Black Diamond (Obsidian 2)

“Then how about you meet each other halfway?”

“There is no halfway, Jackson. Maybe you need to get your IQ checked.”

“What if she’s not your sub, and you aren’t her boyfriend?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then what are we?”

“Whatever you were before. But you do your Dom stuff without her around.”

“So, you want me to cheat on her?”

“I never said cheat.” He held up a finger like he was correcting me. “A Dom needs control. He needs to be obeyed from beginning to end. You could get what you need from a different arrangement so you don’t feel frustrated with Rome. I’m sure Isabella wouldn’t mind being bossed around again—even if she doesn’t get sex.”

The idea had never crossed my mind. But it didn’t sound so bad. I would love to have someone submit to me again, to not even look me in the eye unless I gave her explicit permission. Rome was far too strong to bow to me—even though I loved that about her. It was a contradiction, one that didn’t make any sense.

“What do you think?” Jackson asked. “It’s a win-win.”

“I doubt Rome would be happy about it.”

“Who said she has to know? You didn’t tell her about Ruin for six months.”

I still didn’t like the idea. “Thanks for trying to help, but I can’t do that.”

He shrugged and leaned back into the chair. “Then, what? How long are you going to mope around for?”

Probably forever. “I don’t know…”

“What is it about this chick? You’ve been exactly the same guy forever. But the second she came into your life, you changed. And even though she’s gone, it doesn’t seem like you’ll go back to who you were. She changed you permanently.”

She did. Now I had a permanent scar on my skin. My lips would always contain her kiss. My hands would always carry her smell. The backs of my eyes were carved with the image of her face. She stole so much from me, and she didn’t even know it. “Yeah, I think she did.”

“And you really can’t make it work with her?” he asked incredulously. “If she’s the one…she’s the one.”

I cared about Rome a great deal, but I wouldn’t go that far. A connection existed between us, and she had my undying commitment. I felt differently toward her than I did with other women. She was special, there was no doubt about it. But I couldn’t give her marriage and kids. I couldn’t give her a house and a picket fence—not when I wanted whips and chains. “She’s not the one. There is no the one.”

Jackson finally gave up. “If it’s really over, you need to move on.”

“I know.”

“The sooner, the better. You know I hate your guts, but I also hate seeing you like this.” He left the chair then rapped his knuckles against my desk, like that was some form of affection. Then he walked out and left me alone with my thoughts.

My thoughts about Rome.

I went to see my mom that Saturday.

Everything was exactly the same. The Harry Potter book was tucked under my arm, it was a sunny day, so she would be sitting on the balcony, and I wore the scarf she knitted for me—the one she wouldn’t remember giving me.

But this time, Rome wasn’t with me.

I didn’t feel nearly as much pain for my mother when Rome was there to share the burden. She made things much easier, even pleasant. I still didn’t know what possessed me to bring Rome in the first place. It was an impulse decision, an action without motivation.

As always, the nurse introduced me to my mother. “Calloway is here to see you. He’s from Humanitarians United, and he’s going to read to you.” She patted my mother on the back then gave us some privacy.

I sat down in the chair, feeling strange wearing a scarf. The pressure around my neck was unusual, but I wore it anyway because it was so special to me. She wouldn’t remember the hours it took to make it. She wouldn’t remember giving it to me. But that didn’t matter.

She stared at me in silence, her eyes taking in my features like she’d never seen me before.

As always, it was a stab to the heart. “I brought the first Harry Potter book. I’ve never read it, so I thought we could enjoy it together.”

Her eyes moved to my scarf. “That’s lovely…” She lifted her hand and pointed several of her fingers in my direction. “The colors look nice on you. The blue brings out your eyes.”

I held her gaze and nodded. “Thank you. Someone special made it for me.” I opened the book to the first page. Just when I began to read, she interrupted me.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere…”

My eyes remained glued to the book, but I felt my hands shake. She’d never said anything like that, not once in all these years. Her mind had slipped away a long time ago, and she’d never given us any hope for improvement.