We go all the way.
I'm not going to recount all the details because it's blurry and it just happened so I need to let it settle in my head before I tell anyone. Before I even let myself revel in the memory.
After taking a minute to simply breathe, my eyes sleepily falling shut as a result from the alcohol and physical activity, Scott slowly sits up. I glance at him, but it's pretty dark, so I can just see and hear his figure shifting. His naked back is toward me, and his head is bowed.
I wonder what he's doing until I hear him exhale a small, shaky breath.
“Scott?” I whisper, so softly even I can barely hear it. “Are you okay?”
There's no answer for a moment, and that concerns me, so I begin to sit up. His voice stops me.
“Yeah, I'm okay.”
Hesitantly, I lay back down. I would rather stay up and investigate, but the alcohol is like a weight that makes my head sink easily towards the pillow.
But then I hear uneven breaths that sound like crying, and I get even more worried than I already was. I actually feel sick for the selfish reason that he might already regret making the decision to give himself to me tonight.
I force myself up again, fighting against the weight in my brain and the burning I feel in my nether regions, and scoot over to where he is on the edge of the bed. He has a sheet over his lap while his legs dangle off the side of the bed. I wrap a blanket around myself, hiding my exposed parts, and stay behind him but definitely close enough to know he's crying.
“What's wrong?” I ask gently and genuinely.
He shakes his head a little, not looking over at me. Granted, I'm behind him, so it might be awkward, but I miss his face.
“There's just a lot of emotions attached to tonight. I'm sorry, Mitch, it has nothing to do with you. You were great.”
While that makes me smile, I still want to know what his emotions are. I actually do care about how he feels.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head again. “No honey, but thanks for offering.”
I think the cute pet name was just a way to keep me satisfied so I don't keep prying at his emotions.
“I know that what just happened must be difficult for you since you haven't done anything since Christian died,” I say, still speaking softly. “I know this isn't nearly to the extent you're feeling it at, but I haven't had sex in so long, I felt like I was losing my virginity again.”
I release a half-hearted chuckle.
Scott nods, and suddenly I can see the outlines of tears sliding down his cheeks. “That's exactly how it felt for me, too.”
I only kind of understand what he means. He keeps wiping the tears away, not wanting me to see that he’s crying, or maybe he just doesn’t want to be crying in general. It hurts my heart.
He continues to cry silently, then looks up after a minute and fans his face, trying to stop the tears. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I just miss him so much.”
As he says that, his voice cracks, and he covers his mouth trying to hold in the sobs. It’s safe to say that I don’t know what to do, but I’m not going to say that this has never happened before. Like, I’ve had sex with someone and they cried after. It wasn’t because they missed their dead husband, but still, it happened. And it was really uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll tell Scott about it later and we can laugh about how it keeps happening to me.