Sunlight streams through our kitchen window, painting golden rectangles across the countertop as I slide the spatula under the last perfectly cooked egg. Sunday mornings have always been sacred in our house, the one day neither of us rushes off to work, when time stretches like warm honey and we can pretend the outside world doesn't exist.
"Something smells amazing," Sabrina hums, padding into the kitchen in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, her blonde pixie cut adorably mussed from sleep. Or more accurately, from lack of sleep.
"Just eggs and toast," I say, sliding the plate in front of her. "Nothing fancy."
She catches my wrist before I can pull away, tugging me for a kiss that tastes like toothpaste and lingering desire. When she pulls back, her smile is radiant, almost smug. Three rounds of increasingly adventurous sex will do that to a person, I guess.
"Thank you," she murmurs against my lips. "For breakfast. And for last night."
My stomach clenches at the memory, not unpleasantly, but with a complicated twist of emotions I can't quite untangle. After our encounter with Tara at Swirlies, something fundamental shifted between us. The sex was incredible, possibly the best we've ever had, but it wasn't just about physical pleasure. It was about reclaiming territory, about confronting ghosts I've spent years trying to outrun.
"You're welcome," I manage, forcing a smile as I settle into the chair across from her.
Sabrina takes a bite of eggs, her eyes fluttering closed in appreciation. "God, these are perfect. What did I do to deserve a husband who cooks like this?"
"You saved my life," I say simply, the words slipping out before I can filter them.
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth, those piercing blue eyes suddenly focused entirely on me. "Leo..."
"Sorry," I murmur, staring down at my own untouched plate. "That was dramatic."
"No, it wasn't." She reaches across the table, covering my hand with hers. "It's the truth. We saved each other."
I nod, throat tight with emotion I can't express. How do I tell her that I'm terrified of what she's asking me to do? That seeing Tara again ripped open wounds I thought had long since healed?
Sabrina watches me carefully, her thumb tracing circles against my palm. "You're thinking about her, aren't you?"
There's no accusation in her voice, just gentle curiosity tinged with something darker, that same hunger I glimpsed last night. I can't lie to her.
"Yes," I admit. "I'm thinking about... what you asked me to do."
Sabrina's expression shifts, a frown settling over her features as she sets down her fork. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, Leo. I got carried away last night, but I'd hate to force you into something that makes you uncomfortable."
I look at her, at the woman who's given me everything, and feel my chest tighten. "No, I want to make you happy. It's just..." I take a deep breath, knowing this conversation is long overdue. "There's a lot I need to tell you before we go any further with this. Things about Tara and me that you should know."
"Like what?" Sabrina's voice is gentle, but I can see the curiosity burning behind her eyes.
I stare down at my cooling eggs, gathering courage. "Tara tried to save me about a year before you and I met." The words feel like stones in my mouth, heavy with unspoken history. "She wasn't just a client who paid for sex. She... she wanted to help me get clean, wanted to give me a real life with her."
"Then why didn't you let her?" Sabrina asks, her fingers tightening slightly around mine.
I swallow hard, meeting her gaze. "Because at the time, I was too afraid of burdening her with my problems. I was using heavily, spiraling out of control. I convinced myself she deserved better than some junkie she had to fix."
Sabrina's eyes widen slightly, processing this new information. "So you ran."
"Yeah," I admit, shame coloring my voice. "I disappeared completely. Changed my number, moved towns. But she kept looking for me, kept trying to help. That's why I ended up in Lawrence, I was running from her persistence, from the possibility that someone might actually care about me."
"And that's where I found you," Sabrina says softly.
"At my absolute rock bottom. By then, I was so far gone I didn't even recognize what kindness looked like anymore. When you bought me dinner instead of sex, I thought you were playing some kind of game."
I hesitate, the weight of my past suddenly pressing down on me like a physical force.
"The truth is," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "I actually considered staying with Tara back then." The admission feels like ripping off a bandage, quick but painful. "She offered me everything, a home, support, love, when I deserved none of it."
Sabrina's hand goes still on mine, her expression unreadable.
"I'm not telling you this to make you jealous," I rush to add. "I just... I don't want to go through with this plan and have Tara be the one to tell you any of it. You deserve to hear it from me first."
Something shifts in Sabrina's eyes, a darkening, a hunger that transforms her face into something almost predatory. Yet when she speaks, her voice maintains that same measured tone I've come to rely on.
"I think..." she begins carefully, her gaze never leaving mine, "I think that's okay with me."
I stare at her, trying to process her reaction. A disbelieving laugh escapes me as I shake my head.
"Does that make it better for you?" I ask with an incredulous smirk, watching her closely.
She nods, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she looks down at our joined hands.
"Sabrina," I say, my voice softening with affection and exasperation, "my hopeless cuck wife. You're asking your husband, the man who would literally do anything for you, to sleep with someone who genuinely almost saved him from self-destruction."
Her eyes meet mine again, fierce and certain despite her blush. "She didn't save you though, did she?" Sabrina counters, squeezing my hand. "She didn't have whatever I had, the secret sauce that could actually pull you back from the edge."
The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile. "And sure, I'm willing to give her a taste of what's mine now, but I trust you, Leo. Completely."
Something warm and overwhelming floods my chest at her words. I lean across the table, breakfast forgotten, and capture her lips in a deep kiss that tries to communicate everything I can't put into words. My hand cups her cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her skin against my palm.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless. "I love you," I whisper against her lips. "So much it terrifies me sometimes."
"I know, I love you too," she says, her eyes soft with understanding. "That's why this works."
She reaches for her coffee mug, wrapping both hands around it like she's gathering strength.
"It's not just Tara though, Leo," Sabrina says. She stares into her coffee for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "If you're open to it... I want to see you with lots of other people too. Different women. Maybe even regularly."
My stomach drops, a cold weight settling in my gut. The words hit me like a physical blow, echoing with memories I've tried so hard to forget. Strange hotel rooms. Unfamiliar hands. The constant performance of pleasure for strangers who saw me as nothing but a commodity.
"You mean like... what we did with Gabi?" I ask carefully, trying to keep my voice steady.
Sabrina nods. "Yes, but more. Different women. Maybe even some kind of regular arrangements."
I take a deep breath, fighting the instinct to recoil. This is Sabrina asking, not some pimp looking to maximize profits. This is the woman who held me through withdrawal, who never once judged me for my past, who's given me a second chance.
"I know it probably scares you, Leo," she says softly, reaching for my hand again. "If it's too much, we can forget I mentioned it."
I look at her, really look at her, and see the vulnerability beneath her desire. The fear that she's asking too much, pushing too far. And suddenly, I understand that this is as frightening for her as it is for me, just in different ways.
"Of course I'll do it," I hear myself say. "Whatever you want, Sabrina. If this is what makes you happy, then I want to give that to you."
The smile that breaks across her face is radiant, almost blinding in its intensity. She slides from her chair and comes around the table, settling into my lap with fluid grace. Her arms wind around my neck as she presses her forehead to mine.
"I'm so lucky to have you, Leo," she whispers, her breath warm against my lips. "We fit together perfectly, don't we? Like two puzzle pieces designed for each other."
"Exactly. We're a perfect fit," I echo, but the words taste hollow on my tongue despite my smile.
As I hold Sabrina in my arms, feeling her warmth against me, a familiar anxiety slithers through my chest like ice water. My throat tightens as memories flash unbidden, the endless performance, the slow dissolution of self until I couldn't recognize the man in the mirror anymore.
The thought of stepping back into that world, of being passed between women like some prized toy, even with Sabrina orchestrating it, awakens a terror I thought I'd buried years ago. The boundary between then and now suddenly feels paper-thin, a fragile membrane that could tear at any moment.
I truly hope I don't lose myself to her fantasies.