Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
That one freaked me out the most. I was only slightly relieved when a petite but absolutely naked woman gave me a wink and a finger wave as she walked past me and calmly started making a cup of coffee.
I'd scrambled for my purse and keys and got the hell out of there, taking the Red Line straight home to scribble in the journal that acts as a means of communication between me and Mads:
What the hell was that? I thought we agreed on no sharing this body with anyone except Domhn! If you don't love him as much as I do, fine, but that doesn't mean you get to—to—be a hoe with my body!
I waited on pins and needles until waking up the next day to find a response from her.
Don’t get it twisted, little girl. I’m the one who fought for all this time for him, so don’t you dare question the love I have for him ever again. I loved him deeper than your little pea brain could ever imagine. But this is my first time being free, too, bitch, and I’ll explore whatever I want to explore. No fluid exchange, fine? That’s all the assurance you get from me. ‘Cause let’s not forget it’s you who’s keeping us from being with Donny right now. So stick that up your ass and smoke it.
Speaking of the journal…
"Mmmm, that coffee you're making smells delicious, babe. But I'm going to put on some real, human clothes before breakfast."
"Breakfast can wait," Domhn says, eyes dark. "I'm happy to help you take off all your clothes and keep them off for a while."
I laugh and put my hands on his chest, feeling both giddy and anxious like I do every time he expresses desire for me.
I go up on tiptoes and kiss him, lingering for longer than perhaps I should. Because naturally, he starts to deepen the kiss, and it makes my belly flip in ways I both want and have been afraid of ever since I got back from Chicago.
"I'll be right back!"
I pull out of his arms and skip away from him down the hallway to our bedroom.
As difficult as I'm making things for him, I just don't yet know how to tell him that I switch every time things start to get intimate between us. That it's Mads he's having sex with each time, and I—
I don't begrudge them that. After my year of finding out what I liked and didn't like, discovering opinions I think are actually mine—
I think I'm afraid…
I love Domhn, but what if I'm not what he needs? And she is?
I hurry into the bedroom and then into the large, oversized walk-in closet. But not so I can change. Instead, I get on my knees and crawl toward the very back to pull out several boxes of ridiculous shoes Domhn bought me.
At the bottom of the last box is the journal.
I yank it out to see what she's written. If she's even written, because she's notoriously bad at remembering to write me back.
You know it’s ridiculous to have to hide this journal back here like this. Don’t you trust Domhn? Why not leave it out in the open and trust him not to read your personal thoughts if you ask him not to?
My hands fist. My therapist says it's good to let myself feel anger. And on rare occasions, I do feel anger, or at least frustration, at Mads. But then, she's always goading me, isn't she? She knows it's not that I don't trust Domhn. It's just that anyone faced with the conundrum he is would be tempted to read the journal. And God knows the man loves surveillance. He thought I didn't know he had me under surveillance while I was in Chicago, but his photographers weren't always as slick at blending in as they thought they were. I just didn't mind because then I knew he was thinking of me.
I force myself to read on.
Had a fun night out. You should try it sometime.
I flip the page.
But there's nothing else there. What the fuck? I slam the journal shut.
Then I yank it back open and write furiously with the pen clipped in the spiral.
Please write more next time. Something obviously happened between you and Domhn last night, and yes, he'll tell me about it, but I wish you would, too! This only works if we trust each other and the process.
Of course, that's part of the problem. She doesn't always care to engage with me and my therapist in the process. Back in Chicago, we worked with Dr. Kim, who was amazing, and now that we're back in Dallas, we're working with Dr. Ezra again. He says to be patient, but I'm shit at patience.
I just want us to be happy. I shove the journal back in the shoe box and the box back at the end of the closet.