Chapter 27

Madden

The old house at what will one day be Peach Acres has been cleared out from when Penn and I first saw it. Worktables are in the middle of the main living space, computers and plans sitting on top, with pinboards set up around the outside.

It's been a month since I first started working with Damien on this, Leaf It to Us signage set up alongside Damien's on the perimeter of the site, and poor Penn has been busier than ever, booking jobs for our new landscaper, Richard, to complete.

In that aspect, it's good that he didn't decide to come and work with Damien, but I really wish he had. Our relationship is going strong, but it's a hard balancing act of spending time with him as a boyfriend and knowing when to step away. I don't want to neglect my Bertha boys, but if I took every other consideration out, Penn and I would be together twenty-four seven.

I love him, I love snuggles with him and spending time with him, and I want him in my life constantly. But I'm also very conscious of making sure I don't smother him. I can be a lot sometimes, and if there's one thing my parents have taught me, it's that no matter how hard I try, I can't help disappointing people.

The only reason my Bertha fam haven't left me yet is because they're all too busy falling apart to pay much attention, and now they're in relationships, stable, healthy relationships, I'm expecting that any day now one of their partners will shatter the glass on the truth.

I like to pretend I'm put together and confident, but really, I'm still figuring myself out.

My button-up shirt itches at my neck as I scroll through the internet. Damien and I discussed the need for uniforms, given what we're planning, and decided that since this was a professional relationship, it made more sense for us to be clothed.

It doesn't make sense to me. It plays into society's image of the naked body being pornographic and inappropriate, but Damien's still new to the lifestyle, and I'm not about to push it on anyone and make them uncomfortable.

I get to be uncomfortable instead. That's nothing new.

"You okay over there?" Damien asks.

I drum my fingers on the table and sit back in my chair. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Lots and lots of things."

He nods, sitting back, too, and looking over the mess surrounding us. "We're getting somewhere though."

"Yeah, I really like what we have planned so far."

The aim is to make this the one place people can go and be themselves. Can wear their skin with pride and not be self-conscious about judgmental opinions and creepy people being inappropriate.

We've already discussed the need for on-site security. We're planning to have a grocer and a convenience store by the entrance to start with. Tennis courts and a pool toward the back. The house will be emptied out and set up for free-use meetings, with offices upstairs for community support and management. There'll be a restaurant and cafe, maybe an outdoor theater, a gym … We've been running away with the ideas and have lists for what's important right now and what we can look at incorporating in the future.

Between rent for the businesses and membership fees, it should be enough to cover the administrative side, but Damien keeps assuring me to leave the finances to him.

So I am, mostly. There isn't a part of me that would know what unlimited funds looks like, but if he has them and he wants to spend them on this, I'm not going to complain.

I tug at my collar again, and Damien laughs. "You look so uncomfortable."

"Yeah … not used to corporate. Or, you know, clothes. But it's fine."

"If it's a problem, we can revisit that conversation."

"No, it's really okay." I inject as much conviction into my voice as I can. "It's taking a bit of adjusting, that's all."

Damien's older than me, and when his handsome face falls serious, it accentuates the distinguished lines around his eyes and mouth. "This is a very tricky situation to navigate. When it comes to business, there are things that are professional and things that aren't. I know what we're planning here will mean those rules are redundant, but …"

I hold up my hands. "We don't need to talk about this. I'm a functioning human who's worn clothes most of his life. This isn't a problem."

"I'm conscious of Penn as well."

That's news to me. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know you haven't explicitly said it, but I get the feeling the two of you are dating, and I don't want him to feel uncomfortable."

My cheeks heat at Damien having guessed, but it's not like I'm surprised. I never shut up about Penn because I don't actually want to. "We are. But that's not something he cares about."

Damien's mouth twitches. "If it was my ex-husband and we were still together, I'd have an issue with it."

"Penn understands it's not sexual. If it was up to me, I'd be naked all the time because there'd be no outside pressure to conform. It would just be okay to be myself. That's my ideal world and what I want for this place. At home, I live with six other men, and I'm always naked. Penn doesn't care."

"It's a relief to know that you've had that conversation."

"Umm …" I run my fingers over the side of the table. "Conversation?"

"Well, have you talked about it? To know he's okay?"

A flare of indignance hits me because what if he does have an issue with it? Am I supposed to change who I am to fit him and his needs? What about mine? Because I know that's what Damien is implying. He doesn't want to have the conversation about being clothing optional at work in case Penn has an issue with him seeing my body.

I take a measured breath and warn my attitude to take a seat. As much as I want to rage that he should love me as I am, I also know that feelings aren't always rational. When you're in a relationship, you consider the other person, but I've never hidden who I am. This isn't a new thing I'm springing on him. "Penn's known me since high school, and while I've only been immersed in the naturist lifestyle in the last few years, he knows who I am. He's tried it, and he understands my reasons for it. He wouldn't hold me back."

"I'm sure your situation is completely different to mine, but I'm going to caution you about assumptions. Your relationship has changed, and you both need to have an open conversation about it where you can express any feelings you both have without judgment."

I'm chewing on my tongue, trying to hold in my question but not able to. "And what if it's a conversation I don't like?"

"Then it's going to come out at one point or another. Better now than down the line when you're married and your lives are tied together." He runs a hand over his face. "Ask me how I know."

We haven't talked about his relationship much, and all I know about Damien is that he's divorced and he's a great guy and an architect. With a lot of money, apparently.

"Not an amicable divorce, then?"

"No. I can't say anyone was totally at fault—there were a lot of bad decisions made by both of us."

"I'm sorry."

He presses his lips tighter, and it feels like when I try to hold something in. "Not always enjoyable when your husband tells you he's polyamorous and wants to see other people."

"Oh." A stunned silence follows his words.

"He tried to make monogamy work, so that's a credit to him, but I would have appreciated knowing he was trying from the start. I know there are plenty of poly people who are perfectly happy with one partner, but he wasn't one of them."

"Shit, that's a lot."

"It is. I tried to be okay with him having other people in his life, but it became clear to me very quickly that I'm not built like that. The jealousy was killing me. The control was killing him. All-around horrible experience."

There it is. The point that relates back to me and Penn. People are who they are, and changing what makes you who you are for another person doesn't work in the long run. Wearing clothes isn't something that I can do anymore. Not permanently. I've done a lot of work on myself to know that the more I cover up, the more I psychologically shut down. I like being naked because it strips me of protection. It's me, in my rawest form. Physically, it feels better, but mentally, it's made so many changes to who I am I don't think I could go back.

Penn said he tried it and it didn't work.

I love that he did that for me, and when we're at home, he'll usually wear his underwear and nothing else. But it's not who he is. He has no desire to take things further, and that's okay. Disappointing, but okay.

What if Penn is too much like Damien, though? What if he's someone who gets jealous? I can't picture it after all these years, but how the fuck would I know without actually talking about it? Fuck, that sounds like a fun conversation to bring up. "Hey, babe, just checking that you're not bothered about other people seeing my cock and aren't going to have a jealous breakdown over it?"

I bury my face in my hands. "I know where you're coming from," I finally say. "And I'll clarify with him, but Penn … he's not like that. He's not."

"Well, I'm glad. I really like you both, and he obviously makes you happy."

That little burst of love hits my chest like it always does when he's brought up. "He really does."

"Okay, why don't we come to a compromise?"

I tilt my head, trying to follow. "A compromise?"

"Yeah … no more stifling work clothes. When you're dressed, what are you comfortable in?"

Literally nothing isn't the answer he's after here. We're compromising, so … "Gym shorts. Loose sweats. Loose tank tops."

"Okay. So wear those."

"Seriously?"

Damien flips through his notebook, where he's been jotting down the business names he's contacted for quotes. "Of course. I'm more comfortable with sticking to being dressed when we're having these meetings and planning the site, but that doesn't mean you have to wear what I do. As long as you're dressed, wear whatever you like."

"Thanks." It's a concession. One that will improve things for me, even if it does still feel like bodies are bad mentality. The frustration itches at me, but it's not Damien's fault. He's trying.

The world is fucking trying, and Seattle is way further ahead than most places.

But it doesn't stop that isolated feeling from creeping over me.

Hopefully, Peach Acres will help with that. To find my community. Where I'm not weird, just me.

All like-minded people I can surround myself with every day because the more we talk about creating jobs for people to run the facility, the more I want one of those jobs to be mine.

I keep stamping that thought back down, though, because Penn and I have our business. Our business that we're getting traction on. The whole reason why he's not stepping up to do this with me and Damien.

I hate that I'm doubting him.

I hate that I don't have complete certainty in him and us and all the things I want from my life in the future.

One small step at a time.

Talk to Penn about where his head is at.

Ignore that deep, empty well of belonging.

I can do this.