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“You have a maid for those things,” I reminded her, trying to keep my irritation in check.
“She doesn’t do my laundry, and I’m almost out of underwear.”
“I like you without any underwear,” I quipped, hoping to lighten the tension.
“Of course you do,” she replied flatly, clearly not in the mood for jokes.
Erika stood up and began packing her laptop into her briefcase. I followed her down to the bedroom, watching as she tossed off the black t-shirt she’d been wearing. It was mine, but it fit her like a short dress. I leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, as she rifled through the drawer I’d given her in my dresser.
The silence between us was heavy, filled with the unspoken things we both knew needed to be addressed but weren’t ready to confront. I hoped she would eventually be honest with me, but deep down, I feared that day might never come.
“You don’t have to watch me,” Erika commented, glancing at me over her shoulder as she rifled through the drawer.
“I want to watch you,” I replied, my voice low and steady. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she pulled on a pink bra to match the panties she had already slipped into. She then grabbed a pair of gray terry shorts—almost identical to the ones I was wearing—and tugged them on before slipping a black tank top over her head.
“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” I asked, my tone more serious than I intended.
Erika paused, her hand lingering on the hem of her shirt as she straightened it out. “I have work to do,” she finally said, not meeting my gaze. “I won’t be able to focus if you’re there.”
I crossed the room in two quick strides, gently cupping her chin in my hand and tipping it up so she had no choice but to look at me. “Have I done something wrong?” I asked, searching her eyes for an answer she seemed reluctant to give.
“Nothing,” she said stubbornly, her jaw tightening. “I just need some space.”
I let my hand drop, the warmth of her skin slipping away as I backed off. “I’m sorry if you think I’m crowding you.”
She exhaled slowly, her breath a whisper in the tense silence between us. “We’re moving very fast,” she clarified, her voice softer now. “I love you, but I need some time.”
I nodded, trying to keep the disappointment from bleeding into my expression. “I’ll let you have it.”
Turning away, I walked out of the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I reached my office, I sank into the leather chair and stared blankly at my open laptop. The ache in my chest was more than I could bear, a tightness in my throat that threatened to choke me. I couldn’t lose her. Not again. The thought of another separation was unbearable, but I knew pushing her would only make things worse. It always did.
A few minutes later, I heard her soft footsteps pass by my door. She didn’t say goodbye. The click of the front door closing behind her was the only sound that punctuated the oppressive silence. The melancholy set in like a fog, dulling my senses, and all I could do was sit there, wondering if I’d ever be able to break through the walls she kept so firmly in place.
"How do you stand it?" I asked Michael, my voice tight with frustration. He was the only one who would understand, the only one I could turn to when everything felt like it was unraveling. I’d tried to focus on work, but my thoughts kept circling back to Erika, and I couldn’t get a damn thing done. So, I called him.
“I just do,” Michael replied with a sigh that spoke volumes. “Morgan isn’t mine.”
“But she’s out there in the world in another man’s arms,” I pointed out, the bitterness seeping into my words.
“And there isn’t a thing I can do about it,” he said, a resignation in his tone that made my chest tighten. “I’m working on accepting it.”
“Erika’s upset with me. What the hell is wrong with us Elliott boys?” I muttered, more to myself than him. “We get stuck on someone and can’t get away. Talon’s no better with Storm.”
“She’s twisting his heart around,” Michael agreed. “Our little brother is smitten.”
“Talon’s more than smitten,” I added, my hand gripping the phone tighter. “Dad sent him to the grounds a couple of days ago, but he couldn’t get his head together on the job site. That’s dangerous when you’re two hundred and fifty feet in the air.”
“Yeah, it is,” Michael said quietly. “Poor kid, but we all seem to be in the same boat. What’s the problem with Erika?”
“Commitment,” I sighed, the word heavy on my tongue. “I thought I was the one with the problem. She had a shitty childhood with dueling parents. They had an ugly divorce. She hasn’t even told them about me. We’ve been together roughly three months, and I’m a secret.”
“Have you told Mom and Dad about her?” Michael asked, his voice probing.
“Briefly,” I admitted, leaning back in my chair.
“You can’t fault her because you’re doing the same thing.”
