The Reason We Had Sex

“I can’t believe we did that,” I say, not just because of the taboo, but because… it just God-damnned actually happened.

“Well, I can,” Genevieve giggles, placing an arm on my chest. She fits her head into the crook between my neck and my head, and I get the feeling that she quite enjoys doing that.

“I just don’t get… how did… why did…”

My face starts to burn with shame, talking about sex now that it’s over. I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s immature, but… I look down at Genevieve, because I can’t even bear to look at Erin.

“You’re seriously going to question it?” Erin says, and I realise I can feel the softness of her breasts pressing into my arm… My instinct is to shift it away, but I let it rest. It feels good.

“She thinks you needed it,” Genevieve says, nodding at Erin.

“You did,” Erin says.

“I needed to… have sex with you?” I ask her, bewildered.

“You needed a reminder that sex can be emotionally fulfilling.”

This goes way over my head. I feel like I’ve missed not just the memo, but an entire book’s worth of context here. I gave her a blank look.

“Sex isn’t just a tool that you deploy for your own ends,” Erin says, pushing on. “You needed a reminder of its beauty, its elegance, its… totality.”

I’m still wrestling with the fact that I fucked her and enjoyed it.

“I never asked you about what you were planning in the long term,” Erin continues, “because it was obvious. You want back what you think is yours. Your money. Your power…”

“My family,” I whisper.

“Our family,” Erin says, pulling on my shoulder so that I’m **** to face her. She emanates a faint trace of afterglow, making her seem radiant to me, her dark eyes shining. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Markus.”

“I told Erin about our conversation in the car,” Genevieve says.

“I heard about it all. Lizze, the way you used her. And then everything that came before her. The fantasies, the perversions, the unfulfilled sexual desire…”

“What do you mean?” I say, even though I know where this is going.

“Genevieve thought it was obvious, and I think it too. You want us. Our family.”

“But I don’t,” I protest. “I don’t want to bang all of you lovely…”

Erin raises an eyebrow at me. I realise what I just said.

“I really don’t,” I swear, half-heartedly.

She waits.

Fuck.

She is right, isn’t she?

“So maybe I would,” I say.

“And that worries me,” Erin says, without skipping a beat. “Not because of the nature of your desires. I fucked you, I don’t give two shits about the ****, I think people should love who they want to. I worry because the others aren’t like me. I have Genevieve, and Ricardo, healthy relationships and a support network. The others… you haven’t met them in a while, but some of them are hurting. And from the way you were heading, based off what we could tell…”

“It was going to cause a lot of pain for people that we care about,” Genevieve says quietly.

I see them both, and I hear their words, but I don’t understand what they’re saying. Not really, not fully…

“Imagine how it felt when Genevieve wanted to kick you out,” Erin says.

I wince slightly. It was shitty, but I’ll get over it. Not that big a deal.

“Imagine something ten times, a hundred times, a hundred orders of magnitude worse than that,” she continues. “Imagine liking a person, falling for them, fucking them, letting yourself even believe that maybe, maybe you’re in love with them, and then imagine, when you’re at your most intimate, most ****, that person ripping it all to shreds and telling you that you were nothing more than a pawn in their game. That you trusted them, and they used that trust to get themself off, and that they abused that trust again to fuck you and your entire family over…

“That’s what’s at stake here.”

I start to comprehend. I had been planning to keep it all for myself…

“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” Genevieve says gently, wrapping an arm around me.

“And that’s why we fucked today,” Erin says, hugging me from the other side. “Because some of us out there still care about you. We see the terrible, awesome things you can do. And we believe you can do better.”

I feel cold inside, but warm from the way they hold me. I feel mixed up, broken, halfway built, unsure of myself… so very confused.

“H… how?” I ask, finding my voice shaky.

“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” Erin says. “But I’ll let you in on a secret that you might find handy.”

“What?” I ask, **** for anything to cling onto.

“You’re not the only whose been screwed in the will. None of the others have been written out of it, like you have, but they’re entitled to much less than they believe. They’ve been left with fractions of a percentage point of Father’s wealth,” Erin says.

“You too?” I ask, scarce believing my ears. I’m not alone! And… and this would explain a lot about Erin’s behavior, it would mean…

“Not me,” Erin laughs. “Father might not like me like he does Holly, but I’ve never disappointed him.”

“Then who?” I ask, **** for an answer.

“Even I managed to guess it when Erin told me,” Genevieve says, prodding me. “Come on. Who hasn’t lived up to Father’s expectations?”

“Scarlet,” I answer instinctively. “He never wanted an activist.”

“That’s one,” Erin nods, holding up a finger. “There are three others.”

Three others! Never would I have imagined, four others, practically written out of the will. Four more points of leverage. But maybe this what they’ve been trying to warn me about? I shake my head. Just figure out who the remaining three are. Worry about the other parts later.

Then, I frown. There are no other obvious choices, except… “Holly?”

“You really think that Father would betray his favourite?” Erin asks.

“No, then Tiffany,” I say, quickly amending my guess.

“That’s one of them!” Genevieve pipes up, and Erin nods, holding up another finger. Two to go.

Who even left is there to consider? Kara’s literally the CEO of the company Father built, Maddie’s a senator, Jessica’s a damn good doctor and Claire a damn good lawyer, Amanda was my replacement for Heaven’s sakes, running the family office, and… that’s all of them.

“I can’t imagine Father writing any of them out of the will,” I confess. “They’ve all done well.”

Erin shakes her head.

“You’re still thinking in accomplishments, when Father thinks about justice. It’s Claire, and it’s Jessica,” Erin says, ticking the last two off on her fingers. “They’ve done well for themselves, yes, but never reached the heights that Father wanted from them. They’ve disappointed him.”

“Fallen short of his standards,” I say, and Erin nods.

“But then why would he keep it a secret from them?” I ask. “Wouldn’t it… at least incentivise them to improve, do better, if they knew?”

“You really don’t understand him, do you?” Erin says, and she sounds sad as she does. “He doesn’t think they deserve it. They’ve failed to live up to his expectations, so they failed him, so they deserve it. That is Father’s justice. You get what you deserve.”

And so what does that imply about me? The black sheep of the family. The only one kicked out. The only one that Father condemned to a total, final exile…

I stare at the white sheets I’m currently flopped over. I realise my fists have tightened into balls around the fabric, scrunching it up, and that’s when it really hits me, what Erin and Genevieve have been saying this whole time, the ugly, ugly truth that I’ve refused to see for so many damn years.

I let out a haggard sigh, breath released in an unsteady burst. Pitch fucking black swirls inside me, and I just want to be done with it, but I don’t know how.

I feel like crying.

Erin holds me, and so does Genevieve.

I resolve to do better.

For me, for them, for my family.