Page 62 of Dearly Unbeloved
“Shit, Rose,” Jazz says, tears streaming down her face now. “Of course I want that. And I’m never too busy for you. Either of you.”
“You’re about to be a lot busier,” I remind her, and she laughs, wiping her face.
“And I’ll still have time for you. I promise.”
“I want that too,” Xan agrees, soundingalmost relieved. “Honestly, I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while, but I didn’t know where to start. You both have your own lives, and I guess I wasn’t really sure where I fit into them.”
“That’s how I feel about you two,” I say.
Jazz shrugs. “I’ve been trying to force you both into spending more time with me lately, with all the family dinners and the Vegas trip, but I guess I wasn’t being obvious enough. I figured you knew and just didn’t want to be closer.”
The three of us exchange how have we been so fucking stupidlooks before Xan snorts, and we all dissolve into laughter.
“God, our parents really did a number on us,” he says, shaking his head.
“That they did,” Jazz agrees.
“Do you ever think about going no contact like Maggie did?” I’ve expected her to do it a hundred times since Maggie stopped talking to her family, but I just can’t figure out where her breaking point is.
“Oh, I’ve thought about it. Only every day,” she answers with a laugh. “But I’m not there. Not yet, anyway. I saw the moment Maggie broke, when they didn’t come to her wedding, and she realized they were never going to change. She still had a little bit of hope until that moment, and they obliterated it. It’s not a feeling I’d wish on my worst enemy, but god,I’vewished for it a time or two. Wished that I could stop holding onto that hope. That one day they’ll be proud of us, stop holding us to impossible standards. You guys know what I mean.”
Xan and I echo our agreement.
“But things are different now,” Jazz continues, placing her hand flat on her stomach. “This baby isn’t going to grow up like we did. They get one chance to be grandparents, but a single disparaging comment about my kid, a single boundary crossed, and I’m done.” She looks up from her stomach, worrying her lip with her teeth. “If that happens, though, I don’t want to lose you two.”
“You won’t lose us,” I promise, at the same time Xan does.
“It’s about time the three of us worked together to heal from all their bullshit, instead of trying to compete for their attention,” he says.
Jazz nods, smiling and rubbing her thumb over her stomach. “Then let’s do it. A new beginning.”
And for the first time, blocking out the voices of my parents in my head doesn’t feel so scary.
30
SIERRA
Olivia Newton-John had her time. It’s my turn now. - R
P.S. Did you fold my laundry? Are you okay?
Rose’s fingers brush the back of my neck, and I startle as I hear the tiny click of the collar lock. My hand flies to my throat, stopping it from falling.
“What are you doing?” I ask, holding the chain against my skin. The panic in my voice surprises me, but I’ve become more than a little attached to the collar. I woke up from a nightmare a few nights ago, imagining taking it off alongside my wedding ring, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Rose. But we don’t do that—sleeping together. We sleep together, but we don’tsleeptogether.
“Relax,” she says, brushing her hand over my bare back. “I’m only taking it off temporarily. I don’t want to risk damaging it.”
She holds her hand out and I drop the chain in it, feeling somehow more naked, considering there’s not a scrap of fabric on me.
Rose sets the chain gently on her nightstand. “Don’t move.” I hear her shuffling around behind me, then I feel the warmth of her body against my back, her soft fingertips skating up my arms.
I lean back into her touch, my head settling against her chest. Rose bends down to kiss my head, and my eyes flutter closed. I want to memorize every second of this, the comforting, rainy scent of her, the warmth of her skin against mine. For later. For after.
She reaches for something, and a moment later, I feel a thick strap around my throat. The buckle jingles as she fastens it loosely. It’s heavy compared to the dainty chain I’m used to.
“It’s your choice,” she says, spinning the collar around my throat. “Do you want to make me come first? Or do you want to come first?”
“Whatever you prefer,” I say, instantly, because she could ask me to suspend myself in thin air and I’d find a way to do as I was told.
