I raise my glass and clink with Francesca after we settle into our first-class seats. We're finally off to Barcelona, and Francesca has been giddy all week. I love seeing her like this. She sips her champagne and smiles widely at me. "I can't believe this is my first time on a plane and I'm already in first class- this is brilliant!" she squeaks.
"I want us to have the best time possible," I tell her, taking another sip. She squirms and looks down, a little uncomfortable. "What's wrong, babe?" She's quiet.
Good lord.
"Francesca, talk to me."
She swallows. "It's weird for me. Having you pay for all of this- I feel like... I'm being bought. And it feels like a trick." She looks down at her feet and twists her fingers together.
"A trick? What do you mean?" I ask, taking her hands in mine. I have to take advantage of these rare moments of total honesty from her.
She still won't look at me, "Like, I'll get used to this, then it'll all be taken away and I'll have the rug pulled out from under me." I am about to interject, but she pushes forward, the floodgates opening, "Rose says that I need to just enjoy the moment as it is. She keeps telling me that I need to learn to be grateful for the positive experiences I have instead of being angry they are gone, and I'm trying but it just freaks me out. I don't want to have to build myself back up again," the words tumble out.
I take a minute to process what she's said.
Angry they're gone?
"Babe, do you think I'm tricking you?" I can't hide the hurt in my voice.
Her thumbs gently slide along my knuckles. "I mean... no. When I think about
you
, I don't feel nervous. But when the money gets involved, my life shifts so dramatically. I go from being proud of the carefully curated one I've worked so hard to develop to realizing how sad that life is. And I hate thinking about going back to it. It's easier not to accept any improvement than to worry about losing it."
I take my hands away in frustration, running them through my hair. "Isn't that a concern for any relationship? I really thought we were past this," I say quietly.
"I'm trying," she murmurs. I don't want to look at her. I feel like she's literally planning to leave me- like it's an inevitability.
"I thought you were working on accepting who I am?" I say, completely exasperated.
"I am. I mean, I'm here, aren't I?" she says with a hint of malice in her voice. I glare at her.
"I don't understand- if you are going to eventually leave, like you're implying, why do you keep stringing me along?" I ask her, my tone matching hers.
"There is nothing wrong with keeping my guard up- that doesn't mean I'm going to leave," she says, backing down a little.
"But, it's like you're certain that this will end, so then you might as well leave! What's the point in waiting around for the inevitable?" I snap at her.
Now she looks hurt. "How am I wrong for being afraid to lose the best thing in my life? I have to protect myself because I know what's coming. You've changed my life so much and I've done nothing for you, and you'll realize that sooner than later. Then you'll go on with your perfect life and I'll be left in the ashes of this one!" She's tearing up and turns toward the window, crossing her arms across her chest.
Shit. This is not how I wanted this vacation to start.
She's hurt, and I'm pissed because she keeps ignoring me when I tell her how much she means to me. We're silent for a while- I don't want to give in.
Why do I always have to make her feel better?
We ignore each other as the flight attendants do the safety presentation and the plane taxis. We start to take off and Francesca gasps and grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. Our eyes meet and she's still teary, but there is a new emotion on her face- fear.
Right, she's never flown before.
I squeeze her hand back. "It's alright baby, I'm here," I say instinctively. I pull the armrest up, slide closer and put my arm around her, and she relaxes. I let my feelings flow out of me. "I'm not going anywhere. What do I have to do to show you how much you bring to my life? I was lost before you- I could never go back to where I was," I tell her, kissing her hair.
She looks up at me, "Really?" her voice is quiet and desperate, and it absolutely slays me.
"How could you think you've done nothing for me? You're everything to me. My money has always been something that brings me shame, but now I have something I'm excited to use it for. This is the best I've felt about myself in years, because I can offer you something, bring joy to your life. And not just with the money, you make me feel like I'm worth something, because I can make you smile, or laugh, or relax, or...."
"Or cum?" I'm blabbering, but Francesca cuts me off, teasing me.
She's not wrong
.
I shake my head, and she stops chuckling. "I mean, kind of, yeah. That's where this all started, isn't it?" I smile mischievously at her and she laughs.
"I guess so," she agrees, and I kiss her swiftly. I pull away, but she chases me, and her hands find my hair. She deepens the kiss and I catch her face in my hands, enjoying the feeling of her lips against mine and her exploring tongue. I moan lightly- her smell is overtaking me, and I feel myself getting excited. I don't know how she does this to me- one minute I'm angry, the next I'm comforting her, and now I want her.
"You are so perfect," I murmur against her lips, "How could you be insecure?"
She pecks me again then presses her forehead against me. "You overwhelm me, Reggie- I'm totally out of my element. And my league," she breathes, her eyes flitting up and down over my body.
