Page 67 of Dad Next Door
“Me too.” More relief washed over me. “Do you have any boundaries for me? I can stop dancing at the club. I just need to talk to Biggs?—”
“No,” he said firmly. “Your jobs are separate from us. I don’t want you to change anything because of me. I’m not someone who puts rules on people like you can’t hang out with other men or go to clubs or whatever. I might have let Simon walk all over me in our home life, but it was over the second I found out he cheated on me, and I never once thought about forgiving him or fighting for him. As soon as my trust is broken, it can’t be repaired.”
The last of my anxiety dissipated. This was what a relationship with an adult looked like. Mutual trust and honesty—two things that were paramount to me as well. “We’re on the same page on that. My ex-girlfriend cheated on me, and I was the same way. It was a long time ago, but it was over the second I found out, and I’ve never looked back.”
He smiled, his shoulders dropping slightly as he relaxed too.
“There’s one thing you should know about me.” Lowering my gaze, I spun the dial with printed numbers around on my watch. I had a bunch of hidden fidget devices like rings and pendants that I could wear, and little cube ones I kept in my pockets for when I needed more than just a spinning watch or ring. “I need to take things slow.”
“Slow?” he asked softly when I fell silent.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat.
I’d spent years talking about sexual limits with my scene partners and never once felt shy or unsure but doing it with Tristan was nerve-racking. I didn’t think he’d judge me, but the fear that he’d realize I wasn’t what he wanted was still there.
“It takes time for me to be comfortable enough with someone to be able to relax and enjoy physical intimacy. But it seems like dating culture has shifted from courtship to everything happening at lightning speed. Lust and love have become synonymous, and it’s expected to have sex first and worry about compatibility later. It’s all about instant gratification and orgasms. At least from what I’ve observed.” I spun the dial on my watch faster. “I don’t judge people who want that, and I’m not saying orgasms are bad, but they’re not the be-all and end-all of intimacy. Getting to know what each other likes and exploring it together, anticipating the next thing you get to share. For me, that’s way better than just getting off with someone. I know it’s weird, but I need an emotional connection with my partner. Otherwise it’s empty, and I’d rather not bother than have any more meaningless or empty sex.”
Tristan leaned forward and rested his hand on my knee. I’d never really been a hand person, but I liked Tristan’s. His long fingers, the short, blunt nails that suggested he bit them when he was younger. The wide palms and thick wrists, even the little sprinkling of hair on the backs of them, were sexy. And I loved how strong he was while still having soft skin that was the opposite of my calloused mitts.
“I know exactly what you mean, and it’s not weird. I need that too.” He leaned back since our chairs were too far apart for him to keep touching me comfortably.
“I haven’t been with anyone new in almost fifteen years. And if I’m being honest, it’s been almost that long since I enjoyed sex.”
I snapped my eyes up. Had Simon hurt him? Anger replaced my earlier shame, but I did my best to keep my expression neutral and not make the situation about my feelings.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said.
Oops, looked like I failed at hiding my true feelings.
“Simon’s an asshole, but he’s not violent. His thing was control.” Tristan sighed heavily and picked up the soda can he’d put down during my impromptu performance. He stared at the brightly colored metal and squeezed it, creating little cracks that echoed in the garage.
“Tris?” I asked when he fell silent.
“Things between us were never great, but they weren’t bad. At least not in the beginning. He didn’t really put a lot of effort into making sex good for me, but at least he wanted it back then. Our sex life pretty much died when we brought Leo home. I thought things would get better when we adjusted to being parents, but it didn’t. He hardly ever initiated it, and it got to the point where we were only having sex maybe once every few months, and even less toward the end. And I stopped trying to start things because there’s only so many times you can get rejected by your husband before it fucks with your head. I have no idea if Jace was the first side piece, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were others. He had to be getting it somewhere if he didn’t want it at home.”
I bit my lip so I didn’t interrupt and go on a rant about how withholding or weaponizing sex was emotional manipulation and a form of abuse. He knew that, and he didn’t need me to bring it up when he was already feeling vulnerable and reliving his trauma.
“The last time we were together was…not great. It was empty and cold and so impersonal. Like he was a stranger. I felt like a thing. Like a sex doll or a toy and not like his partner of fourteen years. Then he rolled over, got out of bed, and said he was going to his office to do some work because he couldn’t sleep. A month later, he walked out on me and I found out about Jace.” He lifted his eyes. “I need slow too. Always have. I like all the stuff you mentioned. The anticipation, learning about my partner and figuring out what we like and what works for us. And now I can’t even imagine letting someone have that kind of power over me again unless I completely trust them and know they’ll treat me right.”
“I’m sorry you went through that. I can’t say anything that will erase what happened to you, but I’d rather jump in front of a speeding bus than hurt you. And I also know you’re not directing any of this at me. This isn’t a not all men moment. I just want you to know that I understand there are things in your past that still affect you today.”
“Gotta love trauma.” He chuckled, but it was forced and strangled.
“My intrusive thoughts are telling me to break out into song so I can see you smile again,” I said to hopefully lighten the mood. I didn’t want to drag up any more of his trauma tonight. He’d been through enough the past few days.
He chuckled, the light coming back to his eyes. “I mean, I’ll never say no to a private performance. Especially if you add in a dance number. But I’m okay. And I don’t want to waste any more time thinking about Simon or my marriage.”
I glanced at my watch to check the time. “When do you work tomorrow? Are you opening or doing a closing shift?”
“Opening.” He made a face. “I was supposed to close this week, but they redid the schedule, and I’m covering Eric’s opening shifts now that he quit.” He pulled his phone out and checked the time. His groan told me he also hadn’t realized how late it was. “I should go. It’s been hours since the dog walker left, and I need to get ready for work tomorrow.”
“Yeah. I have to do some work before bed too.”
“Work at this time of night?” He stood and looked down at the can he was still holding like he only just remembered it existed.
I took it from him and went to toss it in the recycling bin. “I need to film some content so I can schedule the posts for it. This week is going to be busy, and I have no idea what the next few weeks will look like, other than having to get on a big boy sleep schedule again.”
When I was facing Tristan, he looked as unsure and off-kilter as I felt.