Page 63 of The Key To His Soul
“Mind if I ask about the disease your father has?”
“Alzheimer’s,” she answered. “Diagnosed two years ago.”
“Damn,” I muttered.
“I appreciate your sentiment, but please don’t do that. He’s not dying.”
“My bad.”
“All good. Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you scared of commitment?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why polyamory?”
Having had this conversation with myself in the past, I gave her an honest answer. “I never saw me getting everything I want out of one woman to be satisfied.”
“Hmmm… your wants is one thing, but have you considered everything you need?”
The room went silent as I soaked in her words. It was the first time someone had challenged my outlook on my lifestyle without judging it. Kyiris wasn’t saying poly was wrong; she was merely giving me another perspective.
I opened my mouth to answer her question then realized I didn’t have one.
“You know what’s wild? No one’s ever asked me that before. I always figured needs and wants go hand in hand.”
Key smiled then squinted. “Have you? Or have you just convinced yourself of that because they usually aren’t the same?”
I frowned, feeling like she was trying to trap me into somehow being wrong for my way of thinking.
“Fix your face.” She laughed softly. “Hear me out. I want to be in a relationship, but I need peace. I want a man that’s attractive and makes more money than me, but I need someone who’s emotionally safe. I guess the other question is, which do you value most, your wants or your needs?”
I went silent again because up until now, when it came to relationships, I thought I knew.
“You don’t have to answer that now,” she said. “There’s but so much life fixing I can do after coming down off an orgasm.”
Her laughter lightened the mood at the right time. This shit was getting deep.
“Matter fact,” she sat up straight, “I’m gonna head home before I get too comfortable. Next thing I know, we in here hunching again, and I’m in the kitchen cooking you breakfast in the morning. No, sir, you won’t get me.”
I stood first and helped her to her feet. Although I didn’t mind her staying the night, I wanted it to be her decision. I stepped back into my boxers and pajama pants, while she redressed. Grabbing her purse from the couch, she looked around the living room.
“You got good taste,” she complimented.
“And you taste good,” I said, holding out my hand to walk her to the door.
“That was a good comeback.”
I walked her out to her car and held the door open, while she climbed inside.
“Drive safe.”
“You too,” she replied, and we both laughed. “You’re already home. Boy, what kinda dick you put on me?”
“Maannn, go head.” I closed her door and took a step back as she started the car up. “Let me know when you make it in.”
