29. Silas
29
SILAS
I t’s not like the news is unexpected. I’ve been bracing myself for it—not always on a conscious level—and yet, it’s still jarring to hear the words: She’s pregnant.
Of course she is. Graham’s loads are made for breeding. I’ve never seen such voluminous amounts of cum from one person in my life. He thinks he knocked her up over Christmas—although he didn’t say it like that—which means she’s likely known for weeks, and this annoys him.
I shrug like I’m unaffected, sitting across the table from him with our croissants and coffee. “It makes sense she’d want to tell you in person.”
But then he tells me that the rest of their conversation was about me, in the abstract, and I kind of get where he’s coming from. If the pregnancy was the key that unlocked the door to open up about our affair, then yeah—I wish she’d told him sooner, too. I know I’m a distraction for him, but I don’t want to be his burden of guilt, too.
“Do you feel better?” I ask cautiously, because he doesn’t necessarily sound like he does.
He picks at the chocolate pastry in front of him. “I don’t know. A little? I feel bad about keeping the secret for so long. You’ve been wanting me to tell her for awhile.”
“It could only happen when you were ready. And the timing makes sense,” I say. “In retrospect.”
I’m doing a lot of internal work to keep my voice level—keep myself from asking what all of this means for us. I want to know what happens after the baby comes if he even sees us lasting that long. And will there be more babies? More sex with her ? The person who can give him the one thing I can’t.
But that’s not true. She can offer him much more than a womb. She gives him status and legitimacy. She gets him invitations to parties and good committee assignments. She allows him to remain close with his family, and now she’s magnanimously letting him have me, too. I wonder what he’d do if she changed her mind about that. If she forced him to choose.
The thought makes my stomach turn because I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” Graham says, all glittering green eyes and concern.
“I don’t know,” I answer as honestly as I can. He’s become so fucking important to me. So important that there’s a part of me that’s happy for him and Avery. The baby may be the way I lose him, but I know it fulfills a need for him. I don’t think he expects me to be excited about it, hence the question, but I’ll support him if he’ll let me. “What do you want me to be thinking?”
He drops his head and sighs. “Silas…”
I scowl. “Why do you seem depressed? This is what you wanted. It’s not like you kept it a secret.”
“So you’re okay?”
“For the moment,” I tell him. “Are you?”
“I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but I don’t want this to change anything.”
“It’s a little stupid,” I concede, “but my feelings are the same.”
He offers me his hand across the table, and I take it. We look at each other a long time. Finally, he says, “You’re right. I’m not happy. This is tearing me the fuck up.”
I squeeze his hand. He doesn’t curse often outside of the occasional passionate outburst, and I have to assume that’s what this is, too. I don’t ask him to explain. I already understand. I once thought that ending things with him to stop him from torturing himself was the right thing to do. I’ve also wondered if I’ve been selfish for not doing it. But I don’t want to. At all. I want him more, not less, and that’s the barrel I’m staring down, but he’s good at keeping his focus on me while we’re together, and I’ll take quality over quantity.
“How’d she take the news about us?” I ask.
“I think the word for that would ultimately be disappointment.”
“Was she pissed?”
“Hurt? I don’t think she was angry. But I don’t necessarily expect her to always be cool about it.”
“And what’s the plan if she’s not?”
There’s a lot of dancing around here on my part. I think I need him to say it’s you. It’s always going to be you. I know he won’t—he can’t—but the closer I can get him to something like that, the better I’ll feel when we leave the apartment.
“I can’t lose you, Silas,” he says.
That was pretty damn close. A strong sense of relief flows through me. “Who says you will?”
“All these questions—what do you want me to say? It got complicated. It’s been complicated. I’ve been as honest as I can be every step of the way.”
“And I appreciate that more than you know. I don’t want to lose you, either.”
“Does this change anything?” he asks.
“Only if you want it to. Or you need it to.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t.”
“I told you I love you, right? ”
His gaze locks onto mine.
“I plan to back that up.” I stand, still holding his hand, so he stands with me. We meet at the end of the table and wrap our arms around each other. No hesitation, no awkwardness, just the hug that needs to happen—the closeness our bodies feel designed for. Finding his mouth with mine, I kiss him softly. “Congratulations,” I whisper.
“Silas…”
I shake my head at the tone of regret in his voice before kissing him again, harder. Deeper. When I pull away again, he’s breathless, his hands fisted in my t-shirt at my lower back. This is how I know I’ll never get over him. I’ll put up with whatever it takes to keep him in my life just like this. Or as close to this as possible.
I grab his ass, pulling him even closer and kiss him again, more insistently. He gives way for me, welcoming me into every corner of his mouth, his embrace. Emotion and need unfurl between us. My fingertips cling, and my brow creases, the love of it all hitting me too hard, too fast.
“I want us to make a deal,” I say when I break away for a breath.
He freezes and stares at me, emerald flashing through dark lashes.
“Let’s let this be good. Can we do that? Stop looking for reasons it might not be and just let us be this ? Because I think we’re good.”
His throat moves with a rough swallow. “You’ll tell me if you’re not okay?”
I nod, smoothing back a lock of his hair and brushing my thumb across his beauty mark.
“It’s hard for me,” he says. “I want to give you so much more.”
It’s not an I love you, too, but in terms of declarations and under the current circumstances, it hits me directly in the chest. “You’re lucky I’m low maintenance. ”
For the first time since he got here, he grins. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
I press my answering smile to his. We kiss as I pull him close to let him feel me, hard and aching for him. “See?” I say. “Easy.”
I thought Graham was asleep, half beneath me, naked on the couch. It’s dark out, and he’s spending the night because he’s leaving for DC again tomorrow for another three weeks. I was originally working tonight, but when he said he could get away, I traded my shift at Hanover to be with him. I already know how much I’ll miss him. These last two weeks’ worth of mornings have been a tease. I wish it could have been every morning, but my schedule doesn’t always allow that. But it has been most of them.
“Should we go to bed?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling.
I lift my head to look at him, surprised. “Thought you were sleeping.”
“Can’t. My mind’s all over the place.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s nothing you don’t know. What the fuck are the next few weeks gonna be like? Will Avery drink enough water? How many…anyway, you get it.”
“How many what?” I ask.
“Men will you meet,” he says after a few seconds hesitation.
I slide a hand from his chest to his neck and tilt his face toward mine. I kiss him. “You think about that?”
“Not all the time.” He rolls his eyes like he’s annoyed with himself then says grimly, “Sometimes.”
“I don’t,” I tell him honestly.
“I know. And I know you’re careful. I just worry, I guess.”
“I worry about you, too, you know,” I say, deflecting .
He scowls. “Why?”
“Like you’re gonna change. The power’ll start to go to your head?—”
He laughs. “What power?”
“You’ll figure it out at some point,” I say, “And when you do, maybe you’ll turn into someone who won’t like me quite so much.”
“I thought we agreed to let this be good.”
I swear we have to remind each other of that conversation every other day.
“Look,” I say. “You were telling me shit you worry about, I figured the floor was open.”
“Is it weird for you? To have sex with strangers?”
The question pricks my skin and puts my nerves on edge. I wouldn’t mind if he were jealous. I’m even prepared for him to ask me to quit. But I can’t tell what his angle is. I only know there is one. I prop myself up on an elbow, keeping my leg across his. My cock is pressed against his hip and the sensation is stirring, even though this conversation isn’t exactly getting me hard.
“It was weird at first,” I tell him. “I’d never really been with anybody much older than me before. That part’s still kinda jarring sometimes.”
“It’s not always someone new though, right?” he asks.
“No, but a regular for me is someone I’ll see maybe a few times a year.”
“Do you know who they are? Like their real names? What they do?”
I nod.
“But mostly it’s strangers? Like me?”
“You were different,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes again, his expression telegraphing that he thinks I’m full of shit.
I laugh. “You don’t have to believe me, but you were good looking, close to my age, and a virgin. Also, you were kind of a talker with a good story.”
“I guess I’m glad you remember, although sometimes I wish you didn’t.”
“And the sex was really fucking good.”
“I’m never gonna believe you about that, so you can quit saying it.”
Leaning in, I press my mouth to his neck, licking the stubbled skin and closing my lips in a kiss. “Sometimes two people just fit,” I tell him.
I feel his hands on my body, exploring the dips and curves. My dick perks up, making me think we should have moved to the bed when he originally asked. The couch is fun for a couple rounds, but the bed is better for the way I want to spend the rest of the night with him. He can sleep when he gets to Washington.
“Bed,” he whispers in my ear.
“What the fuck am I gonna do without you for the next three weeks?”
“Text me.” His hand moves lightly over my ass. “Call me.”
“Miss you,” I sigh.
“Come see me?”
I grin into his skin. “Maybe.”
“Please,” he says, drawing the word out as he presses our bodies together in a long, slow squeeze.
“Is there enough room on your office cot for me?”
“If you don’t mind sleeping with me inside you.”
I shiver at the thought—at the memory of the night we did exactly that. Repeatedly waking up to being fucked, again and again.
“We’ll make it work,” I promise him.
He hauls me on top of him. “Okay, fuck the bed.”