Chapter 19
HOLLISTER
The rainy weather passed hours ago. The time passed quickly with sex, eating, napping, a shower somewhere in there, and more sex. Even though the storms outside have passed, the one inside me is still raging.
Barbara is nestled against me, her head on my chest, our legs entwined beneath the blanket.
The observatory is quiet, save for the soft hum of the telescope and the distant rumble of the retreating storm.
The stars above us shine brightly, filtering through the glass dome.
We lay on the oversized lounge in this small space at the end of the house.
There’s so much I want to say, but it all comes out wrong in my head. When you’re with a woman full of power and grace, that brings you to your knees, nothing sounds adequate.
I stroke her hair. The strands are soft and silky against my fingers.
She sighs contentedly, making me feel like I’m whipped or a sucker for being with this beautiful woman.
But now that my cock is drained, my balls empty, and probably not able to produce anything for days after so much sex, my mind is throbbing.
I exhale slowly, pressing a kiss into her hair. She stirs, dark eyes looking at me now.
“That sounded heavy.”
“Yeah. I guess it did.”
It has to be talked about. Needs to be brought up after we spilled our guts in the range about our truths.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Dom.”
“Oh.”
She sits up, stealing the blanket to cover more of herself, despite my knowing every inch of her. I sigh again. My dread reflects on her face. I sit up too, my arm wrapping around her shoulders. The warmth from our bodies hasn’t left the blanket, but suddenly the air feels colder.
“He’s going to find out. Eventually..”
She doesn’t respond, just looks up at the stars.
As if they have answers. I really take her in.
That classic beauty, the poise, even in her vulnerability.
Here at my estate, cocooned in the discretion and privacy she wanted, she’s just Barbara.
And all mine. But back home in Boston, she’s someone else. Someone aloof and untouchable.
Definitely off limits.
She’s Dominic’s mom.
It suddenly feels like a ticking clock in the back of my mind.
“I’ve thought about that.”
That elegant chin of hers, the one I love to hold, tips downward. Like she’s bracing for the inevitable fallout with me. For the firestorm we both know is coming. Her hand drifts up to her neck, twisting the worn leather necklace around her index finger.
“About what it’ll mean. For him. For you. For me.”
She looks over at me with a blank expression.
“And I still didn’t stop. I still came here to be with you. I knew exactly what I was doing the moment I stepped into the car you sent. Still did everything we did, despite you expressing your worries at different times.”
“I don’t regret a second of it.”
My voice is rough but sure. I don’t want this to end. I want her, and I want my best friend.
“I don’t want to blindside him. Or lie, Babs.”
“I know.”
Her eyes drop to someplace where the blanket still covers us. Where our bodies are pressed together, naked. In a way only lovers know.
“He’s been lied to so much by his father . . .”
She doesn’t tell me, but I suspect it’s there. Somewhere in all the crap between them, lies are a part of their problem.
“I don’t want my son to hate me.”
She lifts tear-filled eyes to me. I pull her closer and rest my chin on the top of her head. The reality of what we’ve done. What we’re doing is weighing on both of us.
“He won’t.”
I pause. The realization is more horrible than I want to acknowledge. Something I’ve shoved away every time it’s come up.
“He’ll hate me.”
It fucking kills me to admit the truth. Saying it out loud makes my stomach turn to stone. Makes me sweat. As if he’s here and able to walk right in and catch up. My heart thunders away, hammering into my temples.
She looks up sharply, mouth parts to argue, but stops. Because we both know it’s true. If there’s a cost to this, I’m the one to pay it. And I’d do it again. For her. For this. But only if we last.
I can’t lose him.
Can’t lose her.
I’d be gutted.
“Are we being selfish?”
Her question hangs between us. Stiff and real. My instinct is to say yes. The decision was made every time we texted. Showed up at her tennis club, challenged her to a match, and chased after her in the parking lot. Then the gallery, the flirting, the kissing, and the hand job in the back garden.
Yes.
I selfishly pursued her. Not as a conquest like other girls, but as a challenge to myself, because I felt worthy of someone at her level.
Wanted her to see me as an equal in a sense.
To steal from her regalness forged from steel nerves.
Hard fought and rightfully earned by society’s standards.
Not inherited by legacy and name, such as mine.
“It’s hard to answer.”
It’s all I can say.
All I want to say.
Admitting I was selfish is too volatile at this moment. A crushing confession to the delicate situation, this is. If I admit to it, we’ll be over, and she’ll be out of here. Calling for the car service she had so easily mentioned in the range hours ago.
She stiffens when I say it. The seam that sticks our bodies together suddenly breaks open when she shifts away. I scramble to stop this from spiraling out of control. From ending too quickly, as I have done all weekend long.
“Did Dom ask you if he could date that profiler? Did he call you to talk it over? Tell you how they met and get your permission?”
Her mouth settles into a deep frown. We all know Dom does whatever the hell he wants with no regard for others. Putting this all back on him is a cheap shot. But I’m desperate to keep her here.
“He had tons of chances to do so. Hell, he could have even brought her to the gallery opening. Made introductions or at least made it official by being seen with her. The papers would have soaked it up. But he didn’t. Because Dom doesn’t give a shit.”
My hand tightens around her shoulder, drawing her body back into mine. She collapses into me. My excuses are working, even if I feel like an asshole for blaming him.
“Why should he be happy and not you? Haven’t you earned this, Babs? Don’t you deserve the support, connection, and care that he’s getting from his girlfriend?”
She’s listening. Soaking in every word, yet looking off in the distance.
Here with me and somewhere else at the same time.
It’s not often that she leaves herself this unguarded, but it happened in the lounge the night she cried.
I guess it’s the memories I’ll never know about that built her into a woman I madly respect.
She nibbles on her lower lip. My words keep seeping into her consciousness. Doing something. Doing enough to keep her still and silent.
“It’s hard putting myself first.”
It’s an honest admission.
One might think that her whole life is lived for herself.
Yet, I know it’s for appearances. It’s to fill time and loneliness with charitable activities, bringing her the love and attention that every person needs.
It’s the only place she can feel needed.
No one in her family needs her anymore. That is clear.
“I’d imagine it is.”
She speaks from places that I can only see from the outside. Places I haven’t been, and by the looks of it, I don’t want to go there.
Divorce is ugly.
I’ve seen too many of my friends’ parents break up.
Only to move on to second, third, and fourth marriages in search of what, I don’t know.
My parents are still together. Whether they are happy or not is their business, but other than my father riding my ass about law school next semester and thinking my sketching is a childish hobby, we all get along.
“I feel guilty. But I want this. I do deserve something for myself. Something that’s not for everyone else.”
I reach for her hand beneath the blanket, threading my fingers through hers.
“And I’m happy that something is me.”
Her head tilts to my shoulder, completely melted into me. I bury my face in her hair, kissing the top of her head again. Breathing her in.
The silence between us is still heavy. Although we share many worries, we are in this together now. So much has transpired in the last twenty-four hours since arriving here. I know I’m forever changed. I think she is too.
She releases my hand, wrapping the blanket tighter over both of us.
The temperature in the room is still cool against our backs.
My fingers trace along the outside of her arm, wondering if she feels the same pull in her chest that I do.
I don’t know how to protect this. How to protect her.
How to protect Dom. How do I keep myself from unraveling when I lose one to keep the other?
For a second, I imagine this is what my life could feel like with her.
Law school in Boston. Weekends here in the Hamptons or at our house in the Cape.
Maybe a month in Europe. Eating, drinking, and having sex in every country.
Before the fantasy can root itself into travel plans and places I want to show her, a sound cuts through the silence.
A knock, soft but insistent. We freeze. The door creaks open an inch.
“Forgive the interruption, Mr. Harrington.”
Sterling’s voice carries through, gentle and apologetic. He doesn’t step in fully. Just hovers near the edge, eyes respectfully lowered. I sit up a little, but don’t move to cover myself. It’s not like he hasn’t seen worse.
“Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. I held off, but the most recent message appeared urgent.”
He steps inside, places my phone on the low table beside the telescope, then turns without waiting for a reply. I catch the way his eyes flick toward Babs, then away. A gentleman, always. Which makes me feel all the more like a bastard.
The door closes softly behind him. I stare at the phone like it’s a bomb about to go off. My hidden world collapses.