I'm Not in Love

Tristan giggles, and it sounds so refreshing, I want to drink it. “She does have a forceful personality.”

“Anyway, my theory went like this. The closer you let yourself get to people, the more you lose when they’re gone. And I don’t mean gone, like when somebody changes his mind about wanting to be with you. I mean gone, like when the logging truck slams into your parents’ sedan, and they’re crushed to death.”

He gasps at my bluntness. “I-I see what you mean. Love comes with risks, and life offers no guarantee of permanence.”

“Exactly. And it’s why I tried to hold back from loving you. Eventually, I gave up—I wanted to be with you too much to be disciplined. And I was actually happy about it until…”

“Until Wendy nearly got hit by a car.”

“Yes. Seeing the car a few feet from her reminded me of what losing someone you love can do to your life. And I lost all hope that I could cope with the risk of loving you… and them.”

“So, you said you didn’t love me, hoping I’d stop loving you too, and our relationship would fade away.”

“I figured that neither one of us would be hurt too badly if I denied loving you. But I was wrong, Tristan. Like I said to you in sculpture class, living without you—because of my rash, panicked reaction to fear—was like enduring a slow death.”

“You aren’t the only one who is afraid of loss.”

I’m not sure what he means. “You seem so rational and patient… and ready to forgive. I thought as soon as I admitted my lie, you’d come running back to me. I never expected you to say we were better off apart.”

“I did it because I’m afraid of something too…” Tristan shakes his head as he considers his words. “Unstable people terrify me, and your behavior set off warning bells.”

“How am I unstable?” I never thought of myself that way.

“Everything about you was hot and cold—wanting me one minute and hiding from me the next. I lived with that kind of treatment from my mother, throughout my childhood. She was here one day, gone the next. I don’t want to be with someone I can’t depend on.”

I press him down on the bed and pull his back against my chest, so we’re nestled together. “You can depend on me, Tristan.”

“I wouldn’t be spooning with you if I didn’t believe that,” he replies in a brighter tone than I expect. “I may need an occasional reminder that people have ups and downs—it doesn’t mean they aren’t trustworthy. It just means they’re human.”

I need to have this resolved. I can’t live with a cloud of worry hanging over my head. “So, we understand what went wrong?”

“I do. What about you?”

“I do too,” I reply. Tristan turns to his other side so he’s facing me and presses his silky skin to mine. Then he lifts his chin for a kiss. “Whose idea was having a serious conversation while stark naked?”

“I didn’t know we were going to bed to… to talk,” he explains. “We’re not finished yet?”

“Not quite.” I squirm backward against the wall, gaining several inches of space between us. Then I tilt my head for the proper perspective. “You’re my boyfriend now.” I sound like an angsty teenager making a claim on my crush. But I don’t care—Tristan is mine, and it needs to be stated.

“So far, I like where you’re going with part two of this conversation.” Tristan leans forward and nips my chin playfully. “Please continue.”

“No dating other people.” I refuse to share him.

“That was never even a consideration.”

“And I want you to move in with me.” I try to slip this condition in with the “we’re exclusive” thing, knowing it’s more complicated than that.

“I’ll have to talk to Tara—I’m usually the one to pay the rent here.”

That’s not a no. “We can figure out the minor details later.”

“Money is more than a minor detail for my family,” Tristan says, squeezing my hip for emphasis.

“I get that. And I have an idea for Tara and me to work together—like job sharing my corporate position—starting this summer.” We may have no more secrets, but I’ve never been one to spill my guts to anyone. Nonetheless, I go on. “It’s going to require more planning but working together could be an opportunity for both of us. It’ll increase Tara’s responsibility and salary and will hopefully allow her time for the kids and me some freedom to paint.”

“It’s an interesting idea.”

“That said, I’m not sure about going to law school.”

“Maybe you don’t need to,” Tristan says. “Requiring that you attend law or business school could have been a strategy—your grandmother’s way of shifting your brain’s track from art to business.”

“I sincerely hope I can figure out a way to do both.” I place my hand over his. “I like making future plans with you.”

“If Tara was making bigger money, it would free me up to take more education classes.”

Tristan is thinking about the future too.

“Exactly.”

“Are we done with the serious talk now?” he asks, a touch impatient.

“Why? Do you have other plans for this evening?” Teasing Tristan never gets old.

“I-I really do… because I-I’ve missed being close to you. Know what I mean?”

“I feel closer to you than I ever have to any other person,” I admit, fully aware that Tristan’s mind is on a different kind of closeness.

“Me too, but, uh, I wouldn’t mind getting physically close to you… like, right now.”

“I’m not one to argue with an excellent suggestion.” Intimacy is better with Tristan than it has been with anyone else, but it isn’t the foundation of our bond. “We’re going to have to keep the moaning to a minimum, though. You share a paper-thin wall with Tara.”

“Look at you, so confident you can make me moan,” he taunts.

“Oh, I can’t resist a challenge.”

It’s bliss when Tristan wraps his arms around my neck. And having lost him once because of my own cowardice—and unsure that I’d ever hold him this way again—it feels something like a miracle to be close to him again.

My mood shifts from playful to sober; making love to Tristan is about far more than feeling good. “You believe me, right?”

“That you enjoy a good challenge?” He smirks.

“That I love y-you.” The unexpected sob that rises from my throat is an involuntary blend of relief, thankfulness, and awe.

“Uh-huh, I believe you.” Tristan pulls my face to his and parts my lips with his tongue. I hadn’t realized that a kiss could prove depth of feeling, but this one does. He tilts his head to seal our lips and then proceeds to explore my mouth with a care and curiosity that’s new to me. A chill spreads across my naked skin, and with it, desire blooms.

“Do you have the stuff we need to make love?” I should have thought of this before now.