Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 19

MY EYES POP OPEN, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the night. I turn my head, checking the alarm clock that was left behind by the previous owner. All of the furnishings in this house came from them, and while they’re not necessarily my taste, they work in the moment.

The red numbers on the clock screen read 3:22.

Blindly I reach out, my hand hitting a solid, warm body lying next to me. Spencer. We had sex before we fell asleep, and it was…

It was so good. As usual.

“Why are you awake?” he murmurs into his pillow, his voice muffled.

“I had a dream. More like a memory.” I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him.

“What about?” he asks when I remain silent.

“The first time we met.”

He rolls over and hauls me into him, our bare skin colliding. He’s warmer than me, like a furnace, and I snuggle up close. Taking advantage of this moment, though it always feels like something bad is coming, just on the horizon.

I hate that feeling. Why can’t I ever just enjoy the moment?

“You dragged me into that shed and had your way with me,” he says against my temple.

I shove at his bare chest, marveling at how firm he is. “I was a year younger than you and you’re the one who corrupted me, getting me high for the first time.”

“And then you kissed me.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You’re the one who suggested we should kiss. That wasn’t my idea.”

“I remember it differently—”

“Nope, you’re wrong. It stuck with me, how you said earlier that I was the one who dragged you off somewhere, so we could make out, but the first time we kissed, it was all you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers sliding up and down my arm, making my skin tingle. This is so…nice. Just lying with him in my bed, talking. Sharing a moment about nothing serious.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “But after that first time, it was all you.”

I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart for a moment before I ask, “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get me high and kiss me.”

“I saw you sitting there by the tree and you looked so…sad. And bored. Bored out of your mind. I wanted to show you how to loosen up.”

“You were only fourteen.”

“And you were only thirteen.”

“You really wanted to show me how to loosen up?”

A sigh leaves him. “Fine. I wanted to get you alone, and I didn’t know how else to do it.”

I lift up on my elbow so I can stare down at him, shocked. “You did?”

He nods, reaching toward me, his fingers drifting across my cheek. “Pretty little blonde Sylvie Lancaster. You reminded me of a doll the first time I saw you.”

“A blow-up doll?”

Spencer chuckles. “No. One of those pretty little dolls kept on a shelf. Look but you can’t touch. That’s what I thought of when I first saw you. I can look, but no way can I touch. Whit told me I couldn’t.”

My mouth drops open. “What?”

“He warned me off you. Said I couldn’t come near you or he’d chop off my balls. I took the risk anyway. And once it happened, once you started to chase after me, he knew there wasn’t much he could do about it.”

I blink at him repeatedly, trying to process what he’s saying. “But we were so young.”

“And I was horny. All fourteen-year-olds are.”

“I was a baby.”

“A baby with sweet tits and big blue eyes who studied my every move. We were babies together, Syl.”

I think about that winter break when Spencer stayed the entire two weeks. The pretense of getting high together only happened twice. By the third time we found each other in an empty hallway of a forgotten wing of the house, he was yanking me into a dark corner, his mouth landing on mine easily. We kissed for what felt like hours, never coming up for breath until he was getting yet another text from Whit asking where he was.

I remember he told Whit he had stomach issues and he was always in the bathroom, which is so gross, but it kept Whit away from us. At least for a little bit.

“You went back to Lancaster Prep and forgot all about me,” I say, my voice brittle. I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the school year. Not a single peep, and we even exchanged phone numbers.

The jerk.

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“What happened?” I know what happened.

I just want to hear him say it.

“I got a girlfriend,” he admits. “But you know this.”

I do. I’m just a glutton for punishment.

“She was blonde. With blue eyes.” He touches my hair, his fingers tangling deep. “And she wasn’t as good a kisser as you.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes.

“It’s true.” He tugs on my hair, keeping me in place. “We were a natural fit back then.”

“We still are.”

Spence lets go of my hair and I readjust myself, sprawling across the top of him, thrusting my face in his. I can feel every inch of him beneath me growing tense, including his cock, and just like that, I want him again. I lower my hips, dragging my pussy against his erection, and he rests his hands on my hips, stopping me.

“I have to ask you a question.” His voice is deadly serious. “And I don’t want you distracting me with sex when I try.”

“I’m distracting you with sex before you try.” I reach down, my fingers searching for his balls and he grabs my wrist.

“What happened between you and Earl? Why did you marry him? Did he treat you well? What happened when he died?”

“That’s four questions,” I tell him, vaguely offended.

There’s the scary thing I felt sitting on the horizon, just out of reach. Now it’s here, resting between us, and he’s not going to let me avoid it any longer.

“I need more information, Syl. If we’re really going to make a go of this, I have to know…everything.” His grip on my wrist loosens, his thumb stroking the spot where my pulse beats rapidly. “You fucked me up so bad when you married him. I was fucking broken.”

My heart cracks at his admission. Spencer bottles most of his feelings up inside. He doesn’t like to talk about them. Like me.

But he’s being real with me right now, which means I need to do the same.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know what I did was wrong, and selfish. I just wanted one last chance with you. One last chance at us.”

“You knew you were going to marry him when you came to me that night, huh.” His voice is flat, tinged with devastation, and God, I am the worst human alive.

I’m quiet for a moment, the single word getting stuck in my throat before I’m finally able to croak it out.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t shove me away, and I’m grateful, I cling to him. I curl my hands around his shoulders and lie there on top of him, matching my breathing to his, savoring the feel of his bare skin against mine. He’s silent for so long, I start to think that’s it. He’s not going to say anything else about it, but I was wrong.

“Your mother made you marry him. Why?”

“She didn’t want me with you.”

“What the fuck, Syl? Are you serious?” He’s shouting so loud that, if we were outside, he’d send about a dozen birds flying from the trees from startling them so badly.

“She wanted me with someone of her choosing. Whit gave her the big fuck you by falling in love with Summer, and Carolina ran away to London, so no one could control her but dance, and that left me. Always me. I did what she wanted, because I was scared to go against her.” I feel like I’m repeating myself. “You already know this.”

“What was your marriage like? Did he fuck you?”

I press my lips together and close my eyes, knowing he won’t believe me. “No.”

“Bullshit.”

“He didn’t.”

“Right. You’re just trying to save my feelings. Well listen to this. I fucked other women. I’ve been fucking other women since the moment I met you. That girlfriend I got after winter break with you my freshman year? She was my first. I fucked her in my dorm room. I was her first too. She looked like you. One time, I called her Sylvie, and she got so pissed, she broke up with me.”

I wince at his words. I know he’s just trying to hurt me.

“And I’ve fucked plenty of others too, so you can go ahead and tell me the truth. I can take it,” he says irritably.

Can he though? Really?

“I’ve never fucked anyone else.” I rise up, so I can stare him straight in the eyes. “Only you, Spence.”

His hands find my hips, pressing into my skin. “Give me a break.”

“It’s true.”

“What about that asshole you took to Whit’s wedding?”

“Cliff?”

“Cliff?” He mimics my voice, high-pitched and girly, and I almost laugh, but I’m afraid it would piss him off even more. “Yes. Cliff. He looked like a pretentious asshole. Just your type.”

“Are you calling yourself a pretentious asshole? Because you’re definitely my type.” I roll my hips, letting him feel me, and he inhales deeply when I brush my pussy against him.

“You know what I’m saying. That guy was so territorial.”

“That guy is gay and he’s been on a couple of dates with Monty,” I say.

Spence goes still, his brows drawing together. “Serious?”

Nodding, I lean in, pressing my mouth to the side of Spencer’s jaw. “Serious.”

I continue kissing along his jawline, Spence staring off into the distance. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” I kiss his chin.

“I’m sorry I said all of that shit about being with other women. I was exaggerating.”

Relief makes my heart grow light. “Good.”

“Though you didn’t answer the most difficult question of all.”

I pause in my exploration of his face with my mouth. “What question is that?”

“What was your marriage like with Earl? What happened when he died? How did he die? Those details were never shared from what I could find.”

My heart bottoms out, and I choose to ignore it. “Can’t I answer that tomorrow?”

“No.” He slides one hand down, until he’s cupping my ass. “Stop trying to distract me and give me an answer.”

He’s being so bossy, and like the good little girl I’ve always been, I automatically answer him.

“Our marriage wasn’t much of one. We were wed only a little over a year when he died.”

“And how exactly did he die?”

A sigh leaves me. It’s difficult to explain, without offering up a few details first.

“He had a secret life,” I admit.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. Earl Wainwright was living a double life for years. It’s why his first wife left him. He paid her a lot of money to keep her mouth shut in the divorce settlement. I had to sign an NDA, once I discovered his dirty little secret. He tried to keep it from me, but of course, I found out.”

“And what the fuck was it?” Impatience fills his tone, and I hate it. I don’t want him angry with me.

I don’t want to give him any reason to leave.

A sigh leaves me and I rest my head on his chest once more, my cheek pressed against his hot skin. “He liked little boys.”

“What?” Spencer stiffens beneath me, and not in the good way.

“Not little. That’s the wrong word choice. He liked them young. Eighteen. Sometimes they were younger, though he always swore he asked before he attempted anything with them. But trust me, he didn’t usually ask.” A sigh leaves me and I shut my eyes. “His first wife found out and was destroyed. Told him he had to change or she wanted a divorce, and he couldn’t change. I mean, he did cheat on her throughout their marriage. I can’t blame her for divorcing him.”

Spencer is quiet for a moment, digesting the information, no doubt. “So he was gay?”

“He didn’t like to call himself that, didn’t appreciate the stigma that was attached to it, which I always thought was silly. But he comes from a different generation, you know? It would be his family’s shame, to realize that he was gay. But it was more than that. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with a man his own age. He didn’t want any sort of steady relationship at all, beyond a fake marriage to a pretty wife who could be his beard. What Earl liked, was hooking up with men who were barely old enough to vote. As many as he could.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” I lift my head, studying Spencer’s face. “When I found out, he told me that he chose me because he knew I had a lot of gay friends. Young gay friends.”

Spence grimaces. “He used you.”

I nod. “And I let him.”

He doesn’t say anything, and I eventually settle my head against his chest again, savoring the quiet, going over my relationship with Earl in my mind. How kind he was. Really, he wasn’t so bad. He had a thing for younger men, but how many guys Earl’s age have a thing for younger women and no one bats an eyelash?

It’s not fair. A total double standard.

“Your mother knew all of this?” Spencer asks out of nowhere.

“No,” I say immediately, “she wouldn’t have paired him with me if she did.”

“You so sure about that?”

I nod, trying to ignore the unease coursing through me. “When she found out, she was horrified. Extremely apologetic.”

“And when did she find out?”

“After Earl died.” I hesitate. “She really did feel bad. She thought she was making a proper match.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Irritation flits through my veins and I try to ignore it. “It’s my fault he died, you know.”

Spencer goes completely still beneath me, and I realize I’ve shocked him. Good. He’s being a little flippant right now.

“Why would you say that?” he asks warily.

“I was the one who paired him with the guy he was with when he…passed.” I sniff, fighting the wave of sadness that wants to overtake me. “I’m responsible for his death.”