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We eat, and Nate tells me about his time in the UK. It sounds wonderful, and I make a mental note to discuss maybe going there some time with Jordan. After we finish and clean up, I ask Nate what he plans on doing for July.
“Barry has a few feelers out. I might be leaving for the Hamptons early. I need to rest for a week or so. My ribs are still sore.”
He pulls up his shirt, and an angry black and purple bruise mark his left side just below his pec.
“How did that happen?”
“I got hit with something, not sure what. The next thing I knew, I was being loaded into an ambulance, and my stomach was killing me.”
“You were lucky.”
“Someone was watching out for me.”
We talk about what happened until Nate starts to yawn. It’s getting late, and it’s so nice to have him back home. We both retire to our rooms, and my cell rings as I settle into bed.
“Hey doll, just got out of my meeting. I wish I could see you tonight.”
“Me too. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. How’s Nathaniel?”
“He’s good. Sore and bruised, but okay. Thank you so much for transporting him. He really appreciates it.”
“I did it for you. I want you to be happy and not worry.”
“I am. I love you, Jordan.”
“Ditto. I have a call. Sleep, tight baby. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I hang up and slide under the sheets, falling asleep quickly. A sickening howl awakens me and it seems to be getting louder. I sit up sharply and throw the covers off. Nate. Throwing open his door, I snap on the light. His body is contorted, and he’s gripping the sheets so tightly in his fist that his knuckles are white. I’m not sure how to wake him, but I need to before the neighbors call the police.
I shake him, and he lashes out with his arm, narrowly missing my stomach. He’s still asleep, and his howls get louder. I call his name loudly several times, and his eyes finally spring open. His moans silence, and he focuses on me with a wild look.
“What, what happened?”
“Shit, Nate. You were having a nightmare.”
“It’s not the first one.”
Nate had nightmares when we first lived together. His childhood was not stable with two alcoholic parents. He told me he often slept under the porch to escape their drunken binges and fights.
“When did they come back?”
“The first night I was in the hospital. That blast triggered them. I was so loud that they sedated me.”
“Are you okay now?”
“No. Baby girl, can you sleep with me?”
In the beginning, I slept in his bed, and the nightmares went away with me there. That went on for a few months. I haven’t slept in his bed for two years, but I don’t mind. I slide in next to him and let him curl around my body for comfort. He possessively wraps his arm around my belly and tucks his hand under my side. Now that I have Jordan, it feels strange, but I tell myself that Nate is my best friend, not a man in line to bed me.
For the rest of the week, I’m conflicted between sleeping at Jordan’s and sleeping in Nate’s bed. I compromise, having dinner, and making love before Albert brings me home for the night. I know it’s not the perfect scenario, but I want to be there for my best friend. Jordan usually travels in the limo with me, and we either make out, or he fingers me for one last orgasm to remember him by as he puts it. Like I could ever forget the sex we have.
I decided that it would be prudent not to tell Jordan that I’m sleeping in Nathaniel’s bed. He wouldn’t understand. The last thing I need is an argument. Each night, I snuggle into bed, and Nate pulls me against him. He hasn’t had a nightmare, and I hope that he’ll be alright over the weekend. I promised Jordan that I would attend his mother’s garden party in Greenwich.
The next morning, Friday, I tell Nate that I won’t be home on the weekend.
“Are you going to be alright?”
