He blinks hard and slowly turns his head to look at me, brows to the heavens. “I’m sorry…a what?” He bites back a smile, trying not to laugh. “A sex witch?”
“You know all about sex magic, don’t you?”
More blinking. He moves his gaze back to the road just in time to avoid rear ending the car in front of us as traffic begins to crawl. “Sex magic? Not that I don’t like the sound of that, but baby, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, because other than the Chili Peppers’ album, I don’t even think I’ve heard the term sex magic until right this second, like it popped into my head. “I’m just thinking about sex.”
“Always a good thing.” He pauses. “Wait. With me, I hope.”
I nod uneasily. “You know I don’t have a ton of experience here but…I don’t know…” I press my lips together for a second. “You know what? Nevermind. It’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb. What were you going to say? You can’t use a term like sex witch and not elaborate.”
I take a deep breath. “Don’t you think this connection we have gets stronger during sex? I know that’s normal for people, but sometimes it feels…more intense, more powerful, than it should be. Deeper somehow. In a really profound way.”
He switches lanes and then gives me a thoughtful glance. “I’m with you on that.”
“I mean, you’ve slept with half the country I’m sure.” He lets out a derisive snort. I continue. “And I’m not looking for compliments or anything, but what we have…it’s different, right?”
I watch him carefully, his brows knitting together, hoping we’re on the same page or else I’m going to feel extra ridiculous for bringing this up.
“Perry,” he says eventually, his voice low as his eyes go from the road to me. “It is different. It’s very different. And it’s not just because I know you inside and out, it’s not just because I’m madly in love with you, or that we’re married, or that we’ve been through a lot. There has always been some crazy energy when we have sex…hell, maybe it explains why I freaked out so fucking bad when we first slept together.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “No. That was because you’re an idiot.”
“Was an idiot.” He licks his lips. “You have a way about you, you know that. I’m pretty much powerless when it comes to you. Whatever you want, you shall have.”
He pauses and I feel my cheeks go hot from the compliments.
“But I don’t want to talk too much about sex while I’m driving here,” he goes on. “And especially when we’re about to go see your father and sister.”
“Like that’s stopped us before,” I say under my breath.
“But,” he says, then he clears his throat. “Every time I’m inside you, I feel myself fuse to you a little more. Sounds corny as hell, but it’s almost spiritual. Having sex with you is the closest thing to worship that I know.”
Now my face is on fire.
I avert my eyes from the sincerity in his gaze and look out the window. A flock of birds, hundreds of them, swoops in the sky above like a single entity.
“Does that mean you’re a sex witch?” he continues. “I don’t know what a sex witch is, but I’m pretty sure you have to be conscious of it. Something you’re controlling. No baby, I think we’re both two very weird and fucked up people who are crazy in love with each other. We have a lot of power, a lot of wild energy, and when we’re together, well…I guess that’s where the magic happens.”
I don’t think Dex is being literal, but it feels good to know it’s not all in my head. I don’t even know if a sex witch is a thing, but if I have this crazy connection with Dex, there’s a chance that Max is right. Maybe that’s why I could see him and Dex couldn’t.
Then again, that whole encounter might have been in my head.
Luckily, by the time we roll down the street toward the house, and I spot the vintage beige Mercedes parked outside the Knightly’s house, I know Jacob is home. He’ll have all the answers I need…providing he gives them to me.
We park on the street, Dex taking both of our bags up to the house. Ada’s car is gone, which bugs me a little. I texted her when we left the apartment, and usually she’s at home when we get here.
Once inside the house, my dad greets us.
Drunk.
Well, not drunk but definitely tipsy. Not in a joyous way either. He gives me a tight hug, almost bruising, a splash of wine falling out of his glass and onto the floor, leaving a red puddle that reminds me of blood.
“Shit,” he swears, which is another unlike dad thing to do.
I glance at Dex over my father’s shoulder, like what the hell?
Dex nods. “Let me get that.” He disappears into the kitchen while my father stares at me, frowning.
“Are you okay?” he asks me.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, noting the dark circles under his eyes, how pale and thin his face looks compared to two weeks ago.
“Just glad you’re here,” he says as Dex comes back and quickly wipes away the wine with paper towels. “Thank you, Dex. You don’t have to do that.”
Dex straightens up, giving him a quick smile. “It’s not a problem.”
“Where’s Ada?” I ask my dad as Dex goes back into the kitchen to throw the paper towels away.
“She went to get the food,” he says, a sheepish look coming across his eyes. He adjusts his glasses. “I forgot to defrost the pot roast. Silly me.” He sighs deeply. “Hope you’re okay with pizza.”
“Pizza!” Dex yells from the kitchen. He returns to us with a glass of wine for me. “Fuck yes to pizza.”
My dad shoots him a disgruntled look but for once doesn’t admonish him for swearing. We all raise our glasses in a toast to each other. I’m totally okay with pizza, but forgetting to defrost the pot roast, on my birthday of all days, is very unlike him. Plus, it’s four o’clock, which is pretty early for dinner.
“Pizza is great,” I tell him, giving him an appreciative smile. God, it makes my chest pinch to see him looking so out of it. I’ll have to talk with Ada later and figure out what’s really going on. I’m surprised she never mentioned anything to me.
Dex and I finish the glass of wine with my dad, making small talk, then we go upstairs to my old bedroom to put our bags away.
“He’s not well,” I tell Dex as soon as he closes the door, wringing my hands. “He doesn’t look well. And he’s drunk.”
“He’s just had a bit of wine,” Dex says softly, placing his duffel bag on the window bench.
“But he looks tired and, like, worn out. Why?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Yeah right,” I tell him, folding my arms. “He’ll say he’s fine. He always does. I need to talk to Ada. I just don’t understand why she hasn’t been keeping me updated about him.”
“Maybe because it’s not a big deal? Your dad is still grieving, too. It goes in cycles but it doesn’t just go away.”