Strong Enough

He met my eyes and spoke more firmly. “Come here.”

I made my way toward him, but it wasn’t until I stood right in front of him that he reached for me. Wrapped his arms around my waist. Pulled me close and tipped his forehead onto my chest.

I put my arms around him. His body was warm, but chills swept over my back. Pure happiness flooded me, soaking me right down to the bone. I wanted to say things. Stay with me. Let me hold you all night. I’ll make you feel good. Maybe he wanted to say things too—don’t let me go, I want this with you, show me how.

But a moment later, he ended the embrace and left the room, neither of us saying anything except goodnight.

I got back in bed, but lay awake for what seemed like hours, my mind refusing to shut off. Was Derek still awake? What was he thinking? Would he ask me to go? I thought about everything he’d told me tonight and felt so good that he’d trusted me with his feelings. Even if it hadn’t been exactly what I wanted to hear, at least he’d given me honesty. He’d revealed something to me that he’d never spoken about to anyone. It made me feel like I had something of his, something more precious than clothing or shelter or even time. I had a piece of him no one else had. I had a truth about him no one else knew. I had one of his secrets.

/> I wanted them all.

For the first time, I wanted to know every dark corner of someone’s mind. I wanted to taste every hidden place on his body. I wanted to stay with him.

I wanted not just more, but all.

Frankly, it was a little terrifying.

Twenty-One

DEREK

I was shattered.

Last night had ruined me.

Turning my desk chair to face the window, I looked out at downtown L.A. skyscrapers packed with offices and apartments. Streets congested with traffic. Block after block of businesses, stores, restaurants. Sidewalks full of people. How was it possible, in a city of millions, to feel so achingly alone?

But I did. I had for so long. Having Maxim around for the weekend made me realize it. I’d forgotten how good it felt to have breakfast with someone. Run errands for someone. Kiss someone in the dark.

Having him there made my house less empty. It gave me purpose. It made me feel needed and useful and trusted. I couldn’t stop thinking about that—Maxim trusted me. Had I taken advantage of that last night? Had I used him in an attempt to answer some question about myself? And now that I had my answer—now that I knew—could I walk away from it? Walk away from the one person in the entire world with whom I’d been my deepest, darkest, truest self? The one person I’d entrusted with my secret?

I was scared that I couldn’t, and that fear gripped me as hard as the madness of wanting him. God, how I wanted him.

My stomach hollowed as I thought about last night. It had felt so good. So honest. So intense. I wanted nothing more than to do it again, and again, and again. To feel that closeness with him. To deepen it. Reveal more of myself and discover more of him. But at what price?

Was I really prepared to let go of my fantasy of the perfect life? A perfect family? Had I honestly done everything I could to make it happen? Was I ready to face the censure of my parents and colleagues and strangers and God and myself? Would that really make me happy? Then again, was I going to be happy married to someone I didn’t feel passionate about? Living a life that required me to hide part of who I really was? Forever stifling whatever it was that had made me feel so fucking alive last night? Maybe that would be my punishment. My cross to bear.

At least I’d have a family.

But what about Maxim?

Maxim. So young, so full of life, so ready to take on the world. He had so much to offer and so much to learn. Mistakes to make and successes to celebrate. Personal goals to achieve. He was still in that stage of life where all you thought about was sex, food, and getting ahead. I remembered it well, but it was long behind me.

He’d probably get tired of me sooner rather than later. He’d want to go to clubs and meet industry people and experience being a gorgeous twenty-something in L.A., with their selfies and their Snapchats and their hashtags. I was closer to forty than twenty, I hadn’t been to a club in years, and hashtags could #fuckrightoff. Other than Maxim, I wouldn’t even know how to talk to a twenty-something. What the hell did he see in me anyway? Me, with my gray hair and cracking bones and early Saturday nights. He could have anybody.

And he certainly wouldn’t be thinking about a family in the next few years. But I didn’t want to be fifty and pushing a stroller around the neighborhood. How much longer was I going to wait? Maxim had said he was willing to “see where this goes,” but it didn’t seem right to fuck with his feelings when I knew it couldn’t go anywhere.

You can’t have everything. It’s either short term gratification or big picture goals. Make your choice.

Grimacing, I spun to face my desk again, picked up my phone and made a call.

“Hello?”

“Hey Carolyn, it’s Derek. How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Good. Listen, can I take you to dinner tonight?”