Emerson
I once loved that my desk faces hers. I could watch her profile as she worked, admiring the slope of her nose and the way she bit her lip while typing or rested her head on her desk at the end of the day. Now, the desk is painfully empty.
And it’s all my fault.
The day Beau found us, he didn’t even bother to stay and yell at me. We’re just back to the silent treatment again, and I really wish he would have let me have it while he was here. I’d rather my son yell at me instead of ignore me.
I’ve practically worn out the digits on my phone screen, texting both of them. I try to spend most of my days at the club now, but even there, her memory haunts me. Garrett tells me not to give up, to give them both time, but I don’t know how long I can do this.
I want them both, and maybe that’s selfish and unrealistic, but I don’t fucking care anymore.
Today I’m stuck at my desk. It’s been two weeks since she left, and I have no plans to replace her anytime soon. Or ever. Garrett, Maggie, and Hunter have been trying to cheer me, and I hate being cheered up. Right now I want to wallow in my pity, knowing that I may never see her or speak to her again.
And that’s it for me. I don’t want another sub or another girlfriend. Charlotte is about as replaceable as Beau, which means not at all.
I find myself tracing the lines on my palm, remembering how she said I had a long heart line, how I’d have great love in my life. Have I turned into the world’s biggest sap? Apparently.
A knock on the door breaks my attention from my hand. It’s probably a delivery or Maggie bringing me something. Still, I rush to answer it and let out a sigh of relief when I find my son on the porch, waiting for me.
“Beau,” I say quietly.
He only looks me in the eye briefly before averting his gaze. “I want to know more. I can’t stop thinking about it, and I want to know what really happened between you two.”
I force myself to swallow down my nerves. “Of course. Come in.”
We find a place to sit in the front room, and I offer him a drink or food, but he shakes his head. His knee is bouncing as he stares at the floor. Bracing myself for what might be the hardest conversation of my life, I take a seat across from him. “Ask me anything.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
My jaw clenches. “Yes.”
His lips tighten, and his clenched jaw mirrors mine. “The whole time?”
“No, just recently.”
“Did you hurt her?” he asks in a vitriolic tone.
“Never. I would never hurt her.” My answer is confident and certain. I know what he’s thinking…that I manipulated her into sleeping with me. That I played a power role over her and forced her into something she didn’t want. I’m one-hundred-percent confident that that’s not what happened.
“Did you take her to the club?”
Tension looms over us as he brings up the club, the very catalyst to his disdain for me. My son refuses to believe that I’m not some sleazy pervert because I’ve given people a place to express their sexual needs safely. I wish I could make him see, but it’s not exactly a comfortable conversation between father and son.
“Yes, I did.”
He shakes his head. “She’s not like that. You’ve spent all this time corrupting her. No wonder she wants you and not me. “
“Now wait a minute,” I interrupt. “I didn’t corrupt her at all. You think she’s not like that? But I promise you, she is. Charlotte is a grown woman and can make her own decisions. I didn’t coerce her at all, but I did give her a place to find herself, and I’ve spent the last few months watching her grow.”
He scoffs.
“Second of all,” I add. “She never chose me over you. You two were already broken up—’
“Oh, shut up,” he barks. “Don’t rub that in my face.”
“I didn’t mean to.” I hold my hands up toward him. “I’m only pointing out that she was fully aware of what she was doing. And before you perpetuate this belief that my club is a dirty, shameful place, I promise you, it’s not. We take all health and safety precautions. Everything is consensual and women have even more power there than men do, so please stop telling yourself how bad I am.”
He’s quiet for a moment, staring at the floor as he wrings his hands and thinks to himself.
“Do you love her?” he asks without looking up at me.
I hesitate. The word yes rests on the tip of my tongue, dying to come flying out, but I’m not sure that’s what he wants to hear. “It doesn’t matter,” I reply, holding back my disappointment. “If you don’t want me to pursue her, I won’t.”
His head snaps up in my direction. He’s reading my expression before forcefully biting out, “I don’t want you to.”
I have to remind myself to breathe. My heart, which was just beating a million beats a minute, has now crashed to the floor. That’s it then. He said no, and I can’t break that. I need him to trust me again.
“Okay.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he adds. “Do you love her?”
This time I let him hear my response. “Yes. Very much.”
His face morphs into part disgust and part pity. With his eyes closed, he shakes his head.
“She’s only twenty-one. You’re forty. That’s fucked up.”
I shrug. “I’m sorry.” There’s no point in telling him how happy we were. How we stopped seeing each other for our ages and more for what we offered each other. Charlotte made me laugh and saw right through my emotional armor I’ve been wearing for twenty years. She always seemed to know exactly what I needed.
“So if I really told you not to see her again…you wouldn’t?”
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. “You’re my son, Beau. Your happiness comes before my own. If you don’t want me to date your ex, how could I?”
His brow furrows even deeper as he scrutinizes me. “I should go.”
The air deflates from my lungs. “Don’t go, Beau. Don’t be mad at me anymore, please.”
As he stands from his chair, the heavy weight of disappointment burrows itself into my throat, making it hard to swallow.
“I just need time…to figure this out.”
“Come over anytime. We can talk about whatever you’d like. I’ll do anything,” I plead, staring at his back as he walks away, feeling like a fool. But I don’t care. I’ll act a fool just to get him back in my life.
As the door closes without another word from him, I stand there for a while replaying everything in my head. Then, I somberly make my way back to my desk, where I continue to be completely unproductive and stare at nothing while my mind replays all of my mistakes.
Opening the top drawer, I see those light blue panties she left the day it ended. On top of them is the black remote. Both of them stare up at me as a reminder that I will never see Charlotte again. Not as long as Beau has a problem with it.
Picking up the panties, I toss them in the trash can next to my desk. Then with the remote in my hand, I imagine the way she looked when I played with her. That bright smile and gorgeous brown eyes.
“Fuck!” I bellow, tossing the remote hard against the wall and feeling instant gratification as it crashes to the floor in pieces.
Ignoring the mess I made, I grab my keys off the table by the front door. I have to get the fuck out here, and there’s only one place I want to go. I’m tired of moping and feeling lonely. Bile rises in my throat as I think about it, but I need some company tonight. Maybe, if I’m lucky enough, I can fuck away how much I miss her and recover some semblance of the man I used to be.
