27

tabby

 

“Good night, Aunt Tabs,” Greyson said, giving me a hug before turning to Sebastian with a hug for him as well. “Night, Dad.”

At the bottom of the stairs, we watched him walk up to his room, and I waited for the door to be closed before looking to Sebastian. His usual fun, exuberant exterior had crumbled away to leave trails of tears streaming in jagged lines over his cheeks and into his beard. With more strength than I knew I possessed, I caught him before he sank to the floor and led him to the couch.

It was only then that I realized I was crying, too.

I didn’t realize one little word could have such an effect.

With his arms around me and his head against my shoulder, Sebastian and I cried together without a single word uttered. A blended cocktail of grief and relief spilled out over our shirts and into our hair. Moments passed before he lifted his head and sought my lips, possessing my mouth with a passion beyond friendship and casual fucking. His hands slipped from my back and into my hair, pulling my braid free and transforming me into the unkempt wild woman I could only be for him.

Greyson could’ve caught us at any time, but I welcomed his hand, cupping my breast over the t-shirt I wore to bed, and I initiated the shimmy out of my pants. Unzipping his jeans, he laid me down, kissing his forehead to mine as we fit together in one, smooth stroke.  

“Don’t say when, Tabby,” he whispered, cupping my face in his palms. “I’m not what you want, I know that. Just don’t say when.”

“That’s not how the song goes.” I searched his eyes, meeting his hips with mine, thrust for thrust. “I’m supposed to make you promise not to stop if I say—”

He shook his head, lifting the corner of his mouth in a sad smile. “I know better than to promise you anything. Just don’t say when. Please. Not yet.”

“Okay.” I kissed his eyelids and his forehead, smoothing my hands through his hair, and as I wrapped my legs around his waist, I replied, “I won’t.”

 

***

 

We woke up on the couch, puffy-eyed and dry-mouthed. He lifted his head from my breast and kissed me gently on the cheek before getting up and walking into the kitchen. With a glance at my phone, I saw that it was only seven in the morning, and I yawned, ready to head back to bed as Sebastian came in with a glass of water.

“Has he ever said that before?” I asked, as he took a long sip from the glass before handing it to me.

“On the way over here last night,” he told me, nodding. His voice was already edging on the brink of tears again. “He told me he loves me,” and the depth I was so used to hearing shot up an octave.

Smoothing a hand over his back, I pressed my forehead to his shoulder, kissing his arm. “Oh, Sebastian …”

He sucked in a heavy breath. “I never thought he’d call me his dad. I got so used to being called man or dude. Hell, I don’t think he’s ever even called me by my name.”

“Maybe because he knew it’d be wrong,” I offered, stroking my hand down over his arm and lacing my fingers with his.

He nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, probably. That makes sense. I just … I’d thought he was gone for all this time, and to now hear him call me his dad just …” He wiped a hand over his face and laughed without humor. “God, I’m being fucking ridiculous. You’re probably like, ‘This fucking guy wakes me up to crash at my place, and ends up blubbering like a baby.’”

“No,” I pressed, lifting my head and pulling him into my gaze, touching my palm to his cheek. “You’re not ridiculous. You’re reacting exactly how I would’ve hoped a decent man would.”

His eyes held mine. “You think I’m decent.”

“Sebastian, you’re more than decent. You are …” I shook my head, stealing away from his stare to look toward our tangled fingers. How could this feel so right, when I knew how wrong it was? “You’re everything I shouldn’t want.”

“And yet, here we are,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

I couldn’t reply. I could only nod and stand up, leading him up to my room and hoping Greyson slept in.

 

***

 

I walked into work bearing the weight of an identity crisis.

For years, I had worked on reinventing myself and learning to be comfortable in my new skin. I wore the appropriate business attire, I spoke in a polite and acceptable manner. I kept my sneakers and leather jacket in the closet, reserving them only for moments when I could unleash my inner self and be free.

Sebastian made me feel free.

He was fun and honest with himself. He was everything I knew I couldn’t be. I needed to avoid the judgements of society in a business world. To live the life of a responsible adult and not fall victim to the same fates and stigmas as my sister, the single mother who could never relax or settle down. And look at what happened to her, proving my point in a twisted heap of metal after one final night of sex and drinking.

It felt cruel and wrong, that if I were to have met him at another point in my life, maybe even at that concert, we could have been so right. We could have been perfect. We could have lived together in a world of rock stars and perpetual youth. And maybe that meant there never would’ve been a Greyson. Maybe there never would have been the accident that stole my sister’s life. But there would have been an us.

And that almost felt worth it.

I sat behind my desk feeling like a specter of myself. A barely-there apparition in a scenario that didn’t quite fit. I looked at the paperwork, looked at my briefcase, and wondered to myself how I even got here.

Jess walked into the office with a stack of paper tucked under an arm and immediately pinched her brows. “Hey, are you okay?”

Touching the edge of my desk, I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a long night.”

“What happened?” she asked, setting the papers aside and taking a seat.

“Sebastian and Greyson came by after they were at Hershey Park,” I told her, creating the scenario and wondering how far I could go before I couldn’t say anymore.

“Okay?” She gestured for me to elaborate, because obviously there had to be more.

“Greyson called Sebastian his dad for the first time.”

Jess’s mouth dropped. “Oh my God, that had to be an emotional thing.”

I nodded, already feeling the tightness in my throat and the sting in my eyes. “It really was. And after Greyson went to bed, Sebastian …” A vivid image of a grown man falling apart flashed before my eyes. “He completely lost it.”

“Oh, God,” Jess sighed ruefully, tipping her head and frowning. “I hate when men cry. Nothing wrecks me quite like that.”

“It was rough,” I agreed. I leaned forward in my chair, beginning to shuffle things around my desk. Trying to make it feel right. Trying to make it look more like me.

Who am I, anyway?

“Is that it?”

I raised my eyes to hers. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, it’s emotional, yeah, but you just seem completely off right now. Did something else happen?”

I placed my stapler next to the tape dispenser, thinking for a second that it looked right, until a second later when it didn’t. I shifted them again. Still not right. Maybe next to the paperclips, or maybe—

“Tabitha?” Jess’s tone was urgent, tugging me away from my reorganization. “God, what’s going on with you?”

“Jess,” I cleared my throat, dropping the stapler next to the cup of pens. “Have you ever looked at your life and felt like you don’t know who you are anymore? Like, you look around at everything and you wonder how exactly you got there?”

She fixed her thoughtful gaze on the pens and shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess so. I think everybody feels like that from time to time.”

“I think I’m going through an existential crisis or something.”

“But why? What happened?”

I looked up at her, the woman who I considered to be my closest friend, and asked, “Do you know I have my nipples pierced?”

“Whoa. Okay. I was not expecting you to say that just now.” Jess blinked a few times, leaning back in her chair. “No, I can’t say I knew that.”

“Well, I do,” I told her, nodding. “And I have this huge tattoo over my upper back, and I am so much happier in my Chucks than I ever am in these stupid heels.”

Her smile was sympathetic. “Honey, I don’t know a single woman who wouldn’t prefer to wear jeans than dress pants to work, but it’s work,” Jess laughed, staring at me as though I had completely lost it. And maybe I had. “I just don’t understand why this is a problem. Okay, so you have a tattoo and crazy piercings and you like wearing sneakers. Big deal.”

“I can’t be a professional adult and have the things I really want.” My office was a confessional and she was my priest.

“O-kay,” she drawled, taking in my words with a nod. “What do you want?”

I tipped back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. “Imagine this for a second, okay. Imagine I’ve moved up in the world of real estate, which is a very real possibility, now that I’m working for someone like Roman. I’m somewhat renown, people in circles know my name, and I’m invited to things where I have to schmooze with business moguls and celebrities. You with me?”

“Uh-huh ...”

“Okay.” I pressed my fingers to my eyes and pulled in a deep breath. “Now, imagine my date. Imagine he has long hair that he refuses to cut, imagine he has tattoos on nearly every part of his body, and imagine that he can’t keep his stupid mouth shut. How would that look for me? How would it look to go to a very upper-class dinner with a man who doesn’t even own a pair of dress shoes?”

Jess’s lips parted in a silent gasp. “Oh, shit. You and …” She didn’t dare say his name. Not even Thor was appropriate for the moment. “I, um … I don’t know. Are you seriously asking this question right now?”

I simply nodded, having no other words to add.

“Well, the Beckhams make it work,” she offered weakly. “I mean, look at David, right? He’s covered in ink and Victoria is classy, and—”

“I’m not saying there aren’t exceptions to the rule,” I interjected, looking back to her with a heated sigh. “But I’m saying, realistically, how would it look for me if I’m trying to make connections with people, and my date is blurting out in the middle of a dinner party that he—I don’t know!—doesn’t like the guy I’m talking to because he leaned into me.”

She tipped her head curiously. “Did that—”

The door to the agency opened and I shooed her from the office to see who it was.

“Hi, Jessica,” came Roman’s smooth as silk voice. “Is Tabitha in today?”

Oh, fate. You cruel son of a bitch.

“Good morning, Mr. Dolecki. Yeah, she’s right in her office. You can go in.”

I imagined wiping my entire existence clean in the few seconds it took for Roman to walk from the door to my office, starting from my toes, to the braid draped over my shoulder. I crossed my legs, straightened my skirt, smoothed my shirt and its ruffled collar, and squared my shoulders. Lastly, I propped my chin on an invisible pedestal, holding my head up high and tensing my features. To look proper. To look appropriate.

He appeared in my doorway, crisp tailored suit and perfectly positioned silk tie between the lapels of his jacket. It was hot, too hot for a suit, but he appeared cool and collected as though he walked around in a separate world from the rest of us. One where the sun shone but it was never too hot. Never too hot for suits.

“Tabitha.” He said my name the way you would order a dessert. Something that should make you feel guilty, but the desire is too big for shame. “Good morning.”

“Roman,” I nodded my chin and extended a hand. “How are you?”

We never shook. He simply took my hand and squeezed, holding us together in the air as he said, “I’m great, actually. I have had the pleasure of roaming around town, and I have to be honest—do you mind if I sit?” He gestured toward the chair in front of my desk.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Please,” I urged him, releasing his hand.

Roman wasn’t a big man, but his power radiated from every pore and puffed him up to the point of being too large for this office. I wondered about his own office, where I had yet to go. How big must it be, to contain a man like this?

“Thank you,” he said, finally settled in the seat and crossing an ankle over a knee. “As I was saying, I’ve found that I absolutely love this town. It’s quaint, with a personality the city lacks in greatly.”

“Oh, I think Manhattan has plenty of personality,” I disagreed diplomatically.

“It does, if you prefer the raucous type,” he tipped his chin, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “like that friend of yours I met on Friday. What was his name?”

The insinuation lodged somewhere in my throat. “Ah, you mean Sebastian.”

“Yes. Sebastian.” He nodded, interlacing his fingers and hooking his palms around his knee. “If I may be so blunt, I was surprised to see someone like you with a man like him.”

The moment was fated. It was no coincidence that this would be happening right after my emotional night with Sebastian and after my conversation with Jess. It was also no coincidence that I would be talking about this with Sebastian’s direct opposite. The Yin to his Yang. My past and my present, without any clue of which would be my future.

“Well, he is my nephew’s father,” I reasoned, edging my voice with a warning to tread lightly.

“Right,” Roman nodded thoughtfully before waving a dismissive hand. “When I was a younger man, Manhattan was the goal. If I could make it there, I could make it anywhere, as the saying goes, and I did. But I feel …” Tipping his head to the side, he pinched his lips as though considering what to say next, before dropping his eyes back to mine. “I feel too old for that lifestyle now. The partying, the rush-rush-rush, the stress … I know you’re a little younger than I am, but do you know what I mean?”

It was eerie, to say the least. “If I’m being honest, Roman, I’m not entirely sure what lifestyle is best for me at this point,” I spoke frankly.

He smiled with an understanding. “It’s difficult to make a decision that could easily have an effect on your entire life, which is why I think I’ve hesitated for so long to get out of the city. But then, the Worthington house popped up in my search, and I didn’t even allow myself to overanalyze it, in the way I might’ve at one point. I just accepted it, you know? It just was.”

I shuddered, not meaning to, as I blinked several times and struggled to process what he just said. The synapses in my brain weren’t clicking. It felt like these two men from separate worlds were both having the same conversation with me at once. A metaphorical tug of war that I wasn’t sure anybody was truly meant to win.

“Was there a reason you came in here today?” I asked, not intending to sound so agitated and impatient.

“Well, actually, I wanted to ask you to dinner, before I head back to the city.”

“Dinner?” I repeated. “To discuss business?”

Roman smiled almost bashfully, tipping his head downward. “Well, I suppose we could talk business, but I think I’d prefer to discuss you instead.”

A bolt of lightning struck my tongue, disabling my ability to speak, as the door to the agency jingled open. A duo of voices, a trio of laughs, and a pair of footsteps. It was all happening so quickly, I couldn’t process what was happening, until the doorway to my office was flooded with the forms of Sebastian and Greyson.

“Oh, Roman. Hey,” Sebastian immediately greeted, walking into the office to suffocate us all. “Good to see you again, man. Sorry to interrupt—”

“Oh, not at all,” Roman replied, not even beginning to hide his irritation.

“Great,” Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice suit, by the way. What is this? Silk? Cotton?”

“It’s a cotton blend, yes.” Roman straightened his lapels, cocking his head and staring ahead toward the wall.

“Beautiful. Designer?”

Roman turned to glare upward, and Sebastian tipped his head expectantly. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Ah, very nice. I was only wondering because, you know, award ceremonies are coming up. I’ve gotta figure out who I’m wearing—they say that, right? Who? Anyway, last year, at the Grammys, I wore Armani. Nice suit, but God,” he turned to me, “that thing was fucking hot as Satan’s—”

“Sebastian,” I cut him off, pleading with my eyes for him to leave me alone and allow the adults to conduct their business. All the while hoping he’d never leave again.

With his lips parted, he turned to me, staring momentarily as though his thoughts and words had suddenly been forgotten. “Oh, right, yeah. Uh, Greyson and I are hitting the road, so we thought we’d stop by and see you before we left.”

“You locked up the house?” I asked, completely ignoring the terse line of Roman’s lips and the ticking muscle in his jaw.

“Oh, shit, was I supposed to?” Sebastian turned to Greyson, his eyes widened with mock horror before looking back to me with tired sincerity. “Of course I locked up, Tabby.”

I rolled my eyes with a lighthearted laugh. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Yep.”

An awkward silence wedged itself into the middle of the room. Roman, with his fingers tapping together irritably, and Sebastian, possibly replaying the moments from the night before, both keeping their eyes on me. These two opposites, both of them wanting me in a way I couldn’t quite understand.

I looked up to Sebastian with a smile. “I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

His gaze dropped to my lips. He wanted to kiss me goodbye. A sadness, a loneliness, a longing flickered over his gaze as he swallowed. The secrecy of our relationship—it just is—was weighing on him, and I wondered how long we could keep it going, or if we should at all.

He settled for bending over and kissing my cheek, moments before Greyson stepped into the room and mirrored the affection on my other side.

“Bye, Aunt Tabs,” he said with a smile, before turning to Sebastian, “I’ll be in the car, Dad.”

Sebastian nodded, and Greyson left, leaving the three of us alone.

As though Roman wasn’t sitting there with us, Sebastian turned his entire body toward me and said, “He’s saying it all the time. It’s so fucking weird.”

“It’s a good thing,” I assured him, smiling gently.

Roman cleared his throat, and we both turned to look at him. With eyes only on Sebastian, he asked, “Isn’t your son waiting for you?”

Anger flared in my gut at the comment, but before Sebastian could open his mouth and say something I’d regret for the both of us, I stood up and took him by the arm. Smiling apologetically at Roman, I said, “So sorry about this. Will you please excuse us for just a moment?”

I dragged Sebastian from the room before Roman could reply. I felt Jess’s eyes on our backs as I pulled him into the bathroom and closed the door behind us.

“Can I just remind you how much I don’t like that guy? He chafes my dick just looking at him,” Sebastian casually mentioned, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest.

“Your feelings toward him are irrelevant,” I reminded him.

“Why is he here?” he demanded.

“That’s none of your business,” I stated firmly.

“O-kay,” he drawled slowly, tightening his stance. “Then, can I ask why you dragged me into the bathroom? Or is that none of my business too?”

I don’t entirely know why, but I felt the need to confess, “Roman asked me out.”

Sebastian lifted his eyes to the ceiling, studying the mini chandelier Alex had installed not too long ago. His jaw shifted as he chewed his bottom lip. “Well, can’t say I didn’t see that one coming,” he replied, his voice graveled and unexpectedly emotional.

“You called it.” I tried smiling in the way that people in the movies do when in these awkward moments, but I couldn’t find it in me. “I think I’m going to accept. Just to see how it goes.”

“Yeah, you should,” he encouraged, and yet, he still wouldn’t look at me. “When am I going to see you again?”

I knew what he was really asking. If we were over, whatever we were. But I saw no reason to tell him we were done when I was simply having dinner with Roman, so I replied, “What are you guys doing this weekend?”

Dropping his gaze to mine, he tried to smile. He wasn’t very successful. “Seeing you, apparently.”

I nodded, stepping toward him and pressing my hands to his chest. I felt myself stealing his breath as I kissed him. Would kissing Roman be like this? Would he struggle to regain function over his lungs? Would his heart hammer wildly beneath my hands?

“Get home safe,” I whispered against his lips, closing my eyes as he opened the door and left.

If Sebastian makes me feel free, how would Roman make me feel?