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I begin. My voice catches on “Duchess” and I force it through whole.
Heather withholds her judgment. I tell myself I don’t want it.
She watches to see if I’ll try to close the book.
Jamie is still smiling from my bed like the poem belongs to him now.
I don’t close the book.
CHAPTER 23
Jamie
This morning, Heather came on my cock while Oliver read poetry from a chair beside the bed.
He missed one word. She hit him for it. I haven’t decided which part I like remembering most.
Heather stands at my vanity now, putting on the black earrings she wore when she went out to collect him. They hang almost to her jaw and move when she tilts her face toward the mirror.
There’s water on my nightstand. The pill isn’t beside it.
I look at her reflection. “Where’s my pill?”
Heather meets my eyes in the mirror. “You don’t need one tonight.”
“You’re taking me with you?”
“No.”
My hand closes around the edge of the mattress.
She chose my clothes after dinner. Black trousers fitted close through the hips, the dark green shirt she likes against my skin, boots instead of anything soft enough to sleep in.
I imagined standing beside her somewhere public. People would look at us and see a woman with her beautiful boyfriend. They wouldn’t know she keeps a ruler in her pocket or that she locks me away when she’s finished. They would only know she chose me.
Heather finishes her lipstick.
I look at my open bedroom door. “Are you locking me in?”
“No.”
The answer makes the empty space beside the water feel different.
“Can I leave the room?”
Heather turns from the mirror. “You can go anywhere in the house you’ve already been.”
“The kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“The playroom?”
“If you put my things back where they belong.”
“Your office?”
“You haven’t been there.” She waits.
