Page 85 of Choosing Hope
He tilts his head back, leaning his crown on the headrest.
“Sophie, the issue isn’t with you; it’s with me. I’m restless, and I think Carlo’s hit the nail on the head. I’m trying to deny my body’s instinct to be with him sometimes.”
Spencer’s gaze flicks to our driver, Tony.
“When Carlo and I were in school, since my first few years of puberty, I’ve had fantasies about him. I’ve never looked at any other man the same way. But sometimes I feel like I’m chasing something that’s invisible.” He locks eyes with me. “When we’re together, you satisfy me more than any woman I’ve ever had sex with. Carlo can’t give me what you do, and you can’t give me what he does.” He closes his eyes. “I don’t want to feel like this. I just want a normal marriage. But without Carlo, there will always be something missing.”
My mouth goes dry and Carlo’s hand grips mine more firmly. I can hear the pulse pounding in my ears.
“I know it’s my fault our relationship with Carlo ended,” I confess, my voice soft, hesitant.
His eyelids shoot open, his gorgeous hazel eyes troubled.
“I accept full responsibility for that but what you’re searching for you found years ago, and because of my ridiculous outburst, you’ve been denying yourself. But I don’t understand why. I’ve told you countless times that I’m more than happy for you to be with Carlo.”
His expression sharpens, the delicate skin around his eyes wrinkling as he narrows them.
“What you asked for that night wasn’t unreasonable, Soph. I’ve failed you.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve tried to mask my desires for Carlo with erotic scenes in the club.” He rolls his head back. “It’s a complicated web of shame and desire that therapy is helping to untangle.”
Carlo’s hand on mine is now so tight it’s hurting.
Spencer glances at his friend, his face anxious.
“I’m not gay, Sophie but I don’t think I will ever be able to give Carlo up entirely.”
We pull up on our drive and Carlo reaches for the door handle. I can feel the frustration pouring off him in waves. Spencer mimics his move, but the sound of my voice stops them both.
“Thank you for finally admitting how you feel,” I say, my voice soft.
The two boys lock eyes over my head, a brief silent conversation passing between them.
Spencer climbs out of the car and then turns to hold his hand out to me. Typically chivalrous. I slide my hand into his and experience the ever-present charge between us.
Once I’ve slid out of the back of the car, he doesn’t withdraw his hand; instead, he draws me toward him. His mouth is only an inch from my own.
“Whatever happens between us, Sophie, I will never love another.”
My free hand grasps his shirt, desperate to hold on to him. To believe him.
“Show me,” I whisper, never breaking eye contact with him. “Not in the bedroom. With your actions. Show me.”
He pulls me closer, surrounding me with his brawny arms, and I inhale in the familiar scent of him, relieved that for the first time in a while, it’s not tainted with the scent of another woman.
Chapter Twenty-One
Spencer
After the emotion of the night, I’m drained—but I doubt sleep will come. By the time I shut the front door, Carlo is already three-quarters of the way up the stairs. His silence speaks volumes: he’s done talking for tonight. As he disappears into his room and firmly closes the door, he seals the message, finalizing it.
I understand his need to be alone after laying himself bare to me, but I can’t help wishing I’d said or done something more to show him how much he means to me. It’s obvious he’s still grieving for everything he’s lost in his life. And my actions have only made matters worse, even now, I’m not sure how to show him.
Sophie kicks off her heels and then disappears toward the kitchen. I’m standing in the hallway wondering what to do. I’m adrift. Lost and unsure if I should instigate more conversations tonight, or just let us all sleep on the drama of the day, and start a fresh tomorrow.
I’m not eager to continue, but my behavior recently has erased my right to an opinion, and right now I need to do whatever it is Sophie wants. This is her time, and I’m determined to be a slave to her needs.
Just as I decide to follow her, she reappears with two large, iced glasses of water. She passes one to me with a smile. Perceptive as always. I take a sip and let the cold liquid soothe my sore throat, dry from too much booze, too many emotions, and the size of Carlo’s cock.
Without speaking, she drifts straight upstairs, and I follow her like an obedient puppy.
