71. Chapter 69
Emery
I chew the side of my finger as I stare at the screen, still a little shocked that all those words came out of me and that I actually hit send.
My fingers itch to delete the message, but there’s no point, because it has already changed to Read status.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have sent that to this internet stranger. Sure, they’ve had an up-close-and-personal look of my pussy milking a purple cock, but that was different. Transactional.
This is intimate. This is personal.
This is my life.
All the messy details, right there, on a screen for some random person to read.
But…the utter relief from sharing everything with someone who is unbiased in this situation is making me lightheaded. Like, maybe they can take the weight of all the decisions I need to make. Or at least help me organize my thoughts on this entire thing.
Finally—fucking, finally—a bubble appears and a message quickly follows.
EyesOnYou: That is a lot to deal with. What part is causing you the most stress?
I laugh, a watery-sounding thing, then take several attempts at a reply before I hit send.
Me: All of it, if I’m honest. It’s turned itself into a knotted ball of wool in my head, and I can’t seem to find the ends.
EyesOnYou: Before I start handing out sage advice, was this a venting session, or would you like help unraveling your ball of wool?
The relief I was feeling from simply getting it off my chest is nothing compared to the tsunami that floods my body as EyesOnYou offers to fix my problems for me.
Me: Help unravel, please x
EyesOnYou: Okay, baby, I can help you with that.
EyesOnYou: My first question is, do you want it to be over with them? The answer to this question will help with the rest of the issues.
EyesOnYou: If you do want it to be over, then yes, I would recommend sending the termination letter as your friend suggested. This will ensure that everyone knows exactly where they stand.
Me: I guess that’s the problem. I thought I did want it to be over. At the time, when I said red, I meant it with every cell in my body.
I pause, because I don’t know how to say this next part. I don’t know what the words are, just the feelings, and I really fucking wish I had my sketch pad so I could draw it and send them the picture.
EyesOnYou: But?
Me: But I miss them.
Me: But I’m also still so mad at them.
Me: They left me. Alone. For weeks. All they had to do was send me one freaking text message to explain what was going on. To trust me to not blow up their lives. Instead, they abandoned me when things got hard after promising me everything.
Me: How can I trust them again after that?
Me: And don’t just tell me to talk to them. I’m not interested in hearing their excuses.
EyesOnYou: Trust is a very tricky thing, especially with relationships of this nature.
EyesOnYou: Sometimes, it is easier to trust someone with your body than with your heart.
EyesOnYou: And if they break your trust, the only way they can rebuild that foundation is if you open the door to it.
Me: I don’t know if I can do that.
EyesOnYou: Okay. How about we look at it in reverse? What would the steps be to terminate things with them? How do you see that looking? Is it something you could put into action tonight?
Tonight? Like, right now? Just draft a message and hit send like I’m asking Oakley if she needs any groceries? What would it even say?
Dear Daddies,
I no longer wish to be your baby girl, effective immediately.
Emery.
My throat constricts from just thinking the words. I’m not sure my thumbs would cooperate with typing them.
Two weeks ago, standing in the foyer of Obsession, when my hurt and betrayal had reached incendiary levels, I’d truly meant it when I’d used my safe word. In that particular moment, I’d been happy to never see them again.
But now, the idea of taking away even the smallest amount of hope that I might still be theirs is like a knife peeling back layers of my skin. But it is something I need to consider.
With trembling fingers, I type out my reply.
Me: No, not tonight. But if I did terminate, I guess I would need to send them something in writing, right?
EyesOnYou: What would you do about the man living with you and the muse contract you signed?
Well, that’s harder to answer. I’d like to think that if I asked Xavier to leave, he would. He implied as much the other night when I asked him about staying. I could also get campus security involved.
As for Darcy, that one is a little harder. We aren’t so far into the contract that it would be hard to break it, but that isn’t the same as removing his muse. I have no idea what it would do to his process or his ability to create, but is that any of my concern?
After everything, do I need to manage his feelings for him? Surely he’s had a muse leave mid contract in the past.
Me: I’d tell my new roommate that he has to leave and get campus authorities involved if required.
Me: And I would contact the artist’s agent and break the contract. Since no money has exchanged hands yet, I wouldn’t need to pay anything back. We’ve only had a few basic sessions so far, and replacing me would be pretty easy.
EyesOnYou: And what about the other two men? Would you need closure with them?
Me: I’m not sure.
Me: There is a very significant part of our lives that intersects. It’ll take years before we are truly out of each other’s lives.
EyesOnYou: Okay, now that you know how to break it off with them, I want you to consider your future. What does it look like? One year from now? Two? Five? Ten?
EyesOnYou: Do you feel happier thinking about your future with them by your side or without them there?
Closing my eyes, I mentally construct my dream future.
The one with the house and the white picket fence and the two cats.
I imagine it as small, just for me. I go to work each day and come home, my fluffy besties waiting for me at the door.
Cooking dinner and then eating it on the couch while I watch reality TV to decompress.
The satisfaction I usually feel is there, but it’s muted, dimmed somehow.
Not dwelling on it, I redesign the house into something a little bigger, more rooms, a darker vibe. With a bed big enough for five, plus my cats. Entering the house after work and slipping back into my baby-girl life. Letting them take care of me. Letting them own me.
A tear leaks out from under my eyelashes and burns a line down my cheek.
I think I have my answer.
Me: Thank you. I think I have my answer.
Before EyesOnYou can reply, I sign out of the app. I don’t think I can handle any more sage advice tonight.