I start to lower the lid of my laptop.
It’s not often that my conscience springs to life, but watching Valentine cry while talking to her therapist about feeling like she doesn’t belong is starting to make me feel guilty.
“… been working on finding sexual completion with a partner?”
I lift the lid back up.
Come again?
Val nods and presses her hands against her cheeks.
I fucking love it when she does that.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?” the doctor asks.
Yeah, Valentine, just kind of?
“Yes,” my wife admits.
“Is this with the man you met on the plane?”
I lean closer. She told her therapist about me?
Val nods, dropping her hands.
“Has it happened every time?” the doctor asks.
Tell us, Angel. Have I made you come every time?
Val nods again.
The doctor keeps going. “What made the difference?”
Say my big dick.
“I think it’s like you said,” Val answers.
And what did the good doctor say?
“Trust?” the doc clarifies.
“Yes.” Valentine’s answer is a whisper. But I hear it in my soul.
“Trust makes a huge difference in learning to let go with a partner,” the doctor says, like it’s simple. Like trust between two people is something that happens every day. “Does this have anything to do with those tattoos I saw on your hand?”
“Yeah.” Val huffs. “I got drunk and married the guy.”
“Good.”
I can’t see the laptop screen, so I can’t see the therapist. But I can hear her smile.
“Good?” Val presses her hands to her cheeks again. “It’s been less than two months since we first met.”
“Time isn’t the defining factor of a relationship,” the doctor counters. “And you just said you have trust.”
I watch Val’s expression slip. “I trusted him.”
Trusted.
Past tense.
I lean even closer to the screen.
“Trust and love mean more than time.”
My wife’s lips part.
Is she going to admit she doesn’t love me?
She hesitates.
Or is it possible that she might? Even after everything I’ve done.
“I…” Val starts.
The front door unlocking cuts through what Val’s about to say, and I slam the laptop lid closed.
There’s only one person it can be, but I still pull the gun from the holster at the small of my back as I stride across the room.
The door swings open, and Rob steps into the condo.
Rob is my second cousin, as well as my second in command. He’s not quite as tall as I am, but he’s spent more time in the gym than most people I know, so you know he’s a formidable opponent before his first punch.
He makes it a few feet before he sees me. The gun in my hand halts him in place. “What happened?”
“My wife lives here now. You won’t just let yourself in again.”
He smirks. “Afraid I might see more than you want me to?”
“More than you want you to.” I step closer. “Because if you ever see more than you should, your sight will be the first sense I take.”
He eyes me. “Alright, Boss. From now on, I knock.”
