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She looks at me, waiting for a response. But instead of making a promise I’m not sure I can keep, I kiss her forehead and give her the only thing I can—my worship of her body.
* * *
Three weeks later
There are no deep conversations. In a silent agreement, we’ve left the past locked away in a dark room and focused on the present.
Taylor sleeps at my house almost every night. The intimacy we couldn’t share years ago is finally happening.
Every time she’s in my bed, I learn more about her body. But each morning she wakes in my arms, I glimpse more of her soul, too.
Not having all the answers still drives me crazy, but for now, I have enough to keep her with me because I know she was telling the truth—my father lied about them being together. He never touched her. Every time his name came up, she reacted with disgust, revulsion.
"I was thinking about playing for your patients too," she says, stepping out of the bathroom, gorgeous in a silk robe.
Though she agrees to spend nights with me—because I think, like me, she can’t resist—Taylor keeps her world separate from mine.
She never wears my robe, never acts at ease in my home.
At night, she’s my woman, moaning my name, coming on my cock. But when the sun rises, she withdraws again, refusing even to open the fridge on her own.
I don’t know how to change that. And the longer this goes on, the more anxious I get because soon, she’ll take the blood test to confirm whether she’s carrying my child.
It could have been done weeks ago, but we’ve both avoided it, knowing that the answer could mean our separation.
"What do you have in mind?" I ask, forcing myself to focus on something other than how the silk clings to her hard nipples like a second skin.
"I was thinking of splitting my week—two days with the kids, one with your patients."
"Or you could make it four—one with my patients, three with the kids." I stand up and lower my head to kiss her neck. "Or five," I add, biting her skin. "Three with the kids, one with my patients, and one naked, in my office."
She laughs, but then, as if remembering something, she steps back. "What we have might be temporary. I won’t shape my whole life around you, because if we end this one more time, I’ll be lost all over again."
William
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
"You’ve been moreclosed off than ever, William."
"I always come to see you, Grandma."
"That’s not what I mean. You don’t talk about your life anymore."
"I’ve never been one to talk about my life."
"Are you and Taylor together?"
"Yes."
She makes a displeased face, and I stand up. I come to check on her once a week and call every day. I love Maryann, maybe even more than my own mother, but not even she has the right to interfere in my relationship with Taylor.
"I’m not going to talk about this."
She nods, looking sad, but I feel no desire to share what I’m experiencing.
I kiss her forehead and leave the room, but as I descend the stairs, to my surprise, Sherie calls out to me.
I turn around. I can probably count on one hand how many times she has spoken to me directly. "Yes?"