Page 253 of Hate to Love You

At least that’s what my mother used to call it.

I glance over at Abby, who lays sleeping on the bed next me, after I fucked her brains out. The pale moonlight filters through the window, illuminating her naked body wrapped up in the dark gray sheets, her hand resting on my chest.

Softly, I raise mine and place it gently on top of hers.

I still can’t believe she’s here.

Well, I guess it’s more like I can’t believe I’m here.

This clusterfuck of a romance has been insane to say the least. And it’s even more insane to think about the fact that a few months ago this woman was the very ghost who only haunted my dreams…and my regrets. But now I’m here, in her house, in her bed, with her.

And she is mine.

But even that sentence feels so surreal to say out loud, because I never wanted this.

To me, choosing to be with just one person, forever, sounded like the equivalent of stuffing your dick into a blender: self-imposed misery.

It’s actually a big part of why Jaxon Pace and I had gotten on so well for nearly a decade. We’d had countless discussions, albeit inebriated discussions, on the emotional prison that was monogamy. In fact, in one of those drunken philosophical word-vomit sessions, the two of us had made a pact that we’d never allow the other to walk off the matrimonial plank.

But then, a few years later, he did.

In truth, I’d lied to him the other night at dinner.

I could’ve attended his wedding to Natalie, but I chose not to. And it wasn’t because I was disappointed in him, or trying to uphold some stupid promise made between two drunk guys in a bar.

It was because I was jealous.

Jaxon might be older than me, and have more money, power, and influence, but none of those things had ever intimidated me, or made me feel inferior.

Yet somehow this did.

We’d only had one conversation about Natalie, but even I knew from just that one conversation that my oldest friend, confidant, and even occasional brother-in-arms, was utterly enamored by this woman. And yeah, after seeing her, I could understand the appeal.

But it wasn’t just the fact that she was pretty.

Because we’d been so close, I’d seen him with plenty of pretty women, models, influencers, socialites. And I’d even seen him with Rachel, his first real girlfriend, and the mother of his child. But their relationship had been chaotic and toxic, often leaving him pissed off and spiraling, needing to trip out on some drugs and bury his dick in a stripper.

In a way, women had always been just another drug to Jaxon. Another vice to occupy his time.

Until her.

Natalie had changed Jaxon in a way that I’d never thought was possible. She had bravely accepted his life, and his darkness, while also giving him hope of a future. She’d taken on her role more than just his paramour, but as his wife, supporting him, bolstering him, while also being able to settle him when he threatened to go off the rails.

And listening to him tell me about how things were “different,” and “real,” had made me happy for him, but it had also made me envious that he had found someone who was capable of doing and being all of those things for him.

Because I hadn’t found it.

I wasn’t settling down with anyone. Hell, I was the “Russian Rooster,” and the “One Night Stand Man.” I was the prick who would bring a bitch home, fuck her, and then kick her out of my penthouse in the morning without feeling a drop of remorse.

However, deep down, in the darkest corner, of the most reclusive and clandestine parts of my soul, the truth sat defiantly staring back at me. No matter how I denied it, or fought against it, I knew that I craved the very thing I disparaged: A family.

And not just any family. No, a happy family. A wife, and kids, and a life with my siblings that brought me joy.

The truth was, that I didn’t want to do this all alone, and I wanted a worthy partner by my side.

My muse. My Aphrodite. My home.

But this was nothing more than a fantasy.