The Muse's Undoing

FISCHER

When Matthew returns to the bed, he leans back into the pillows on his side. I’d have to turn around to look at him. I make the choice not to. As much as I want to snuggle against his chest, too much remains unsettled.

I managed to say a lot last night when we weren’t looking at each other, and while I’m a lot clearer this morning, awkward ejaculation aside, I want every opportunity to be able to speak from my heart all the things he deserves to hear.

“I would try to protect you with my dying breath,” I begin.

“Even if I didn’t need it?” he asks. “Or want it?”

“You’d still be worth it,” I say.

“Is that why you left me the first time, too? You were trying to protect me?”

“I was trying to protect us both. I’m not that selfless.”

“But you’re saying you were this time?”

“Matthew, since Nicole filed that petition, I felt like I was dying. I would have rather been dying.”

I hear how deep his next breath is. “I think I was dying,” he whispers.

“I knew staying away would hurt you, and I’m so fucking sorry. I know it doesn’t help, but that’s why I called. And why I wanted Gavin to check on you. I was worried.”

“One day maybe I’ll tell you what it was like to feel like I’d never be with you again, but I don’t think I can go there right now.”

That hurts to hear. “Don’t mind me, I’m just over here drowning in a thousand regrets.”

“Can you look at me, please?” he asks.

I set the coffee down on the nightstand and turn around. His hands are empty, and his knees are hitched up, leaving a space between his legs where I know I belong. Seeing me staring at the space longingly, he pats the mattress, and I come, crawling to him like one of the subs in Gibson’s club, kneeling between his thighs and waiting for permission to touch him.

He stares me down, his eyes full of thunderstorms and lightning. My favorite hurricane. “I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, too. But you can’t leave me again,” he says.

“I know. I can’t.”

“No matter what, Fischer.”

“I get it,” I say.

“Is this what you want?”

“Were you ready?” I ask. “Back then? Were you ready for this?”

He nods. “Back then, I would have followed you anywhere.”

“Is it better, then, or worse, that I left you behind?”

He narrows his eyes. “It makes it harder to trust you.”

That makes sense. Maybe it was a dumb question. “You think I can handle you?” I ask instead.

“Yeah, I think so. If you wanted out, you had your chance.”

“I definitely don’t want out,” I say. “What about you?”

Matthew frowns. “Can I handle you?”

I nod.