15. Michael
Michael
“ T ell me what’s bothering you,” I say to Vivian once we’re inside my car. It’s cooled off enough that we don’t need to run the air conditioning, even with the windows up. Without the engine running, it’s as quiet as a library, only our breaths breaking the tense silence.
“It can wait til we get back,” she says, looking out the window and refusing to look at me.
“No, it can’t.” I grip her chin and make her face me.
“We’re not going anywhere until we get this cleared up.
” Her eyes look so open and lost and vulnerable.
I’ve seen many expressions on her face but not this.
She’s almost… resigned? “Talk to me, mi amor,” I say in a softer tone, my thumb caressing her chin. “Don’t shut me out.”
With a sigh, she glances at her hands in her lap, then back up at me.
“So Janice and I were talking,” she starts, her voice low and quiet, but calm.
I raise my eyebrows. Janice is like my kid sister, so I can’t imagine her saying anything bad to Vivian.
“She had a lot of good things to say about you,” she quickly adds.
“Mmhmm…” I encourage her to keep going.
“And she said you have these really high standards. Which I’d already kinda figured out about you.”
Okay … So my standards are what’s bothering my woman? This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had, and I’m struggling to see what has Vivian so upset.
“And, well, we… you and me… we never really talked about our pasts. Before we... you know…”
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to figure her out.
We’ve talked plenty about our childhoods, how we grew up, and the kind of support—or not—that we had.
It was one of the ways I could relate to her, because we both knew what it meant to struggle; sometimes not knowing where your next meal was coming from or if the lights were gonna be shut off.
Thank heavens neither of us are in that situation now, and that’s one thing I never take for granted. So where is she going with this?
Vivian blows out a breath so hard that her curls fly up in the air. “Okay, there’s no easy way to say this, but… we never talked about past relationships. About the partners we’ve had—”
“Stop right there.” I halt her words, pressing my finger to her mouth firmly. “This is what you’re so worked up about?”
She nods, eyes flashing angrily at me in protest, her fire rising to the surface. That fire I’ve fallen in love with.
“I don’t want to hear anything about any previous relationships. Zero. Do you hear me?”
She stares at me, unblinking, irritation giving way to confusion.
I don’t like it. I want her— need her—to understand what I’m saying and smooth the frowns out of her pretty forehead.
I frame her face with my hands, keeping her head still so she can’t look away.
So that I can hold her this way, even this little bit, even if she’s keeping me at arm’s length.
I can’t stand the idea of anything being in between us. No distance, not emotional or physical.
“Listen, do you want to hear about my sexual exploits? Details of women I’ve been with before?” I huff out. She pauses, then slowly shakes her head. “Then anyone before me—before us—doesn’t matter,” I tell her, my tone low but gentle as my thumb traces the outline of her jaw.
“You can’t be serious,” she says, her eyes fixed completely on mine.
“I’m dead serious.” More strokes of her soft as silk skin.
“You’re saying you don’t care about my past, what I’ve done, my exes…” She trails off as I hold her head steady with both hands and press our foreheads together.
“No, Vivian, I don’t care about any of that. Because they’re exes, or hookups, or whatever, for a reason.” And that’s where I see it, the part that’s bothering her. The hookup part. She flinched when I said that word. If that’s what’s bothering her, then I’ll clear it right up as I continue.
“The only thing I care about from your past is how it affects you right now. I don’t care how many people you’ve been with, and I especially don’t want to know anything about them. We’re both not new to this game. That doesn’t matter to me, and I sure as hell hope it doesn’t matter to you.”
She looks at me guardedly, and I realize I’m not quite getting through to her. Breathing in, I choose my next words carefully.
“I don’t believe in regrets. What we’ve done in our lives has brought us another step closer to meeting each other, to what we have right here, right now.
There’s no judgement in that. God knows I’m not a perfect man.
” I sigh hard. “I’ve done so much in my past I’m not proud of.
You know that. I’ve shared those stories with you. ”
She nods, remembering those same conversations where I opened up about my troubled years in high school.
“But if I let my past hang over me, I’m never going to get anywhere.
I’m always going to be second-guessing myself and worrying about someone finding some dirt on me.
And I can’t live like that. I can’t grow with that hanging over my head.
So if your past lovers—or whatever you want to call them—are what’s bothering you right now, then just let it go. It doesn’t matter.
“What we did before has brought us to this place, right here, right now, together. And that’s all I’m interested in.
You have me, completely, one hundred percent devoted to you, and there’s nothing that can change that unless it’s you walking away.
Which I think would kill me.” I sit back, closing my eyes, not wanting to consider that option for a second.
If this is what’s been stressing her out, no wonder she’s been off all evening.
I feel her heat before she even touches my hand. Opening my eyes, I gaze directly at her so she can see me, see everything. That it’s hers if she wants it. I’m hers. No matter what. Please don’t break my heart, mi amor .
Her voice is quiet but wavers when she says, “So you’re saying you don’t think less of me? Because I was afraid you would, after Janice telling me what kind of person you are.” Tears well up in her eyes, but she doesn’t look away from me, not for a moment. My strong, fierce, vulnerable woman.
Is that what is the root of all this turmoil? That I would somehow respect her less?
I hate that she feels this way for even a minute, hate whatever or whoever made her feel unworthy, anything less than the perfection she is.
I know what it’s like to let other people’s thoughts take up space in your head.
And how hard it is to fight that narrative.
God knows I’ve been working on that myself.
And if she’ll let me, we can work on changing our narratives together.
I take her face in my hands and place a tender kiss on her nose.
“You,”
I kiss her left cheek.
“Are,”
Her right.
“Exactly,”
Her chin.
“What,”
Her forehead.
“I’ve been looking for.”
I softly kiss her mouth. Her eyes close, those watery tears building on her eyelashes, and I brush them away with a tender touch.
As they slowly open, the green of her irises is more pronounced than I’ve ever seen it.
She’s just so damn beautiful. Beautiful and broken, at least according to her.
And I make it my mission here and now to change that. I’ll make her see what I see.
“We’re imperfect people, but you are perfect for me, Vivian.
I just want to be what you need. What you want, what you desire.
Everything before now has brought us one step closer to finding each other.
And I could never resent what brought you to me.
There’s nothing that could change that, mi amor.
I don’t care about your past, and I hope you don’t care about mine.
I only care about our future. Together.” And with that, I claim her mouth fully, trying to pour all my love—because clearly that’s what this is—into our kiss.
I want her to feel how she’s taken my heart, my soul, everything that is in me.
I’ve waited so long for her and I’m never letting go.
Vivian
A soft snore at my back reminds me that Michael has been sleeping soundly all night.
Whereas I have not.
I’ve been running through his words all night long, tossing and turning them in my mind like puzzle pieces that shouldn’t work, but he makes them fit.
Makes it sound so easy. He didn’t make light of my feelings, my emotions.
Instead he reassured me that they wouldn’t stand in our way.
I’m trying to figure out if this guy is for real or what.
His admissions sound a lot like love, even though he’s not used those exact words, and his absolute refusal to delve into past relationships has completely upended my world.
We got home, and Michael made love to me so tenderly, so deeply.
His hands roamed over my body, every part of us touching, taking my eyes captive as he brought us to ecstasy.
Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was trying to imprint himself inside me.
As if he thought I would escape if he left any part of my skin unmarked by his mouth.
His soothing voice murmured delicious words in Spanish against my ear as I came again and again, words I couldn’t understand but nevertheless translated to my soul.
“I don’t care about your past. Only your future. With me.”
I swear that man tried to burrow his way into my soul last night.
The words keep reverberating through my head, and honestly, through my heart. Could it really be that simple? Could all the past guilt, shame, and regret be wiped away with just a few words? If my past doesn’t bother him, then why should I let it keep bothering me?
Is this what grace looks like? A blank slate, a chance to start over?
Whether I deserve it or not. Whether I’m perfect or not.
Michael says I’m perfect for him.
Is he right? And if that’s what he believes, do my doubts even hold water?
I don’t know what time he finally passed out, our arms and legs intertwined and my head on his muscular chest as he softly stroked my hair.
My mind kept me awake, reflecting on everything he’d said.
But as I snuggle in deeper to the strong arms encircling me, listening to the thumps of his heartbeat, an incredible sense of peace washes over me.
No matter what happens, I will forever be grateful to this man for releasing me from the turmoil of my past decisions.
I’m choosing to accept the gift of his affection, for however long it lasts.
I might not deserve it, but I’m going to believe that I do.
I’m choosing to live free of regrets. And I’m choosing him. Us.
Inhaling his scent that is the perfect combination of crisp citrus and uniquely him, I sigh contentedly. He makes me feel protected, safe. Who would’ve thought that you could burn with desire and still feel so grounded at the same time?
Instinctively, I press a small kiss to his forearm wrapped around my chest. “Buenos dias, carino,” he rumbles next to my ear.
I startle for a moment. “I–I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You can wake me up anytime.” Michael’s hand trails from my shoulder down my arm until he reaches my wrist, then entwines our fingers together.
“I love your sexy body in my bed.” My shoulders tense and he notices.
Every time he starts off with “ I love ,” it feels like he’s trying to impart something more.
Like the real meaning of those three little words.
After last night, those words hold even greater weight.
Part of me is terrified to hear it, but part of me craves it too. I’ve accepted that I’m falling for him hard , but there’s a difference between saying you’re falling for someone versus telling them, “I love you.” There’s no way this can really be love, not in this short span of time, right?
Things just don’t happen like that in real life.
“How did you sleep?” Whether he realizes it or not, he’s changing the subject and I’m grateful.
“I got a little bit of rest,” I tell him truthfully.
Michael searches my eyes, brow furrowed as if he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“For the little bit of actual sleeping we did,” I tease.
His face relaxes at that, his expression turning positively devious as he releases my hand and starts to trail his fingers over my stomach.
His thumb runs lazy circles over my belly button.
His fingers glide down my abdomen and my breath hitches.
“Forgive me,” he whispers in my ear, nipping and kissing at my earlobe before dragging his tongue and teeth down my neck.
“For–for what?” My voice is barely a whisper as his hand continues to roam further south. Goosebumps cover my skin as my entire body throbs at his words and his touch.
“For not letting you sleep in,” he replies, capturing my mouth in a soul-stealing kiss. His tongue is not apologetic whatsoever as he angles our bodies closer, his hand moving between my thighs. As he works me into ecstasy before claiming my body yet again, I realize I’m not at all upset.