactly what we do. In silence.
Two smiles on our faces despite our exhaustion.
Mr. Wellington finishes his wife. Then she sucks him off.
And just like Bri said, the episode ends with the most basic, old-school missionary sex I’ve ever seen.
And I’ll be honest, that wouldn’t have done it for me in the past but watching two people well over a decade older than me with much more success at marriage making love like it’s still their first time, I get it now.
There’s something beautiful about it all.
Mr. Wellington finishes inside his wife and that’s when I hear a soft sniffle. I turn to face Bri, not sure what I’m expecting to find, but the second I see those pretty green eyes shining with tears, I know I’m completely ruined.
“Hey.” I run a finger across her cheek. “You alright?”
And that’s when she does it. She turns her head to face me, she looks up and before I can process what’s happening, she’s kissing me.
It’s soft at first. Like she’s testing the waters. I go still beneath her, my brain short-circuiting as her fingers slide into my hair, curling around the back of my neck. Then, in one smooth movement, she’s climbing into my lap, straddling me on the bed, kissing me like she’s starving for it.
For me.
And God, I let her.
I let her mouth move against mine while every nerve ending in my body lights up.
I feel the softness of her pressing against how hard I already am.
Her hands roam everywhere—my pecs, my arms, my neck, tugging lightly at my hair while her tongue slips against mine.
I kiss her back when my brain comes back online, harder than I should, because the second she touches me I lose every good intention I had walking into this room.
My hands explore her hips, down across her thighs then back up again. Bri’s body is curvy, and so damn soft. It feels good beneath my palms and when I squeeze her ass she lets out a breathy moan against my mouth.
I know this is a bad idea. I know I should stop her. She just finished describing exactly the kind of love she’s waiting for. I know she wants marriage someday. She wants a soft relationship full of passion. I’m not sure I should be the one to give her any of those things.
But then she grinds down against me and the doubts evaporate.
I feel her everywhere. In my chest. My stomach. My cock. My fucking heartbeat. Especially my heart. Like she’s pressing herself directly against it.
I like Bri. I more than like Bri.