my sweetheart #7: don’t be sorry

August 2088. Jordan Graham is 28, Maria Boone is 26.

previously: Jordan and Colette are not on the same page // Jordan has many admirers, but his mind is elsewhere // Maria kills her own fantasy

warnings: NSFW

The last wedding guests retreated to their cars and hotel rooms, commencing the cleanup shift. Jordan had his hands in warm dishwater when a shapely red figure appeared in the doorway. The dress was unfair. He suspected she chose it on purpose, to highlight the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. To say, Look what you passed on, you stupid boy.

The dress was payback because he said that he would take her on a date and also that he needed to escape this whole life and be alone. Both were true. Both can be true at the same time, he wanted to explain.

“Hey,” Jordan said to her. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you would have gone home with everyone.”

“Well, you see, it’s a rare occasion I have a babysitter for the whole night. Going home feels excruciating.”

Looking like she did and going home alone to an empty childless house? And whose fault was that?

She was more than just mad—disappointed, embarrassed, devastated?

Better to get it out of the way early, he thought. He was used to disappointing people.



“I’m sorry,” Jordan said. “I feel like such a shithead.”

“Don’t be sorry. You confided something very personal with me, and all I could think about was myself.”

“You have a right to. But I am sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you, and it probably sounded bad. I just need a lot of space sometimes. Maybe you didn’t know that about me.”

“But what if I did know it?” She frowned, shaking her head. “Does Colette know?”



“It shouldn’t be a surprise to her. She knows I want to go. I assume she thinks I won’t do it.”

“But you’re going to do it.”

He nodded.

“What about your boys?”

“They don’t know yet, I’ll tell them soon. I don’t want to leave them. I told her I’d have them, I would homeschool them while we travel. She said not a chance in hell. So I don’t know, I guess she’ll decide when I have them. School breaks and weekends or something.”

“Aw, I love that you want to homeschool them. That is actually so sweet.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’d try, I guess. I think it would be fun while they’re little. I wouldn’t attempt to teach them calculus or anything.”

“So, when are you leaving?”

“Um, soon? The climbing retreat is booked for January, but we start training in October. Three weeks. Maybe sooner, if it takes a week to drive out. Probably sooner.”

“That’s so soon. This whole place is gonna suck without you.”



She started to sob with a fervor that shocked him for a few seconds. Then he gathered her into a hug. He wished he had more to offer her than just a hug, but he didn’t know what else to do. She melted in his arms. She clung to him like she could hold him here forever.



“You weren’t going to tell me?”

“I did tell you,” he said. “I told you first. You’re the only one I told. You’re still the only one who knows.”

The idea of actually leaving has played in his mind for so long, and been denied for so long, that it hadn’t struck him until now that he had so many goodbyes here. Difficult ones. Impossible ones. Goodbyes terrible enough that he wondered whether this adventure was even worth it at all. If Maria took the news this badly, how would his boys handle it?

It made him feel terrible and selfish for even considering the idea.



Still crying into his shoulder, softer now, in tiny shuddering inhales, she said, “So, as it turns out, I’m kind of in love with you. If you didn’t know.”

“I kind of figured that,” he said.



“Maria, I’m not the kind of guy your husband was going to be.”

“I don’t want you to be him.”

“But you need more.”

“What I need is for you to tell me you don’t love me,” she said. “And I’ll get over you. And you can go, and I’ll move on.”

“I, um...” Lie, or something? What would anyone else do in this situation? What would set her free, so he could set himself free, too? But the truth was, he didn’t want to lie. Because he does love her—or he could, or he will, like some inevitable thing that he couldn’t stop from happening. “I can’t do that.”



He kissed her, softly at first then without restraint. He kissed her like two years of hesitation had finally breached its barriers. It was a terrible, selfish thing to do, but he couldn’t say he didn’t love her when it was the opposite of the truth. It felt like taking more than he deserved, but he took it. He kissed her gladly.

When he stopped to breathe, she was speechless.

“Oh, Maria, you deserve so much more than my shitty love.”

There was a satisfied smile on her lips, that his shitty love made her feel so flattered. If that was all he could give her, at least it was something.



“Okay.” She nodded, seeming to have come to some compromise in her mind. “Then maybe, sometime, when you’re out there being alone and seeing all there is to see, if you ever get lonely, you could come find me.”

“You would want that? Even if it was a long time?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t want that,” he said. “You could do so much better than a part time boyfriend.”

She shook her head playfully. “Don’t tell me what I should want.”

It pleased him to see this conviction in her. If she said she could handle this, then he would believe her. “Yes, ma’am. Then I will find you.”

They stood face to face, tears replaced by gentle smiles. He held her still at her hips, fingers roaming, exploring politely, overcome with how much he had dreamed of touching her like this. She never would have declined it, but he held himself back. And he was spinning his brain now, trying to find the words to tell her how exceptionally beautiful she was tonight, but feeling too shy to come up with something that didn’t make him sound like a bumbling fool.



“And maybe come home with me tonight?”

“Wow,” he said, a little surprised, a little nervous, even a little shy. But he wasn’t going to say no. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Considering everything?”

“Maybe not, but maybe I want it anyway. If you’re going to say goodbye, then say goodbye like you mean it.”

He chuckled. “I have some work to finish here. But, give me an hour?”

—

There was a lot of work to finish, and he did his best to finish in an hour. Sure, his days were numbered at this job, but it had been a great place to work and he didn’t want to leave them in ruins. Then he grabbed a quick shower in one of the vacant rooms and a pack of condoms from the reception desk shop. He set out for Maria’s place with his head full of possibilities.

Come find me, she said. Could it really be like that? Could he live a life of freedom and adventure and then, with no drama and no guilt, come home to her? And was that fair? Could it last?

She’ll get over him, probably. She’ll meet someone who can be more for her, someone who can be present and consistent and stable. And one of the times he comes back to her, she will have moved on.

And when that happens, he won’t blame her for it.

He knocked on her door, seeing her already smiling through the glass as she answered.

She looked soft and supple, and he couldn’t wait to have his hands on her again.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” she said with a soft giggle. “I thought I scared you off.”

“You’re terrifying,” he said, “but I’m trying to be brave.” He was scared she’d end up hating him as much as Colette did. He was more scared than he would say.

“You’re doing such a good job,” she said, “I have a reward for you.”

“But won’t this make you sad?”

“It might,” she said. “But I’ll be sad if we don’t, too.” She looked at him funny. “Will you be sad?”

“Me?” He felt shy, she saw him too well. Sad, no. Scared, maybe. He felt like she could unravel everything. “I won’t be sad tonight.”

“Another night, then?”

“Push my problems off for another day. Maybe you didn’t know that about me?”

“I knew it,” she said, smiling playfully. She kissed him again and put his hand back on her hips. “It’s okay, I promise it’s okay.”

She took him upstairs to her bedroom, decorated in florals and peach, fit for a princess. But she wanted him here, so he would be. She straddled his lap. He let his hands wander inside her shirt, stopping with a promise of his own. “You won’t be sad tonight, either,” he said.

He rubbed his thumb across her nipple through the silky fabric of her bra, his other hand hovering over the clasps at her back, and she murmured, “Yes.” With that permission, her shirt was gone, then the bra, too, his shirt, and both of their pants. They kissed each other deeper and deeper. They explored each other in ways they’d never allowed themselves before. No more restraints. No more hesitation.  

Stop saying you don’t need this, he thought, because right now, she is filling you with life. Stop saying you don’t need to be loved, because look how your heart is positively glowing with its warmth. Stop claiming it isn’t in you to love back, because you do, and you can, and she has slipped through your cracks and made a home in you.

And both things are true—you want to escape and stay at the same time. You can want both, but you can’t have both. You might even need both, but you can’t have both. And there’s the tragedy.

Oh shit, he thought.

She gazed back at him with sleepy satisfied eyes, still a noticeable puffiness from her crying before. But she looked happy. He had been nervous, but he didn’t disappoint her. “That was intense,” she said. 

“It was,” he agreed. Intense was a gentle way to put it, he was pretty sure they had just rewritten the fabric of time in several dimensions. Nothing would never be the same again. She was everything he’d never had before. She was soft, patient, and forgiving. She was warm and undemanding. And this was a goodbye?

What are you doing? You belong here. This is your home. You won’t find another match like this. 

She loved him, and he could give up everything to stay right here and love her back. It would be so easy. And maybe it would feel different this time, with her. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like a cage. 

He could take it all back. He could quit the climbing classes, give his spot to another wannabe mountaineer. He could relinquish his hiking permits—the mountains would go on millions more years without him. He could change his mind and stay. He was excellent at quitting things. He sucked at follow-through. Why should now be different than any time before?

But then, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

And he laughed, because actually, yes, he was starving. He worked all night and then came straight here.



It was two in the morning. They went downstairs to the kitchen in bare feet, and she whipped up some pancakes from scratch. She might complain about her coworkers and their showy culinary prowess, but this was the kind of cooking Jordan loved. It was simple and satisfying, and that was impressive in his opinion. 

The pancakes were moist and sweet. It felt very poignant. She could have made them pizza rolls or toast, but she didn’t. Like the dress she chose to wear tonight. “Are you trying to change my mind about going out west?” 

She flashed him a sly smile. “Is it working?” But then she sighed, not waiting for him to answer that. “No, that’s no good either. You have to go climb your mountains. You’ll regret it if you don’t, and I’m not going to be the reason you have any regrets. Maybe I’m just making sure you’ll remember me when you’re gone.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. 

“But stay tonight,” she said. “You’re too tired to drive.” 

And she was right. It didn’t take much convincing, because he didn’t have anywhere better to go.

She fell asleep, and she slept deeply. 

He slept, too, for a short time, feeling so much belonging in her bed. He could stay, and in the morning they could start over. They could begin again with real purpose. 

But doesn’t she want exactly what Colette wants—a home, a settled place for her children, roots? 

It wasn’t her fault. She only wanted what most people wanted.

Colette, he thought, he needed to talk to Colette. He had to tell her that he was leaving, too. He’d been pushing that inevitability aside because that task was daunting and unpleasant and likely to implode the universe. He would hate to ruin this night with all that negative energy. But soon—it had to happen soon. There was so little time left. 

Colette wouldn’t notice him gone tonight. He hadn’t visited her bed in many months, and the empty couch downstairs had been keeping his secrets for weeks, too.  

He didn’t think she’d be jealous, exactly, or else she had no right to be. She was the one who used to talk about open relationships. Maybe it was all talk. Maybe she would be mad. But in any case, he didn’t want an open relationship with her, or any relationship at all. 

His answer to their problems wasn’t going to be the one she wanted, and she was going to be furious. She would have an itemized list ready of all the ways he’d let her down. He could hear her voice in his head, Nobody will do what I’ve done for you, the money I’ve put into you, the time, the work. Do you think she’s patient? I’ve been patient with you. I’ve been patient for years! 

He stayed most of the night beside Maria, her hair tickling his nose, his arm around her belly. But the sun began to lighten and he had the day to tackle.

He nuzzled into Maria’s cheek, “I have to duck out.” 

She woke only lightly, worry in her voice. “Is this it? Are you going today?”

“No, not today. I have some things to take care of first. A few days at least. Okay?”

“Promise you’ll tell me when it’s time? Promise you’ll say goodbye.”

“I promise. Go back to sleep, I’ll text you later.”

He kissed her forehead. Oh, sweet Maria. This was going to be such a mistake, wasn’t it? He was right all along all those times he tempered their flirts. He should have listened to his instincts. This would break her, she was not going to be okay with this. He never wanted that for her. He never wanted to see the day that she, too, became disappointed in all the things that he was not. How he hated the idea that her gentle love could turn into that kind of disgust. How he dreaded the possibility that she would ever look at him with the contempt that Colette did. 

Somehow he needed it to never come to that.




Maria woke up again a few hours later to a golden sunrise and an empty bed. She knew she asked for this. Maybe she wished it might have turned out differently, but she got what she asked for and she wasn’t sorry.

—

story notes: thank you to the pose makers for giving me exactly the kind of hugs I needed! Particularly Rebouks, and Wistful Castle. 

These in-game animations can feel so sterile and passionless sometimes, lol! 

Whew, so this one was a bit of a challenge to write. I thought I had it done, but then I rewrote it, and rewrote it again. I wrote a 2000-word braindump on these guys and their motivations, trying to make sure I really understood why they were behaving the way they do. I don’t think I had anything wrong, in all those rewrites, but I did discover some deeper nuances that will make a difference later.

And here, I hope that you can connect why in part three, Jordan wanted so badly to know more about her late husband, that he wasn’t just being a nosy weirdo, lol! And we’re starting to dig deeper into the twisted mess that is his relationship with Colette. And the answer to Maria’s great mystery—does Jordan have feelings for her, too? Well, yes, he really does, for what it’s worth.

More gameplay/story notes here.