The Girlfriend

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lydia

It was hours before there was any sign of Jon. I laid there in the dark bedroom beside Patrick, hoping that Jon would call or something, anything, just to let me know he was okay. Patrick dozed off but I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until I heard the door downstairs click shut and I bolted upright.

Quietly, I got out of bed, trying not to disturb Pat, and ran as quietly as I could to the stairs. The only light on was in the foyer and I came to a grinding halt at the base of the stairs.

Jon stood in front of me, drenched head to toe and reeking of alcohol. "What did you do?" I whispered, afraid to touch him. "Where did you go?"

"I just drove," he replied thickly. "I think I was in Queens for a while. That's probably where I left the car."

Thank god he didn't drive like this. "How did you get home?"

"Charles gave me a ride. I have no idea why I called him, but I did."

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do next. When he didn't move, I finally made up my mind and closed the distance between us. "Let's get these off you." I pulled at his jacket and let it fall to the floor heavily. "Come on, you need a shower or a bath," I said as I pulled at his shirt.

Jon kicked off his shoes and I took him by the hands, leading him upstairs to the master ensuite. They did this for me all the time, provided the aftercare I needed, and it was about time that I repaid the favour. Jon was quiet but he let me strip him down and run a hot bath with my lavender Epsom salts. Lavender is calming, and it will help him sleep. He wouldn't look at me though; he had his gaze fixed resolutely on the floor and refused to meet my eyes no matter how much I begged him to just look at me once.

His clothing fell to the floor in sopping puddles, I kicked it away and made a mental note to get his jacket off the floor and get all his stuff in the wash before bed. Jon turned and I grabbed his hand, steadying him as he got in the bathtub. He sunk down into the hot water and I sat beside him on the window ledge, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and pouring some into the palm of my hand.

"Do you remember doing this for me at Plaisir?" I asked suddenly. "After Patrick said you could touch me again, and he let me sub drop? You washed my hair and told me you would make him come take care of me." My fingers worked through his hair gently and slowly. "You've done it for me a lot."

I had forgiven Patrick a long time ago, and while it was true that I had moved forward and gotten past it, the experience had changed our relationship irrevocably. He'd earned back my trust bit by bit, he'd changed when I needed him to, and we grew together from it. But Jon had been there, and he'd come and stayed with me after Patrick left, and I think that was the point where I knew I couldn't have one or the other. Patrick was jealous and inexperienced and hurt me both emotionally and physically, and Jon was there to put the pieces back together. I told Patrick that Jon would never love me, and at the time I thought that was true.

Patrick wasn't terrified of me being alone with Jon after that, he learned self-control and things healed between us. Now he didn't have any jealousy towards the older man, and Jon had softened considerably for the three of us to be together. It worked. Whatever the hell we had done right had stuck and we could work together, and I knew in my heart that if Patrick hadn't told Jon about the company that he wouldn't have reacted this way. He would have been excited, I told myself as I washed his hair, he would have stayed.

The three of us played a game where we lied and held things back and hurt each other at every turn, but we only ever came back stronger. No matter the mind games we played or the choices we made, there was nothing to keep us apart.