“If I were a sex addict, would you stop being friends with me?”
“No. I’d just give you a bunch of Jay’s friends’ numbers.”
“Harhar.” I know she’s joking, but the timing isn’t appreciated. “So he’s got a hang-up. Don’t we all? And I can honestly think of worse things than being chronically selfless. Monks practice self-denial all the time. They take a vow to God to renounce all worldly pleasures.”
“Yeah, and then they sit around in brown bathrobes, making beer, and flogging themselves. I’m not sure they’re a great example of a healthy lifestyle. Once I read this book about a crazy monk slash billionaire named Mr. Rook, who—”
“It’s not up to us to judge. My point is, no one calls them crazy. They call them devout.”
Vi takes her tea again and contemplates.
“So what should I do?” I pull on the throw covering my lap and tuck it under my arms.
“Do you love him?”
I know I have feelings for him, but it’s a lot to unpack. “Maybe?” I shrug.
“I say you do, because most women would have fled. Quickly. Just the fact he’s got a huge case of amnesia and used to be the biggest dick on the planet—right there, that’s a call for running.”
“I want to help him. Does that really make me a bad person, Vi?” I ask rhetorically.
“No. Of course not. But you said he asked you to decide—accept him as is or leave. A man doesn’t say that unless he’s falling in love with you and knows he’s asking a lot. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he comes with baggage. He’s asking if you’ll still love him anyway before he gets deeper.”
He loves me? I try to let that sink in. “I figured he likes me a lot. That’s all.”
“Nope.” Jay’s standing in the bedroom doorway in red flannel pajamas. He’s a tall, dark man with a very outspoken nature. His mom is Sicilian. His dad was in the army on vacation when he met Jay’s mother. Both are Catholic, but I get the sense Jay’s upbringing was anything but traditional. Summers in Italy with a big Italian family. Moving around a lot like a typical army brat, including all over Europe.
“Nope what?” I ask Jay, turning my body in his direction.
“I agree with Olivia. The man’s falling in love with you.”
“But wouldn’t that contradict everything?” I ask. “He gets headaches when he does anything selfish.”
“Vi, I’m going back to bed. I’ve got inspections tomorrow morning, but could you explain to your friend here why love isn’t selfish?” He shakes his head. “Women.” And disappears into their bedroom.
“What’s up his ass?” I ask.
“Nothing. His parents are just super romantic. They practically beat the virtues of love into him and his brothers.” She exhales. “Love is the most selfless act there is, Ginnie. You of all people know that.”
“Ah. I guess I do know that.” I’m sometimes selfless to a fault when it comes to the people I love. As for Marus, things keep getting more complicated. How will it ever work between us? He’s able to love me, because that’s selfless, but he can’t ever express it sexually because that’s selfish? Jesus. I feel like someone should write a book about this. Then again, who’d be crazy enough to even attempt it?
“So do you love him back?” Vi asks.
I stare down into my empty cup and then set it on the coffee table. “I do. Or, at least, I’m falling in love. I think I’m just scared. What if we can’t ever be intimate?”
She shrugs. “Then just make sure he doesn’t do it for his own enjoyment.”
“What?” I laugh.
“No. Seriously. If he’s got this weird hang-up, then don’t fight it. Demand he gives you a good pounding because you need it. Tell him you need it like you need the air in your lungs. And tell him he has to enjoy it, too, or you won’t get off. You’ll feel inadequate.”
Ohmygod. “You’re a genius.” That’s why he looked like he wasn’t feeling well after we fooled around in his warehouse—an act he basically did for me so I wouldn’t be left hanging, so to speak. After he took good care of me, he flogged the Slinky and paid the price. But if I could make it all about me…
“I’m going to guilt him into fucking my brains out,” I declare.
“Now you’re thinking!” Jay yells out from the other room.
I laugh. “Where’d you find him?”
“The awesome man store,” Vi replies.
We both go silent for a long moment.
“Ginnie,” Olivia finally says, “just promise you’ll be careful. I understand everything you’ve said. And I’m not arguing about you wanting him. As big a cliché as it is, the heart wants what the heart wants. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
I love Olivia and don’t like seeing her so worried. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? Even if I picked the sanest man on the planet, one with a great family, a solid education, and a perfect résumé, there’s no guarantee he won’t turn out to be a lying, cheating sack of shit.” Greg taught me that. They can look perfect on the outside, but that doesn’t mean they’ll cherish you and take care of your heart.