Chapter 4

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Chapter 4: Confession

I woke up about 20 minutes later, a fact I ascertained after stealing a glance at the bedside alarm clock. Wrapped up in the comforting circle of H.'s strong arms, I was reluctant to move or do anything that might disturb us, but I also knew staying together for the rest of the afternoon wasn't an option. It would raise too many questions with not enough satisfactory explanations. I resolved to wake H. up and let him decide how much time we had left together, but not before I took a precious few minutes to lie there soaking up his warmth, the feel of his skin against mine, the sight of his handsome, maturing face. I smiled as I remembered how much H. always resented looking more youthful than the rest of us, despite being only slightly younger chronologically. Where most of us were concerned with looking older, I was sure he was glad to finally be aging properly. It never mattered to me, but he did look especially handsome right then, his face relaxed and peaceful.

I woke him by tracing the scar on his forehead with my finger, pushing away the dark fringe so I could see the faint imperfection that he hated and I loved so much. He stirred and grumbled, then his lips curled into a smile and his arm tightened around me. He blinked his eyes open and looked deeply into mine as he sighed, "Ced!"

I kept my finger over the scar even as he pulled me closer and kissed me slowly and deeply. "It's not a dream. You're really here," he said in a mixture of awe and disbelief. "I missed you so fucking much!"

I moved my finger down over his lips to silence him, afraid of what he might say next. I didn't want to talk. Selfishly, I just wanted to enjoy the little time we had left together without thinking about the reality of our situation outside the walls of the hotel suite. It wasn't to be, though, and I should have known better. In moments he lifted his wrist to check the time and I watched worry flood his eyes.

"I need to go, Ced," he said, his voice filled with regret. I nodded my agreement. I needed to go as well. We dressed in silence. It was a deliberate choice on my part, not wanting to let words in to spoil the perfection of what had just happened. I imagined his thoughts followed a similar pattern.

When he was dressed he picked up the condom off the floor and flushed it in the en-suite bathroom. I heard the water running as he washed his hands before he came into the room again. He stared at me, opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and closed it again. He strode towards me purposefully and pulled me roughly into his arms, kissing me forcefully, desperately, leaving me breathless.

"We have to go," he finally said when we stopped, still standing close together with his head resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I replied.

"You first," he offered, stepping back. I nodded, picked up my briefcase reluctantly walked to the door, H. following. I reached for the door handle, wishing so badly I didn't have to open it and let the outside world into our private sanctuary, but knowing that fantasy could not be. With one final look at him over my shoulder, I pulled the door open and stepped out into the corridor, hearing it close behind me. With a deep sigh, I headed for the staircase that would lead me down to the lobby and back out into the throng of Friday afternoon pedestrian traffic. I couldn't let myself think about the future, so I concentrated hard on what took place a half hour before, the memories so vivid they very nearly made me rock hard all over again. My recollection of the sheer pleasure I'd experienced was enough to chase away all negative thoughts.

I was still euphoric when I got on the tube. H. had held me and kissed me and made love to me, and it was just as good as it had always been. No one else knew my body as well as he did. No one could bring me to the edge over and over and keep me there until I was nearly mad with want and need, and then grant us release with his perfectly aimed thrusts. For all the time that had passed and all the shit between us, this felt like we had never parted, like we had just been together. It felt so bloody good and so right.

But it wasn't right. It had been so very, very wrong. I began to realize that as the train reached Gloucester Road and I stepped off onto the platform, propelled by the rest of the crowd up to street level and out of the station. I stared at the pavement as I walked to my flat. No, not my flat. Our flat. The flat I shared with Jasper, a man I professed to love. A man I did love, who loved me. A man who was willing to move halfway around the world to be with me. A man who I just cheated on with a married ex-lover.

He didn't know that, though, and he would never have to know. I knew he wouldn't be home for a while yet. I had time to shower and change, erase all traces of my indiscretion and just forget all about it and H. Go on as if nothing ever happened. It was just a one-off thing. H. was married. It could never happen again. Why should I let one instance of a bit on the side ruin everything I had going with Jasper. H. would never tell anyone so if I just kept my mouth shut no one would be the wiser and Jasper and I could stay as happy as we'd ever been. Happier. I would make this up to him somehow. I could take him out to a fabulous dinner, followed by a night at the theatre, or we could finally go to Hampton Court this weekend, like he'd been wanting to for weeks, or I could book Eurostar tickets and we could take a long weekend to Brussels to feast on escargot and mussels and chocolate, and then take a day-trip to Bruges. Jasper would love that, I knew. I could kiss him on one of the city's many bridges as canal boats filled with tourists passed below and tell him how much I loved him and watch him throw his head back, laughing, before his eyes would return to mine and he'd tell me he loved me too, so much. I could clearly see his windblown hair, his flushed skin, his bright blue eyes, his soft, pink lips, all mine. I could keep all that. All I had to do was forget this afternoon, forget the call that made me leave the office and go to the hotel, forget what I did once I got there. All I had to do was forget.

When I got home I tried to do just that. I took off my shirt, trousers, underpants and socks and shoved them down to the bottom of the laundry pile. I took a scalding shower, hoping the heat could burn off all traces of H. from my body and mind. I put on a shirt Jasper particularly liked and jeans we'd bought on a recent H&M shopping excursion that nicely showed off my package, at least according to him. I wanted to look my best for him - only for him. I wanted to remind him and me that he was the most important man in my life, the only one who mattered.

But as I sat in the living room waiting for him to get home, I faced the fact that I was a liar. I was lying to myself when I tried to convince myself that I no longer cared about H., and I would be lying to Jasper if I didn't tell him exactly what I did. I knew I couldn't keep up the lies forever. I might manage for a while - a month, maybe longer - but sooner or later the guilt would get to me and I would own up, and it would be so much worse down the road. I knew exactly how I would feel if I found out he'd been with someone else whilst we were together and withheld it from me, and I knew I couldn't ever do that to him. I'd been stupid and reckless. I'd made a decision that could potentially destroy my happiness. But I was a grown man and I had to accept the consequences, even if the ultimate consequence was losing the golden American boy who'd made me so happy these last few months.

In the utter hopelessness of the situation I burst into tears and could not stop. Curling up on the sofa, I wept for the utter fool and masochist that I turned out to be. I heard my phone ringing and, even knowing that my failure to answer would cause Jasper to worry, I couldn't lift myself off the sofa to get the phone. That's how Jasper found me when he came in from work, and his concern and tenderness as he cradled me in his arms and gently tried to quiet and comfort me only made it worse. I was in a full blown hysterics attack, clutching at him, desperately trying to hang on to a man I knew I didn't deserve. He kept asking me what was wrong, but I just shook my head and couldn't bring myself to speak the words.

Eventually, I calmed. I allowed myself a few dry sobs, but then quieted down. Jasper continued to hold me, smoothing my hair and rocking me gently. I knew when it came to it he wouldn't push me for an explanation, but how could I possibly leave him without one? There was no avoiding it now. I could lay there and think of some story, another lie, but that would just remove another piece from the foundation level of the house of cards that was my life. I didn't want to live like that, on the edge, waiting for that light breeze that would topple the whole thing over.

"Rick, you're really scaring me. What's wrong? Talk to me, please," he sounded so worried and helpless. I whimpered, still unable to speak, not knowing how to string together the words that were about to plunge a dagger into both of our hearts.

"If you don't want to tell me what happened, is there someone else you'll talk to? Let me call Greg," he suggested desperately and began reaching for his mobile.

"No," I rasped out, my throat suddenly as dry as a desert. "Don't. I'll . . . I'll tell you," I could barely get the words past the lump of fear and remorse that clogged my throat. I grabbed his arms to pull myself up to a sitting position, and kept my hold on them as I turned to face him.

"Jasper, I love you. You need to know that. I love you so much!"

"I know, Rick. I love you too. But you're not this distraught over our feelings for each other. What's going on? What happened? Please, it's killing me to see you like this."

I looked down to the floor. I could not look him in the eye as I confessed.

"I did something today, and I'm so sorry. I didn't plan it. I never thought . . . It doesn't change anything, Jasper. It doesn't change how much I love you and want to be with you."

I felt his body stiffen beneath my hands. Even though I was babbling and hadn't told him anything yet, I knew he understood.

"What did you do?" he asked quietly, wariness creeping into his tone.

"I...," I choked up and stopped, then took another deep breath. "I... I was with..."

"Who?" The question was so quiet it was almost a breath. I looked back up at him, frightened by his calm. His face was drained of color and even his eyes seemed to have paled. He stared at me, his face and eyes so cold.

"I'm so sorry, Jasper. It was a mistake. I don't know what . . ."

"Who?!" he nearly shouted. His face, transformed with anger, terrified me. I had seen him happy and sad, joyful and serious, but I'd never seen the fury that filled his eyes at that moment.

"It was H.," I replied tearfully. "I was with H."

Jasper tore out of my grasp and rose so quickly, I lost my balance and fell face forward onto the sofa. I put my hands out and pushed myself into a sitting position, looking back up at him. He had turned away, so all I could see was his back. I choked out a sob, then stopped. His ramrod stance was so rigid, so impenetrable. I instinctively knew that crying would not get me any sympathy.

"I thought you weren't on speaking terms. You said you hadn't talked in a year," his tone was once again detached and ice cold.

"We hadn't. I hadn't seen him since his wedding, until we ran into him and Ginny that night at the theatre. I certainly hadn't talked to him. I had no intention of talking to him. I was shocked when he called."

"He called? Why?" though his voice was still cold, it held a hint of interest. I didn't know if this was a good sign, but at least it was some emotion.

"He said he'd missed me. He said he hadn't even realized how much until he saw me the other day, and since then he couldn't stop thinking about me and the way we'd been. He told me he felt horrible about how he handled things before the wedding and how he treated me at the wedding, but that he had been scared that if he talked to me he'd back out, and he couldn't let that happen. He said he wanted to get together, just to talk, to apologize . . ." I paused. It had seemed like such an innocent, if unexpected, phone call, and his request was impossible to refuse. With as much as had passed between us, and as happy as I was with Jasper, it would have been petty to deny H. the opportunity to express his regret. I never considered that H. would want more, so I never prepared a response for what eventually happened. I so fervently wished now that I had taken some time to think, that I hadn't agreed to meet him then and there. If only I had taken some time, maybe everything would have turned out differently? But then, when it came to H., I'd never been able to act coolly and logically. In the past, when my failure to plan caused pain, I was the only one hurting. This was the first time I'd done something that would, had, hurt someone else.

The silence in the flat was broken only by the sounds of breathing. I looked back to Jasper to see that he hadn't moved or changed his posture. I realized that it had been a number of minutes since I stopped talking, yet he hadn't moved, hadn't said a word. I wondered how long he would let this continue if I said nothing? Somehow I knew it wasn't worth finding out. I knew that if I said nothing, eventually he would move, but it would be to leave. I might have been able to keep him with me by remaining silent, but only if I had never said anything in the first place. That was no longer a viable strategy. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and spoke again.

"I tried to put him off until next week, but he insisted that we meet right away, said he couldn't wait to talk to me, that everything weighed too heavily on him and he wouldn't be able to bear the burden for the whole weekend. I thought it would just be a drink and conversation, so I agreed. He asked to meet in the Coburg bar in the Connaught. I thought it was an odd place to meet, and even said so, but he explained that he was less likely to run into anyone he knew in a hotel bar. That made sense. He was always terrified of anyone finding out he was gay."

Jasper still hadn't moved or said anything. If not for the slight movement of his back as he breathed, he could easily have been a statue. There was nothing for me to do but continue.

"I was on my way to the hotel when he called my mobile. He said he caught a glimpse of someone he knew at the bar and we could not meet there. He said he checked into a room and asked that I meet him up there. I wasn't thinking, Jasper. I honestly did not think we would do anything beyond talking and having a drink. I don't know if he did either."

I saw and heard his snort of disbelief. I waited for a while, hoping for more of a reaction, but none was forthcoming. I was now reaching the hardest part of the story and I shivered with apprehension. With Jasper's history, I wasn't worried about my physical safety. I wasn't even afraid of being berated verbally, though I could imagine how painful that would be. It wasn't anything I didn't deserve, though, so if that was to be the consequence, I resolved to take it like a man. But what I feared the most was his silence. The same silence I was experiencing now. The horrible, paralyzing silence that told me I wasn't even worth a wasted breath.

"When I got to the room he'd already made use of the bar in the suite and had a few drinks. At first it was as I expected. We talked. Or, rather, he talked and I listened. He was so depressed, Jasper. So upset," I saw his hands curl up into fists and I knew I'd said the exact wrong thing. He didn't care about H.'s state of mind, and why should he? H. had been nothing to him until today, until I turned him into the other man. I knew I had to keep talking and get out the whole story, but I focused on being more sensitive as I did it.

"He said he hated his marriage, that he was miserable with Ginny, especially once she got pregnant. He said so many things. . . I told him that I wasn't the right confidant for him and I tried to leave, but he grabbed me and kissed me and ran his hands over me, and it was like someone else took over my body and I wasn't in control anymore. It was like I was in a trance. He was so familiar and everything he did to me felt so...” I stopped myself before the treacherous word 'right' escaped my lips.

"I came home afterwards and I thought about keeping quiet. I didn't have to tell you anything. But I love you and I can't do that to you, to us. It was a mistake, Jasper. The biggest mistake of my life. I would do anything to take it back, but I can't. I can only beg your forgiveness. I love you so much. I hate myself for what I did. I will do anything, anything you say, to make this right," I slid from the sofa to my knees and moved until I was next to him, reaching for his hand, pressing the balled up fist against my cheek and then to my lips. "Please, Jasper, please forgive me. I love you. I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to make this up to you. Just tell me what can I do?"

"Haven't you done enough?" his words were harsh, like sharp blades. "How can you even say you love me? It's meaningless. One call and you go running to him. One kiss and you lose control of your body to the point you can't say no? Do I look like a fool? Or is it that you're just such a whore that all it takes is a single touch and your response is automatic? Are you some fucking sex robot? It doesn't matter who flips the switch, once you're on you just do what you're programmed to do? You think I'd want to be with someone like that?" his voice was derisive as he pulled his fist away from me and stepped out of my reach.

"Jasper!" I crumpled on the floor, fresh tears flooding my eyes. "I've never done anything like this before, I swear. It was a mistake, a huge mistake. But I told you about it immediately. Doesn't that count for something?" I sobbed.

"Is that what you think? That being honest about it afterwards somehow cancels out the cheating?" He turned around to glower at me as he fired off his rhetorical questions. "It doesn't work like that. You fuckin' lying, deceitful bastard! You convinced me to move in with you. You told me you loved me. You asked me to move to England for you, for Christ's sake! Why? How could you lead me on like that? I thought we had something good, something special. I wanted to spend a lifetime with you. And all you wanted was a bed warmer to keep you entertained until H. came around again. You Goddamn asshole! I don't deserve this. And you, you don't deserve me."

"No, Jasper, it wasn't like that. I swear, it wasn't. I love you and I wanted all those things with you as well. I still want all those things with you," I rose to my knees and shuffled forward towards him, pressing my cheek against his thigh as I wrapped my arms around his legs. After a full day at work his scent was strong and wafted right through his trousers. My treasonous cock, once again having no regard for time, place and decorum, began to harden as I breathed in the powerful reminder of what I stood to lose as a result of my dalliance with H. "Please, Jasper. Please believe me," I said quietly against the fabric of his trousers. "It was just a dreadful failure of judgment. I fucked up. You're right. I am a bastard and an arsehole. I don't blame you for thinking any of those things. But please, give me another chance to show you how much I love you and how much I regret what I did."

"I can see how much you regret it," he acknowledged. His voice was softer now, calmer. I even thought I heard a hint of compassion. "But you can't possibly think this is something you just confess and I forgive and then we go on as if it never happened. I've always been the one who forgave things other people did to me in the past. It never made a difference. It was only a license for them to do things to hurt me again. We have a saying in the States. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' I don't want to be a fool anymore, Rick. And this isn't just you saying something you regret in the middle of a fight or somesuch. This is you deliberately meeting an ex-lover and falling into bed with him within minutes of being together. If you love me as much as you claim, how could you do that?

"I worked too hard and too long to stop being a perpetual doormat to be able just to forgive and forget something like this. I'm sorry too, because I really thought you could have been the man I would grow old with. But now, I . . ." his voice broke and he paused a moment before regrouping. "I need to go."

He tried to take a step back, but I tightened my arms around his legs and pressed myself harder against him, making it impossible for him to move.

"Rick," his voice was at once regretful and exasperated. "Surely you don't mean to bodily restrain me? Sooner or later you're going to have to let go."

"If you really meant to leave, I will not stop you," I assured him. Although he didn't sound fearful and I was pretty sure he knew I would never actually use physical force, his words were a reminder of the problems he'd faced in his past relationships, and I never wanted to be lumped in that company. "I can't explain what happened in any rational terms and I know how it looks, but I also know that I love you. You have to believe me. I love being with you, I love the way you make me feel, I love the way we fit together. I realize I betrayed your trust and I know I can't just apologize that away. But I will wait as long as it takes and do whatever it takes to regain your trust and make you believe in me again. Give me a second chance and name your terms. You call the shots. I will do anything. Just please don't leave me, Jasper," I almost whispered as I looked up at him tearfully.

I held my breath as I watched him consider my pleas. I had never done this before. I'd never done anything to anyone to warrant begging their forgiveness. I could tell by looking at his face that he was surprised at the intensity of my request, and I was surprised as well. I never would have believed myself capable of being this contrite, of making myself so vulnerable and flinging myself literally on my knees at someone else's feet in an effort to apologize and regain their approval. Then again, I also never would believe myself capable of this kind of betrayal. Faced with losing the man who had made me so happy in the past few months, there was little I wouldn't do to keep him at my side. I had no room for pride or self-respect. I'd given up my right to those feelings when I accepted H.'s demand to meet him and then succumbed to the temptation to make love with him one last time.

Because I was studying him so carefully, I saw the instant there was a change in his expression. It started with his eyes, which warmed up and softened somehow. The muscles of his face followed and relaxed, the hard set of his jaw was gone, and suddenly he no longer looked so distant and guarded. He moved his hands to my head and ran his fingers through my hair, then over my face, trying to wipe away the tears that were still flowing and spilling, even as I felt the first glimmer of hope.

"Rick," he whispered in a sigh. He closed his eyes and shook his head, then looked down at me again. "Come on, get up," he urged, bending and moving his hands to my upper arms to pull me up. "Let's sit."

I rose to my feet and together we walked back to the sofa. We sat down side by side, our thighs touching. I didn't know what to do. I needed him so badly: his touch, his embrace, his kiss. But I had no right to demand or even ask for anything. I had to wait for him, and accept whatever scraps of affection he was willing to bestow on me, if any. I almost regretted moving here. At least when I knelt before him he had been soothing me with his hands. Now I felt bereft again, especially as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on this thighs and his forehead on this clasped hands. I could no longer see his eyes or much of his face, and I had no idea what he was thinking. Imagining the worst, I began to cry again, first softly then, as my fear grew with each passing second, harder, until my chest was heaving again with choking sobs. It was probably the movement more than anything else that brought Jasper back from his deep thoughts.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, turning towards me. His arms reached for me automatically. Of course I offered no resistance as he pulled me forward, falling against him eagerly and gratefully. Even as I leaned into his chest, seeking his warmth and comfort, I wondered when had our roles reversed, when did I become the weaker one and he the pillar of strength. I knew it shouldn't be like this. After what I'd done, I should have been the one comforting him, not the other way around. And yet there we were and I, despite having caused all the problems between us, was the one being helped by him. "Shh, Rick, come on," his voice was calming, as were the strokes of his hand over my back. The whole thing was reminiscent of how this whole evening began, when he'd walked into the flat to find me devastated on the sofa.

"I'm sorry, Jasper," I managed to choke out through the tears. "I'm sorry for everything."

"I know, Rick. I know that. But crying isn't gonna change or solve anything. You have to calm down. We have to talk."

I nodded against his chest and willed myself to slow down my breathing. Although he didn't say any more, he didn't let go of me either, and being in his arms was enough. It took a few minutes, but eventually the sobs and tears ended. Only then did he release me, leaning back to look into my eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked, eyeing me carefully.

"No," I answered honestly, shaking my head for emphasis. "But I'm done with the crying. At least," I modified, "I think I am. I know we have to talk. Just say whatever you need to say and ignore me if I start again. Just keep talking. I promise I'll be listening."

"All right," he said with another sigh. "I'm not even sure where to start."

"Start wherever makes sense for you. It doesn't matter. I want to know what you're thinking," I encouraged him. I needed to know what was going on inside his head. As long as he kept talking to me, he was still here and there was hope.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, I guess it goes back to that New Year's Eve you came out to New York. We made a resolution back then, remember? And we both ended up breaking it. And we both suffered for it, a lot. I guess I thought that we both learned from those mistakes. I have done everything I could to put Edward Cullen behind me. He came back to see me too, in Rochester, about six months after I left. He was all apologies and promises and it was the hardest thing I ever had to do to send him away. I was so tempted, Rick. I almost agreed. But then I remembered how much he had always manipulated me and I knew I could not allow that to happen again. So I said no. Even though it hurt like hell, even though for three days afterwards I couldn't even eat or get out of bed and my best friend had to watch over me to make sure I didn't completely wither away, I still said no. I couldn't just let him waltz back into my life and set the terms and watch as everything I'd built without him fell apart.

"When you and I started talking about H., I heard the same pain in you, and I really thought I heard the same resolve as well. I thought those similar experiences, those similar victories over guys who had always ruled our lives, gave us something in common, a bond others simply couldn't understand or share. I thought it would make us stronger. But I didn't consider that your resolve hadn't really been tested. I don't know why I didn't pay attention to that. Maybe I didn't want to think about it because everything else with you had seemed so right? But now, here we are. You've been put to the test and you've failed. And I don't know what to do with that. How to wrap my head around it? How to forgive it? Before today, if you'd asked me what would happen if Edward showed up on this doorstep and begged me to take him back, I would have told you in no uncertain terms that I would send him away. That I would choose you. That you were my future. But now?" he shook his head. "I don't know what I want anymore. You introduced doubt into this relationship and I don't know if it can ever be removed. If you're not strong enough to resist H., even after he behaved so wretchedly to you, got married and even went as far as impregnating his wife. If all that and having me in your life wasn't enough to make you be able to resist him, then how can I be sure I wouldn't do the same thing?"

I grasped his hand, because it was killing me that I'd made him doubt himself. Of all the possible damages caused by my lapse in judgment, this was one I never considered, and this one was hard.

"Jasper, what I did today, it's me, it's my weakness. It's like you said, you'd already been tested and you made it. You made it without me or someone like me in your life. You were able to resist even when you were alone. This doesn't change anything for you. It's all me. I was weak and stupid and unable to resist. I fucked up."

He looked down at his hands. "And that's the other side of the coin. You did fail that test. I wasn't enough to make you resist him. And if I forgive you this time, if I decide to give you a second chance and we continue this relationship, and I move here, and I build my life with you, what will happen if the next time he calls you do the same thing? I don't know if I can face that. I mean," he turned his head and looked me square in the eyes. "Can you guarantee me right now that if he ever calls you again, if he ever says he needs you again, that you will tell him no and turn him away? Can you swear that?"

I stared at him, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. I should have anticipated this most reasonable and basic question, yet I had no ready answer. I should have said yes; most emphatically, definitely yes; I would never, ever go to H. again; never place our relationship at risk like that again. But the part of me that caused me to tell him about this in the first place, the stupid honest part, stopped me from speaking.