Daniella smiled with obvious relief. It was small and a little wan, but it was the most genuine expression I’d seen on her face in a while. “Good to know we didn’t traumatize her.”
Reaching down to rub Sutton’s back, I considered going into more detail about last night. But the thought of sharing such an intimate conversation . . . I really didn’t want to. It felt wrong, damaging, like the things I’d revealed to Lacey would wither in the light of day. But my private talk with her still felt like another secret I was keeping from Daniella. Yet another brick in the growing wall between us.
In uncomfortable silence, we finished the last of our breakfast, facing each other across an invisible divide.
After breakfast, Daniella cleaned the dishes while I grabbed my laptop and headed into the office, needing to escape the weird vibe in our house.
? ? ?
Later that afternoon, Lacey invited me over for a drink. I want to talk to you, her short text had said.
A message like that was never good news. With every step from my truck to her apartment, my foreboding deepened. But when Lacey opened her door, still dressed in workout clothes from her run, I started to relax. She was so down to earth and easy to be around, it calmed me.
After a brief hello, she gestured to the couch. I sat down and she went to the kitchen to pour our drinks. She came back with a glass of lemon iced tea for herself and a tumbler of whiskey for me.
I took a sip; it was perfect, with just enough water to bring out the whiskey’s full flavor. She hadn’t struck me as a hard-liquor fan, so she must have bought a bottle just for me. And she remembered exactly how I liked it.
“How are you?” Lacey asked, her blue eyes bright and fixed on me.
Trying to keep my balance in an earthquake. “I’m fine. Are you still okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry I got so mad last night. I guess I just . . . I felt too much, and it surprised me. Everything all came out in the worst way.”
I reached out, wanting to take her hand and soothe her guilt. But she wasn’t finished.
Looking down at her cup, she bit her lip. “Seeing you like that made me realize something.”
Shit. I knew what she was about to say. The heavy atmosphere felt dark and inescapable.
“At first, I thought I could do this . . .” Lacey waved her hand, distressed, searching for the right words. “Sharing you with someone else. But it turns out I can’t.”
I exhaled slowly, trying to keep control. Fear and anger whirled through me all at once, squeezing my heart and roiling my stomach.
“Nolan?” She rested her hand on my arm. Her gentle touch, meant to reassure, burned my skin and clouded my thoughts. “I’m sorry to put you in this position. I didn’t want to force you to choose, like some kind of ultimatum.”
I forced myself to say something more coherent than swearing. “No, it’s okay. I know you’re not doing this to manipulate me. If you want monogamy, then that’s what you want.”
I wasn’t lying—I didn’t blame Lacey at all. Coming clean was much better than hiding her needs behind a plastic smile, getting more and more resentful, until our whole relationship blew up in my face. But knowing that didn’t help my feelings right now. Mainly because I had no fucking idea what I was going to do.
She nodded and a tentative smile appeared. “I’m glad you understand. I feel bad, but it’s just, realistically, I know I can’t go on like this.”
I knew what she was talking about. My bond and obligations to Daniella pulled me away. To give Lacey my full attention—which was what she needed from a lover—I would have to cut those ties and make Lacey a higher priority.
On some level, way in the back of my mind, I’d known this moment was coming. But feeling the gathering tension in the air hadn’t prepared me for the storm. I was caught between a rock and a hard place—a submissive who trusted and relied on me, and a new lover who I wanted more with.
And while I definitely felt something for Lacey, something real and good and pure, I’d have to sell my soul to hold on to it. And there was no fucking way I was ready to do that. Not now, possibly not ever.
Choosing Lacey meant uprooting my whole carefully constructed life. My independence, my simple pleasures, my freedom from pain. But not choosing her . . . the thought felt like a knife between the ribs.
Uncomfortable, I shifted, searching for a way to make her understand. “I told you in the beginning how I operated, what I was looking for.”
“You have feeling in that closed-off heart of yours,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve seen it. When you talk about those kids at the camp . . .”
“No. That’s just my way of ensuring one less kid falls down the rocky path I did. It’s nothing; trust me.”
Her eyes said something different.
Trapped, confused, I told her I needed to think and got the hell out of there.
As I drove toward town, I texted Greyson. Meet me at West’s? Even if he didn’t offer any useful advice, I could still get black-out drunk.
? ? ?
As soon as I sat down next to him at the bar, Greyson said, “Let me guess. This is about Lacey again.”