Page 5 of Six More Minutes
“That’s cool,” he said. “Let’s take a hot bath and then we can settle in front of the fire and go over our schedules to see when we can manage the next trip.”
Three months ago that might’ve been fine with Gemma, but so much had changed in that time. Hell, so much had changed in this past year. She turned slowly in his arms until she faced him. It was her turn to cup his face in her hands as she said, “I want more than just a few stolen weekends a year. I want something real, something more substantial. Can you give me that?”
Four
Gemma wasin the bathroom brushing her teeth. Myles had already disposed of the condom, washed off and was now sitting on the side of the bed.
He still hadn’t responded to her question.
Because he didn’t have an answer. Scrubbing his hands over his face he tried to prepare himself for to the conversation that was undoubtedly coming in the next few minutes. Gemma wasn’t the type of woman to say something and then let it go just because he’d clammed up like an idiot. He’d learned a lot about her in the last year, even though the majority of their relationship had taken place via text or phone calls.
As the oldest girl sextuplet born into a family with notoriety, she’d had to grow up pretty fast. Similar to the life in the spotlight Myles had endured, she’d experienced things that a child shouldn’t have had to go through and those things had shaped the adult she was today. There was a no-nonsense layer to her personality that lately she’d felt was buried under her desire to have what she’d thought her mother had needed most—love. How many nights had they stayed up late on the phone with Gemma expressing her concerns about her prior and current relationships? Too many.
In the first few months after they’d met, Myles had decided Gemma was definitely searching for something he couldn’t give her. She’d shared that during the prior year she’d ended a four-year relationship that she felt was going nowhere. The guy—Myles didn’t recall his name—had grown complacent with them living together and expressed no desire to take things any further than that. Myles had considered living with a woman a big commitment and hadn’t quite understood what Gemma’s problem with the scenario was, but he’d listened to her, didn’t judge and most importantly hadn’t defended the guy. That had proved to be a smart move on his part and their relationship had taken on a confidant quality that he’d never experienced with a woman before.
Inviting her to National Harbor when he was there working over the Easter holiday had been an impromptu decision. His thought was that she lived in the vicinity and why not have a good friend to kick it with during his down time? As much as he’d been attracted to her when they first met in Temptation, her coming to National Harbor had been a purely platonic idea specifically because she seemed to be into the long-committed relationships that Myles swore he’d never have. They’d gone to the casino, seen a couple of shows, ate an insane amount of food, gotten far too tipsy that first night and still chatted and enjoyed each other’s company as friends. Then that last night things had escalated to them sleeping together.
The sex was phenomenal and he’d known immediately that he wanted more physical pleasure with her. Then she’d surprised him by agreeing to the terms of a noncommitted arrangement.
“You’re thinking about how to tell me that you don’t want more.”
At the sound of her voice, Myles stood from the bed. He’d put on sweatpants this time, a clean T-shirt and the suede, fur-lined slippers his mother had sent him for Christmas.
“No.” He lied and instantly felt bad about it. “I’m thinking that it makes sense that we revisit the parameters of our relationship. After all, it’s been a year since we met.” Stating the obvious wasn’t something he normally did.
In fact, Myles was an exceptionally good businessman, his company, Charleston Mariana Properties was rated in the top ten development groups nationwide for the last three years. He was known for being a visionary, selecting properties with historical meaning and crafting inspired spaces to be shared with the world. He also didn’t play about his money or his family, something that was synonymous with the Donovan name.
“I’ll start a fire and fix us some drinks. Meet me downstairs,” he told her.
Leaving the room and going to perform those tasks he’d just mentioned would buy him a little more time to get his words straight in his mind. He was a contemplator and could sometimes “think things into the ground”, as his mother would say. Myles simply liked to be intentional with his words. He wanted there to be no confusion as to what he meant and why he felt the way he did. Normally that didn’t require a lot of mulling over of a topic, but there was nothing normal about what he and Gemma had been doing.
She joined him in the living room a few minutes later. The fire was already blazing and he was about to walk across the room to the bar when she shook her head.
“I don’t need a drink for this discussion. But if you do, please help yourself.” She wore dark gray leggings now, with a pink shirt that hung off one shoulder and barely scraped the upper part of her thick thighs. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and on her feet were fluffy pink socks that reminded him of cotton candy.
He decided to forego the drink and instead, moved to the couch where she’d just taken a seat. There were four couches in this room, abstract designed rugs on the wood-planked floor, glass end tables and crystal-based lamps. Myles sat less than three feet away from her on the same couch.
She began the conversation without preamble. “When we first met up in April and our circumstances changed the way they did, we discussed what this “thing” between us would look like.”
“We did.” Because Myles was all about rules—the ones he’d put in place in his life to be able to function as he did.
“We weren’t attached to each other in any way. I wasn’t your woman and you weren’t my man. We owed each other no explanations for any missed calls or unanswered texts. We accepted our attraction to each other and agreed on appeasing a physical need when it suited us.”
Somehow, he hadn’t recalled their agreement sounding so sterile, functional and rigid.
“Right after that you met someone else and started a more serious type of relationship and I respected that.” Now this guy’s name he remembered—Shad Henry.
She nodded and sat back against the pillows on the couch. “The next time we met up was when Shad and I were on a break.” She used her fingers to mimic air quotes as she said that last word.
“And we again appeased…fulfilled a need for each other.” He still didn’t like her words.
By June when they met for a weekend at Virginia Beach, Myles’s need to be inside her had morphed into an addiction, one he’d worked like hell to keep in check when she told him she was giving Shad another chance.
Gemma and Shad had taken a second “break” in October and she’d called Myles to meet her at a bed and breakfast in Alexandria. Never in all his life had Myles considered himself a man who’d be at a woman’s beck and call, but he’d gone because he’d missed her more than he cared to admit.
“I settled for all the bullshit lines Shad fed me throughout this past year. Every lie or half-truth, every brush off, all of it. Just like I did for the four years I was with Howie. But I’m done with all that now. I’ve had enough.” She turned so that she was now sitting sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under her butt, her hands in her lap as she looked up at him. “I’m not going to turn into some cynical man-basher, but I’m also not going to settle for anything less than what I need at this time in my life.”
“Gemma—”
