RUE
ONE YEAR LATER
My voice was muffled by the pillow, dampened by my own gritted teeth, but I hated how reedy and desperate it still sounded when I said, “I hate this.”
“Really?” Eli remained motionless inside me, but the heel of his palm traced every knob of my spine, soothing my tremors. It made no difference, because his other hand was busy pinning my wrists to the mattress. “Because I am into it.”
Of course he was.
He had come.
Twice.
Inside me, wherever struck his fancy.
I, however, had not. It had been hours, and I was a trembling, unsatisfied mess. He got like that, sometimes—pushy and overbearing and everywhere, and I just couldn’t . . .
I groaned into the pillow.
“You’re really not enjoying yourself?” he whispered, this time against my ear.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“My poor girl.” He clucked his tongue, and I was going to kill him. As soon as he let go of me. And let me come. “Why is that?”
Because.
“Is it too much, Rue?” He nuzzled the curve of my throat, and the movement made him surge deeper inside me. I was swollen and used, and it
felt so good, I might cry. In fact, I was already tearing up. “Is it broccoli, baby?”
“No! No. It’s just . . .” “Just?”
I circled my ass against his groin, and his muted, amused grunt ended with him gripping my hip bone and holding me still. Asshole.
“Why are you grinding against me, sweetheart?” He kissed the ball of my shoulder. “We both know that you can’t come in this position, anyway.”
“Then why don’t you just let me move?”
“Because I can come in this position. And I’m trying to save myself for you.”
I whimpered—half plea, all frustration. “Please. I need you to—”
“I know exactly what you need.” His mouth on my earlobe was, briefly, all teeth. “You don’t have to tell me.” He tsked. “Come on,
Rue. I’m offended.” “Then why don’t you—”
“Because I’m having fun. Want me to stop? Just say the words.”
I could have. I could have told him to put an end to this. I’d done it before, when it had become too much, when I’d felt like I was going to squirm out of my own skin, and he’d stopped without asking questions. I let myself contemplate the possibility: Eli turning me around, making me come with his mouth, rocking me in his arms for long minutes, until I pushed him away or fell asleep, whatever came first.
But as much as I hated this, I loved it too much to give it up. And why would I ask him to stop when I had other ways of getting what I wanted? A bit dirty. Manipulative, maybe. But resourceful. I knew exactly what the words would do to him, and mumbled them into the pillow to my own advantage.
Eli stilled.
Leaned his forehead between my shoulder blades. Asked, “What did you just say?”
This time I lifted my head. Enunciated clearly. “I love you.”
It changed everything. I felt him shudder inside me. Tighten his grip around my hip bone. Take a deep, broken breath. Excitement bubbled within him—twelve months in, and the words hadn’t worn down yet.
“Okay, you know what?”
I shook my head against the pillow, shivering.
“I think I’m done playing. I want to look at you. Let’s just . . .” He let go of my wrists. Turned me around. It was a little dizzying, how quickly everything changed.
His eyes were locked with mine. His kisses were deep.
His arms closed around my waist to scoop me up.
He was inside me again in a matter of seconds, relentlessly deep, but it felt completely different from before. This time, neither of us had anywhere to hide. This way, this way I really could—
“Hi,” he told me with a smile that I couldn’t physically return.
Instead, I solemnly replied, “Hi,” and then he was moving inside me and whispering sweet things in my ear, about how perfect I was, how much he liked me, the sheer improbability of my beauty, and that he knew, he fucking knew what I’d done, but he was always going to let me get away with it, because he loved to hear it so much. And then his fingers found my clit, and it was all over. I was coming this time, and he was holding still and then groaning and falling apart with me. Again.
“What are you thinking?” he asked afterward, the sweat cooling on our skin, his heart a steady beat under my ear.
I felt my lips twist in a shadow of a smile. “That this was a really nice way to start our vacation.”
My life might have changed, but I hadn’t. Which wasn’t a problem, because Eli seemed to be okay with the way I was—and that was that.
Whenever I’d imagined myself in a relationship, I’d envisioned an exhausting series of social niceties, facades to meticulously keep up, chitchat that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to produce even under duress. Eli, unsurprisingly, required very little of that. He allowed my silences, and had long conversations with me when I wanted to. He gave me space, but pulled me into his life if I gravitated away. He made fun of me, especially when I made fun of him.
Being with him had meant other things, too, like an unconditional acceptance in his group of friends, a growing relationship with his sister, a dog. But I had thought people overwhelming before falling in love with one, and still found it hard to navigate many interpersonal situations. As Tisha had put it, You don’t have to enjoy all the social shit just because you enjoy being with Eli. He’s so into you, I doubt he cares. After that, it had all fallen into place.
(I had to admit, however, that Tiny had grown on me.)
(I was ready to die for that beast, and I was not prone to exaggeration.)
So, no, I hadn’t changed. But my life sparked a little brighter—and that was that.
“The deck needs some work done,” Eli told me on the porch of my cabin, while I leashed Tiny and let him lick my cheek like the pushover I’d become. The power of dogs was astounding. “I might be able to take care of it on my own.”
I’d not expected to feel a deep sense of immediate connection with my father’s cabin, and I’d been right. But I was a homeowner, and it felt nice, being in possession of something that someone had wanted me to have. I adored how secluded it felt here, the fresh air, the woodland scenery. Plus, I thought when the phone pinged with a text, we had cell reception.
“Tisha?” Eli asked. “More questions about your totally straightforward and reasonable forty-three-step instructions on how to take care of the children?”
My plants, he meant. “Nope.” I showed him the notification, and he snorted.
“Oh, come on.”
“What?”
“You need to uninstall that app.”
“It’s how we first met. It has a sentimental value.”
“And you are so sentimental.” He tugged me down the path that led to the hiking trails we’d planned to explore.
“Did you? Delete yours?”
“I deleted my profile after the first time you stayed over at my place.”
I glanced at him, feeling that cozy warmth that was always there when he was around. “It’s in bad taste and overdone.”
“What is?”
“Bragging about how you knew before me.”
He laughed and pulled me in for an embrace. “I don’t think it’s overdone. In fact, I’m not sure it’s done enough.”
Around us, everything was wild. The sun-dappled trees, the sound of little critters going about their lives, Tiny’s enthusiastic explorations. “If we come back this winter,” Eli told me an hour in, when we stopped for a break, “we might be able to skate on that pond.” He crouched down to retie his shoelaces, and I glanced at the water, a small smile curving my lips.
This winter.
“Are you picturing the myriad ways in which we could die?” he asked from behind me.
“Yup.” We could try, but would have to drill in the ice to check, first. We needed at least five inches to—
“Hey, Rue?”
“Yeah,” I said distractedly. “Since we’re here.”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering.”
I turned around. He was still tying his shoes, head bent low. “Would you like to get married?”
Eli looked up. Met my eyes. His words glided buoyantly around my head for a few seconds, devoid of any significance. And then their meaning clawed into me, and I was suddenly made of heat. “What did you say?”
“Marriage. Would you like to?”
I opened my mouth. Stayed like that. “To me, that is. I should have specified.”
I could feel my pulse in my fingertips. My body, my brain, I was all heartbeat. “I . . . is this how one proposes?” It was a genuine question.
“I’m not sure.” Eli shrugged. “I’ve never done this before.” “Yes, you have. You were engaged.”
“Was I?”
“I have met her. She is very kind. She made us dinner and—”
“Ah, yes. It’s coming back to me. Well, that engagement came about when the two of us looked at each other and decided that getting married was a good next step. There was never a proposal.”
“I see.”
Would you like to get married?
He’d said that. Hadn’t he?
“Shouldn’t . . .” My cheeks heated. I was dizzy. “Shouldn’t you be on your knees?”
He glanced down at himself. He was, in fact, on his knees. On one knee.
Which I knew. I was just—flustered. That’s it. “And have a ring?” I added.
“Jesus, Rue.” His smile was delighted. “For someone who lets me tie her up and slide plugs up her holes on a weekly basis, you’re a traditionalist.”
“That’s not it.” I took a deep breath. Tried to think about it calmly. “It doesn’t seem like a good impulse decision to make. You can’t just propose on a whim in the middle of a walk. You should probably think about it a lot more. Make sure it’s what you really want.”
He rolled his eyes, sighed, and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a—
I gasped. “Better now?”
“When did you even—”
“Around eleven months and three weeks ago.”
My eyes were going to roll out of my head. “This is unhinged.”
“I know. But you asked.” He grinned up at me, and my hands were trembling. The rest of my body, too. Was he really . . . ?
“Is it because you really like the cabin? And my patent?”
“Yes, Rue. I’m asking you to marry me because Texas is a community property state and I want to own half your stuff. You uncovered my long con. Are you going to pass out?”
“Maybe,” I said in all seriousness.
“Then move away from that precipice, please.”
I took a step forward, and then we were there. He’d asked the question.
I’d heard and understood it. And all that was missing was my answer.
“It’s fine, if you’re not ready. This is not an ultimatum.” His eyes and voice and smile were soft. He didn’t sound nervous, or scared, and I thought that this man—he knew what was in my heart just as well as I did. “I’ve been feeling like asking for a while, so I did. But I can check back in a few months.”
“Don’t.”
“No checking back?”
I shook my head. “Don’t bother, there’s no point. My mind is made up, and I won’t change it.”
It was a cheap trick, and someone else would have fallen for it. But Eli
—Eli understood my words for what they were, and he smiled, took my hand, slid the ring on my finger. He didn’t stand, and instead buried his face against my stomach, nuzzling into me.
I ran my hand through his hair, glanced at the trees, smelled the earth, and said, “I was so wrong.”
“About what?” he asked against my shirt. It meant that he probably couldn’t see my smile, and wasn’t that too bad?
“About whether my story could ever be happy.”
