Page 49 of The Interview
“So, yourmouthwas mine, but yourdick wasn’t?”
“Fucked, I know. But kissing her seemed more personal, more intimate than letting her suck my cock.”
I don’t know what to say or how to feel.
I say nothing. Feel everything.
“I came in her mouth, got up and left without a word. I couldn’t look at her for the next couple of days with the guilt eating me alive, but then she caught me on my own and started chatting shit about making plans to meet up, to do it again, like we were having an affair. I told her no, she’d caught me in a moment of weakness, and I was sorry, but it wouldn’t ever be happening again.”
“But it did.”
“Not really. She turned up at the front door with coke and weed. I shouldn’t have let her in, but I wanted to make sure she got the message. What happened was a one-off and wouldn’t happen again. She tried to kiss me, put her hand down my jeans…”
“And Marley caught you.”
“He did, and I’ll forever be grateful that he fucked her off in a way I was too nice to do, but…”
I brace.
“But?”
“I lied to Marley. Told him nothing else had happened. Never told him about what happened in the studio. Hated myself for it. Hated myself for what I’d done to you.”
“I did worse,” I admit.
“We gonna have a pissing contest over who’s the biggest fuck up? Like you said, in the grand scheme of things, does any of that matter? Only we know what we had and how fucking good it was.”
“I never didn’t love you. I’ve never not loved you,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says against my ear. “I feel it. I think I even felt a bit of something from the big fella today.”
That makes me smile. “You protected me from any more hurt. He respects that.”
“And I respect him for protecting you from Rocco Taylor doing more damage, even if he did fuck my wife.”
I cringe at his words. “I can’t believe we’re having such a civil conversation about this.”
“George, I am in no way feeling civil about any of this. I’m pissed off with all of you right now.” His energy shifts.
“You’re going?”
“Got to. Need to pay your big-mouthed brothers a visit.”
“Don’t scare them too much.”
“Done with being the nice bloke, G. I’m gonna scare the shit out of them.”
I giggle at the prospect. “I love you. Tell Beau and Baby M I love them, too,” I rush to say, panicked he won’t hear my words.
“We know, G. We know,” a voice says from far, far away.
A noise from somewhere in the house wakes me. I open my eyes, then instantly close them in the hope that the action will send my brain back to sleep.
It doesn’t.
I think my system is still completely overloaded with all of yesterday’s revelations, and I don’t even know where or how to start processing them.
If Cam hadn’t fucked me into unconsciousness, I probably would’ve laid here all night staring at the ceiling, attempting to bring some order back to my erratic thoughts. Instead, I slept soundly. A dream I may or may not have had knocks at my consciousness, but it’s gone in an instant thanks to too many other thoughts and feelings fighting for space inside my brain.
