But there’s also a large part of me that’s consumed with guilt. I almost cheated on him last week. Almost let Cope kiss me. And if I’m being honest with myself right now, it pained me to stop him. I wanted him to kiss me. Wanted it like I’ve never wanted anything before. Having his eyes on me the way that they were was thrilling. Seeing even a sliver of the attraction Ifeel for him mirrored back at me that night was nothing short of intoxicating. Not only that, but when I almost fell, he caught me, and having his strong arms holding me, his scent wafting around me, it made it damn near impossible to do the right thing.
And I thinkthat’sthe part that suffocates me with the guilt… Not that it almost happened, but the fact that I didn’t want to stop Cope. I wanted it to happen, and had he not backed off immediately when I stopped him, had he tried again, I would’ve let him.
I feel like Henry’s going to be able to read it all over my face when he sees me. I’ve never been a good liar; I wear my emotions right there for everyone to see all the time. Over the last week, I’ve contemplated coming clean to Henry. Telling him what happened. In the end, I decided against it for two reasons. One, nothing happened. I stopped it. And two, I’d only be doing it to alleviate my own guilt. All it would do is upset him and cause him distress. So, in a way, it feels selfish to tell him. And it’s not like it’s going to happen again. It was a one-time lapse in judgement on both of our parts. We’d both been drinking, and then when I fell, our adrenaline was rushing.
It would’ve happened to anybody. It’s not like Copeactuallywants me. He’s straight. And even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t change anything. I have Henry.
Henry, the man who’s about to land in Wyoming, to visit me for my birthday. The man who I’ve been with for years now—even if only off and on. He deserves my loyalty.
Yes, things between us feel more unstable and rockier than ever before, but he’s here now. Or well, he will be. And that’s gotta count for something, right? I’m sure once we’re together again, things will feel normal. The distance will be long forgotten. Cope probably won’t even be on my mind.
I’m not going to be wondering what he’s doing. Or what he’s wearing while he’s doing it.
I definitely won’t be remembering the way his deep brown orbs looked at me like they were really seeing me for the first time that night a week ago in the back of his truck…after he introduced me to all of his friends. Or the way those same eyes drifted down to my lips more than once.
And while I’m compiling a list of things Iwon’tbe thinking about while Henry is here, I absolutely won’t be thinking about all the times he came over and helped me with Aunt Colette’s animals while she was in the hospital or healing. How patient he was when showing me what to do. How he never made fun of me for being utterly clueless. How he taught me to ride a horse, packed me a picnic lunch to eat over a stunning view of the river and the mountains, and how when we got back to my aunt’s house, he explained in great detail how to take care of my legs and my groin area that were going to be sore later—which they were, and his tips helped greatly.
Zero thoughts about how kind he is. How good looking he is. How talented he is.
None of that.
Fuck! Snap out of it, Xander. He’s just a guy. Astraightguy.
Hitting every single red light on the way to the airport, I end up getting there even later than I thought, and when I pull up, Henry is already waiting on the curb, suitcase in hand, a scowl on his face. Putting my hazard lights on, I pop the trunk and hop out of the car, rounding the back to meet him.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I apologize as I take his luggage from him, placing it in the trunk. “There was traffic, and I’m not used to my aunt’s car.”
The furrow in his brow softens slightly. “It’s okay. I wasn’t waiting that long.”
Henry pulls me into a hug, bergamot and orange filling my nostrils as he places a kiss on top of my head.
“Missed you,” I murmur, pulling back and taking him in.
His dark brown hair is longer than it was when I left, almost down to his chin now, and his green eyes are on the darker side today. He’s tall—significantly taller than my five-foot-ten stature—and his features are sharp; etched from stone, making him appear fierce at all times. Like always, he’s dressed impeccably in a tailored dark gray suit. It doesn’t matter that he just spent the last several hours in an airport and flying on a plane. If there’s one thing to know about Henry Darby, it’s that he will always look professional and put together wherever he goes.
When we first started dating, I was convinced he even slept in those suits.
“Missed you, too, honey.” He lets go of my shoulders as he rounds the car, sliding into the passenger side while I do the same on my side. Aunt Colette drives a Subaru Outback that’s only a few years old. It’s a much nicer car than mine, but watching the way Henry looks around with disgust curling his lip, you’d think he just climbed into a rat-infested pile of junk. When he notices me looking at him, he erases the look off his face before saying, “I see your car’s still out of commission.”
“It is,” I confirm, pulling away from the curb.
“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten a new car yet, Xan. That thing is a hunk of garbage.”
“Well, we all can’t drive around in brand new Teslas now, can we?”
“You could if you wanted to,” Henry counters. “It’s not like you don’t have the money.”
How has he been in the car for less than five minutes, and we’re already about to have a money spat?
“How was your flight?” I ask, changing the subject, refusing to go there. It’s an age-old argument between us.
He shrugs, fingers clicking away on his phone. “It was alright. Not a full flight, so there was plenty of breathing room.”
“Well, that’s nice,” I reply. I get a “mmhmm” back from him, and that’s pretty much where the conversation dies. Another thing there is to know about Henry is that he is the definition of a workaholic. I’d bet my left nut he’s currently responding to emails right now because God forbid he takes a vacation.
The drive back to Aunt Colette’s doesn’t take nearly as long as the drive to the airport, and by the time I’m pulling into the garage, she’s waiting for us. This’ll be their first time meeting. Every time she’s flown to Washington to visit since Henry and I started dating, he’s always been out of town or too busy to meet her. She wasn’t feeling the best when I left for the airport this morning, and she still looks like she isn’t. Her skin’s pale, and the bags under her eyes are darkened and prominent. She must be coming down with a cold. I feel bad for her. First, she had major surgery, and now she’s getting sick.
Much to my surprise, Henry shoves his phone into the pocket of his suit jacket before climbing out. I pop the trunk and grab his suitcase while Henry and my aunt are doing their introductions. We all head inside, and I drop his stuff off in my room before meeting them both in the kitchen. She’s grabbing him something to drink, and it looks like she made up a meat and cheese tray for us to eat.
