Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Remy
I don’t want to overstay our welcome or let things get weird.
I give Erik the let's go nod.
“Hey, we’re going to head out, give you guys some space,” I offer.
Meg looks at me and jumps to her feet. “Wait. Can you do us a solid? Well, another one?”
“Of course.”
“Christianna, where are your keys?” she calls over her shoulder as she heads toward the house where their purses are.
“Outside pocket,” Christianna calls back. She's stretched out on the grass with the dogs.
I follow Meg. “What’s up?”
“She had a flat tire when we came out today. Can you either change it or get it fixed?”
I hold out my hand. “On it. Text me when the furniture gets here if you need help.”
“I will. Thank you for everything today. I know she’s overjoyed.”
I glance back.
Christianna has stood to say goodbye to Erik. He initiates the hug.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him voluntarily touch anyone other than her.
We head out, and once we’re in the truck he turns to me.
“See how well this could work?”
I don’t answer. I’ve thought of little else since our conversation earlier. I start the engine and point us back toward the Opera House.
Her little Toyota sits where she left it, listing slightly to one side.
I take the keys and head for the trunk to check the spare.
When I come back with it, Erik is crouched beside the car, eyes narrowed.
“Someone slashed it,” he says.
I step closer. A clean slice in the sidewall, deliberate.
I look around. No cameras in the side lot.
I exhale slowly. I will have to rectify that.
I jack up the car and start removing the tire, my mind drifting back to the look of pure joy on Christianna’s face when she saw the Drops.
I turn over what Erik presented earlier, framed as fait accompli. It doesn’t bother me the way I expected it to. Seeing him hug her didn’t spark jealousy. If anything, I felt a quiet pride.
Erik doesn’t touch easily. He never has. Music has always come first. Everything else tended to fall away unless it served that focus.
I don’t think he’s ever been with a woman. Not because he couldn’t, but because nothing had ever mattered enough to pull him out of his own orbit.
Finishing up the tire, I look up to find Erik engrossed in his phone.
“What are you looking at?”
He doesn’t look up.
“Issues with polyamory. I’ve reviewed them. Most revolve around partner turnover or jealousy. Those don’t apply to us. The other is social stigma. That may be an issue for Christianna.”
“You don’t think it would be for me?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“No. People have thought we were gay for years and you never cared. I don’t see why this would be different.”
I consider it. I’d ignored the assumption, mostly because I knew it wasn’t true. The question is whether it would bother me if it were.
“You didn’t want us to be in a relationship, did you?” I ask, bracing myself, unsure if I’m ready for the answer.
His glance is dismissive. “No. I would have told you if I wanted to fuck you.”
I’m chagrined, unsure whether I should feel relieved or offended.
“Have you ever wanted to with anyone?”
I must look as uncomfortable as I feel, because he smirks.
“No. Until Christianna, nothing was worth stepping away from my music. My hand was sufficient.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s sorting something.
“She makes me feel things. It’s disruptive. I ignored it.”
He exhales once.
“I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want this to be temporary.”
That gets my attention. “Temporary how?”
“Sex. Proximity. Attachment. Caring.”
I stare at him. “You’re talking about a relationship.”
“I’m talking about a family,” he corrects. “With her. With you.”
“With me?”
“Yes. I know I’m selfish. When I don’t want to give, you can. You always have.”
I just stare at him. “No pressure or anything.”
When there is no reply, I sigh. “Let’s go get a new tire.”