My Heart

Would she snap at me to leave, ask if I was mentally ill?

I can’t risk it.

“Shall we get going?” she asks. “I know I said we didn’t have to leave right away. But being here sometimes… It reminds me of her. This place didn’t look so miserable when Lisa was here. I should really get a one-bedroom place. The rent is killing me. But that would mean letting the memories go…”

She sighs. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all this.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” I repeat, but my voice is a deep growl this time, fueled by the notion that my woman ever needs to say sorry for feeling sad.

Standing, I make for the door. Tamia grabs a small bag from the entranceway and shrugs it over her shoulder. I wait in the hallway as she locks up, and then we walk down the stairs together.

The stairwell is narrow, our shoulders almost touching.

Her scent tempts me to step even closer. There’s some subtle perfume, but mostly it’s just her, as though we’re animals and she’s sending me signals to claim her, to own her, to dominate her.

Forever.

“How are the rest of your family?” Tamia asks as we walk across the street to my car.

She tilts her head slightly when she sees my vehicle, a brand new sedan with slightly tinted windows. It stands out on this street, where all the other cars look rundown, as though on the verge of disintegrating.

“It’s only us,” I tell her, as I open her door.

“Thank you.”

She climbs inside.

I walk around to the driver’s side and drop into my seat.

“Where’s her mom, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I glance at her as I start the engine. She’s staring straight ahead, her hands clasped together, as though she’s struggling to withhold something. It’s the same way I’m struggling to withhold a thousand longings threatening to take hold of me each moment.

But I’m sure hers stem from something different. Her grief. Her sense of surrealness at this very situation.

“You can punch the address into the GPS.” I nod toward the dashboard.

She quickly does so, and then we’re ready.

As I pull into traffic, I tell her, “Her mom died a decade and a half ago. Alexis was only five. I never remarried. I don’t have a girlfriend. So yeah, just us.”

I try to gauge her reaction to me not having a girlfriend, but it’s difficult to tell. She’s staring straight ahead, as though not willing to meet my gaze. I watch her hands clench together, my hunger making me imagine her hand grasping my throbbing length instead, squeezing as she strokes up and down my shaft.

“Her friends are happy for her,” I say. “Well, that’s an understatement. I can’t tell you how grateful we both are, Tamia, for what your friend did. She gave Alexis her life back.”

“I know that would make Lisa smile,” Tamia murmurs. “It’s like I said. She always wanted the best for everyone. Knowing she was able to save someone’s life… she’d probably say it was worth it. In fact, I know she would. That’s the sort of person she was.”

I nod, already looking forward to telling Alexis all this. She’s been tense about meeting with Lisa’s family ever since she emerged from her operation. I know she wants to – to show her gratitude – but she hasn’t been able to shake the idea that they’ll hate her.

“She’s going to love meeting you,” I say quietly. “And hearing stories about Lisa. And…”

I trail off, wondering if I’m going too far.

But the idea of my woman – and she is my woman, even if it should make no sense – not being able to pursue her hobby makes me want to beat my chest like the wild beast she’s making me.

“I want to help you,” I go on. “I know nothing will ever bring your friend back. I’m not sure if I should even make this offer. I want you to know, this isn’t payment. But, if you accept, I’d like to help you with all the photography equipment you need. I know how expensive it can be. The software alone…”

“Really?” She looks up at me, biting her lip, making the base of my cock ache. “You’d do that?”

“Yes, without question.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

I smirk. “Just say yes.”

“I don’t like owing people. And I wouldn’t be able to pay you back. Since Lisa, it’s been paycheck-to-paycheck for me.”

“You don’t have to pay me back. I want you to be able to enjoy your hobby. Alexis told me once that photography made the world more manageable. It puts up a barrier between you and the world. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, completely,” she says passionately. “I couldn’t have described it better. When you’re focused on the shot, there’s nothing else, just the composition, just that moment. I’ve been trying… I mean, my phone’s got a camera. I’ve got an old one I bought at a yard sale. But the pictures always look…cruddy.”