The Muse's Undoing

I turn away, too, not needing the view of his ass. I take a few deep breaths to come back down from the high of nearly having him again.

“I’ll be right back,” he mumbles.

I get up when he does, putting on my shoes and dodging the area around the shattered tree on my way to the kitchen. I swept, but I won’t trust the floor until I go over it with a mop a few times.

Fischer needs to hydrate, but he’ll want coffee, so I put some on. I chug a glass of water in the meantime. The sun is out again. My heart feels like it’s returned to my chest. I’m not sure if I get to use it yet, but I’ll enjoy the feeling while it lasts.

He comes out of the bathroom naked from the waist down, and I avert my gaze while he digs through his dresser drawer and finds some fresh underwear and his favorite khakis. “Don’t walk over here barefoot,” I warn him.

“I’ll just hang out here.” He sits down on the bed, campfire style. He fusses with his hair while we both pretend not to be checking each other out.

“I assume you remember how you got here and everything,” I say.

“I remember. I remember everything we said, too.”

I hazard a glance his way. “You wanna stick with all that?”

“I want to circle back to where you assumed I wanted to break up with you.”

“You’re acting like I misunderstood something.”

“I wasn’t at my clearest. But I feel better now. Thanks for the ibuprofen by the way.”

“You’re welcome. So what do you have to say for yourself now?” I ask.

“Well, like I was saying—I can’t give you the kind of life that’s out and public. If it was just Nicole involved, I wouldn’t care, but all this shit with Maggie and the Marches?—”

“I get it,” I say, purposely cutting him off. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll figure something out to do. Probably won’t be in this town, but I’ll regroup.”

“Ouch. That simple, huh?”

“Nothing about this is simple for me, and you should know that better than anyone,” I say, bordering on angry.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you left,” he says bleakly.

“If we can’t be together?—”

“Matthew—I’m willing to be with you no matter what it takes. But I don’t expect you to feel the same way.”

“You think I give a shit whether we can be together in public? When do I go out in public?”

I catch a glimmer of hope in his eyes before he seems to snuff it out.

“I don’t think anyone wants a scandal,” he says. “I think if we want to keep seeing each other, and we’re discreet, then no one has a problem.”

I frown. His coffee is ready, and I make him a mug, walking it over to him. He takes it, brushing my fingers and looking up at me.

“How pissed at me are you?” he asks.

“Not very. It’s annoying, actually.”

“It’s okay that I came?”

“Yeah, I missed you,” I tell him before walking back to the kitchen. “But you don’t need to protect me.”

He doesn’t say anything, which leaves me floundering. This is either the end or a fresh start. Either way, whatever comes next is the beginning of the rest of my life.

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