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Chapter Seven

The scent of fresh flowers floated in through her window, waking Daphne. Spring had really sprung, even in late March. She stretched, hoping not to jostle Simon, who she could feel along her back. The man was guarded, and she knew he still didn't tell her all that he was feeling. But he really did like to cuddle. She woke pretty much every morning with one of his arms slung around her stomach and a hairy leg wedged between hers.

Most mornings, they woke and headed to school, both teaching classes before 9 AM. But it was spring break, and that meant they had nowhere to be. And that meant, she could arch and rub and flex against him. It worked rather quickly. She could feel him growing harder against her butt, his arm tightening around her waist. She tilted her head to the side, feeling his lips ghosting up her neck.

One of his arms snaked under her body, reaching up and cupping her naked breast. They hadn't put on clothes after they'd had sex the night before, so they were ready to go. And despite the fact that his eyes were still closed, Simon's wandering hands betrayed that he was awake. One tweaked her nipple, the other slid over her belly and slipped between her thighs. And his fingers made a few quick, solid swipes across her clit before settling in to push inside her.

His fingers crooked against her walls, his palm settled against her clit with firm pressure. It really, really worked for her. She could feel herself growing wetter, easing the glide of his fingers inside her. So she wanted to return the favor.

She slid her hand down his body behind her, running a hand down his length. His deep groan rumbled against her back, and she tightened her grip. She had no idea how rewarding it could be to make him come, too. She finally actually felt powerful. Like she held his pleasure in her hands—literally.

But he interrupted her touch, dropping his mouth to her shoulder and tugging her leg up to bend her knee over his forearm, opening her to his touch. She'd never felt so exposed, but the way his tongue licked along her skin and his fingers played with her body made her feel just as desired as he always did. It helped her forget that she was in a position she'd never been in before, that he was seeing her in ways no one else had ever seen her. That her body was on display more than it ever had been before.

One particularly firm circle of the heel of his hand over her clit draw a sharp gasp from her lips, and Simon shifted behind her. And then her back was cool as he withdrew his hand and turned over on the bed. She wanted to whimper as the loss of heat and sensation, but she knew he was reaching into his nightstand.

"Shit." He muttered it under his breath, but Daphne knew something was going on. She tried to remember where she was as she shifted to her back to look over at him.

"What's wrong?" The breeze that had brought the scent of fresh flowers had been pleasant at first, but now without the heat of him around her and the sweat dampening her skin, she could feel her nipples tightening in the cold. She tugged he sheet up over her.

"Out of condoms." He ran a hand down his face, clearly trying to calm himself down. "I'll run to the store and get some more. You just…stay there and stay naked."

"Do we really need one?" She found herself asking. It wasn't like she made a habit of having sex without condoms. In fact, she had never done it. At his confused, and for some reason a bit panicked stare, she shrugged. "You got tested back in January before we met. I don't think you've been with anyone since. I know you're worried about who you've been with, but if you were clean then, you'd still be clean now. I was tested in November and haven't been with anyone else since."

Something she couldn't quite place flickered across his face, but he didn't seem relieved. Didn't all men really want to have sex without a condom? She'd heard enough women complain about how hard it was to get them to wear one in the first place. "It will only take a few minutes, Daphne."

"I promise I'm okay with it. You don't need to worry about protecting me." She didn't understand where this was coming from. Unless he really had been with other partners since January. She shoved that thought deep down and refused to let it surface. She believed when he said he'd never felt the things he felt for her with anyone else. And he'd gone so far out of his way to try for her, even when he didn't really know what he was doing.

"It's not happening." He stood, clearly agitated. "I think I'm going to take a shower."

He strode out of the room, never turning back to look at her. She slumped back against the bed, not sure what had just happened.


When Simon got out of the shower, Daphne was gone. She'd left him a note saying she wanted to go into her office to get some organization done. He knew she really wanted space. He felt guilt creeping up his neck. He knew he should tell her the real reason he'd never have sex without a condom, but at this point, it almost felt too late.

And at the same time, he felt angry. She'd pushed, even though he knew she could tell he wasn't comfortable with the situation. And for someone who'd been incredibly okay with him never having kids, it was surprising that she'd push him on his boundaries here.

And yet, he knew if he'd told her everything, she might understand. There was no good answer here. It was easier to continue to tell her that he could not have kids. Letting her believe biology was responsible was a lot easier than admitting that he wasn't actually the perfect façade he displayed to the world.

Before he could obsess any further, his phone rang. And, as if he couldn't do enough to escape the Bridgertons, he saw that it was Anthony. He debated letting it go to voicemail. But ultimately decided he might as well get it over with. He could only solve one problem at a time. And if he had any intention of continuing a relationship with Daphne, he needed to handle Anthony at some point. Simon was honestly surprised Anthony had waited days, let alone weeks, to call him about this.

"Bridgerton." It was all the greeting he could muster. This was not a good day for him when it came to this family.

"Hastings." It was a good indication that Anthony was unhappy when he used Simon's title. He knew Simon hated the high society he'd grown up in and the title that came with it. And that didn't even touch the relationship he had with the fact that it was hereditary, and he'd inherited it from his father upon his death.

"This isn't really a good time." With his predicament about how things were going with Daphne, he didn't want to argue with Anthony. Honestly, he wasn't sure he had the energy for it.

"I don't care. I've been waiting to talk about this for weeks."

"I admire your restraint," Simon responded dryly. He didn't know where this was going. Anthony sounded far less angry than he'd been anticipating.

"What do I need to do to get you to leave Daphne alone?" Of all the things he'd thought Anthony would say, that was not one of them.

"I beg your pardon?" His temper sparked. He knew Anthony was a control freak, but he'd never expected his friend to try and control him.

"I know how you are. You're going to hurt her eventually, it's what you end up doing with every woman you've ever been with. It's not happening to my sister." The fact that Anthony, who had much the same history with women that Simon did, would try to tell him he wasn't good enough nearly made him bark out an ironic laugh.

"It bothers you so much that you can't tell her what to do anymore, doesn't it?" He might be a bit angry with her right now, but something in his gut made him defend her to Anthony. Even if their relationship didn't work out, he wanted to know that he'd left her with something she'd have forever: a functioning relationship with her brother.

"She's not the kind of woman who can handle you. She needs someone stable and understanding, who values the societal expectations that come with his title and is willing to fulfill those expectations for her." Anthony dug in to his position, and it ignited Simon's temper from a spark into a roaring fire inside him.

"You don't have a clue what kind of woman she is or what she can handle. You've spent her entire life trying to make her into the perfect society wife, without asking if that's what she wanted. Just so you're aware, she's a brilliant professor. Even if she never gets married, which she does want to do—in spite of you, not because of you—she'll have a fulfilling life. She doesn't need me or you or another man who will marry her to accomplish that. And if you spent any real time with her talking about something other than marrying her off, you might know that. Why don't you pass that along to the rest of your family as well? All of you keep piling your expectations on her without bothering to wonder if she wants to live up to them."

Simon took a breath, not entirely sure when he'd decided that he was going to rip his best friend a new one. But someone would need to reign him in at some point, and Simon thought he'd get that process started. Daphne deserved better. She probably deserved better than him, as well, but he wasn't ready to make that decision for sure yet.

"She wants kids. She always has." Anthony spoke the words softly but intensely, like he knew that was the trump card.

"You should ask about that. She's assured me she doesn't think that's necessary for her." Simon wouldn't give an inch to Anthony, but he couldn't deny that the thought haunted him. He knew he was broken, but he couldn't show her how much yet. Maybe someday he'd realize he'd have to let her go. It was not that day yet.

He seemed to have temporarily stunned Anthony. Perhaps he hadn't believed Daphne was capable of thinking for herself and making her own choices. And Simon again wondered how he'd gone so long knowing Anthony and not realizing just how much he tried to control his family.

"I'm hanging up now, Bridgerton. But you should talk to Daphne sometime. I think you'll be surprised by what she has to say." And he snapped his phone shut before Anthony could reply. He knew Anthony would be stewing, but he hoped Anthony was stewing and thinking about what he'd say. Simon's relationship with Daphne was suddenly feeling doomed, but that didn't mean he'd give up on trying to do things for her. He had never lied about his feelings for her.


Simon had bought more condoms. And yet, Daphne could tell something was still wrong. She hadn't run yesterday morning because she was mad or upset with him. She'd simply felt that he might want to be alone. He'd seemed upset with her, and she didn't want to give him another reason to be that way. She didn't plan to push him—or even talk to him—about the condom issue again. She still didn't understand it, but she didn't have to press him about it. No matter how ridiculous she found it.

He'd offered to make dinner after they'd spent nearly two whole days apart. She'd agreed, but felt uneasy. The air was tense and strained when she'd arrived at his apartment. He'd issued the invitation, but it seemed he didn't know what to do once she got there. He'd spent nearly thirty minutes tending to the food.

Now they sat in silence as they picked at the food. He'd made spicy pork and vegetables with a peach and apple salsa, paired with a fruity French white wine. It was delicious, and she pretended that was her focus so she didn't have to talk much. "This is amazing, Simon. Thanks for cooking."

"Of course. It's been a while since we had a quiet night in." He sounded polite, almost rehearsed. It certainly didn't sound like the warm and humorous man she'd come to know.

"Certainly." She took a sip of her wine. "Have you been able to get much done with all of the students gone?"

"Yes, it's always a good time to take care of those random little projects that pile up over the semester." He finally glanced over at her as he answered. "It's a bit of a sprint from here to the end of the semester."

"I'd imagine. Only four weeks left until they're all done with our classes. It's a bit hard to grasp for me, really." She thought maybe opening up to him would trigger a more natural flow of conversation. "I don't know how it feels to say goodbye to this group of students I'll likely never see again."

"That's one of the benefits of working in the liberal arts department," he said, taking a small sip of his wine. It was still a bit stiff, but at least he was engaging in the conversation. "You likely will teach some of those students again. Plenty of them were there to take care of a gen ed credit, but the ones who are in the art history program will probably be your students for the next few years."

"That is actually rather comforting." She thought about it. "Do you ever mentor your students when they are in your class for a few semesters in a row?"

"I rarely interact with students outside of class or office hours." And here she thought he'd been doing better this semester about opening up to people.

She nodded silently and returned her attention to her plate. She hadn't been kidding when she'd said it was good. She had just one bite of pork and a carrot left. Daphne quickly took the bite and swallowed it, noticing he was done with his as well.

"Sorry I didn't make anything for dessert." He stood and took her plate with his over to the sink. His apartment had one large room with a kitchen, dining area, and living room, then a short hallway with a single bedroom and bathroom. She knew he didn't make all that much as a professor, but he had plenty of money from his estate back home. She was always a little bit surprised he didn't have a larger apartment in Chapel Hill.

"That's alright. I suppose I should be getting home now, anyway." She stood, smoothing her skirt back into place. She'd hoped this night would have gone better, but clearly there was something going on between them that wouldn't go away simply with time to cool down. And she had a feeling she'd only make it worse if she pushed him to tell her what was wrong.

"You don't have to go." But he remained by the sink.

She shot him a smile that she hoped didn't betray the sudden sadness that had overcome her. "I think we've run out of topic for conversation tonight."

"We don't have to talk." Now he moved closer. It seemed he'd actually decided to try to persuade her to stay.

"Shall we just sit in silence then? Turn on a film we don't care about?" She looked over at the couch, her attention temporarily snagging on the piece of furniture. She'd not realized it would feel so odd, to look at a place where she'd experienced something profound and life changing, where she'd grown so much so recently, and still feel like it was a hundred miles away and years ago.

"No." The closeness of his voice startled her back to the present. She turned and saw that he had moved right in front of her while she'd been reminiscing about their romp on the couch. "I'm sure there are better ways we can use our time."

"Is that so?" Daphne was surprised by his readiness to get more physical. Maybe the sex wasn't the problem. But that didn't explain his refusal to tell her what was bothering him either way.

"Yeah." And then he was done talking, his mouth taking hers sharply. They had never been particularly gentle or delicate when they had sex, but this was the first time he was this intense. It was like he was trying to devour her. His tongue worked its way into her mouth, even as she tried to pace him. But he was not having it.

He tugged her into him, catching her against his chest when she stumbled at the force. He continued to eat at her lips and tongue, tearing a gasp from her when he worked his mouth roughly down the column of her throat. He didn't bother removing her dress or pushing it off her shoulders. He simply lifted her and placed her on the table they'd just had dinner on.

Daphne's head spun as Simon flipped up the skirt of her dress, swiftly dragging her panties down her legs. She could barely catch her breath, and then his mouth was between her legs. And now he was actually devouring her. They hadn't done this much. She liked it, sure, but it was nothing compared to his hard length inside her. And he didn't seem to get as much enjoyment out of it as she did out of getting her mouth on him.

But he was working hard now to make sure she liked it. His tongue raced over her wet flesh, giving her a hint of teeth as he ate at her. She felt her hand reaching down and snaking into his hair. He knew just what it took to get her to explode—she needed it fast and hard. She hated being teased. And he was giving her exactly that now, not leaving her the space to get away from his mouth as he supped at her.

She had no idea what brought this on. He was aggressive, pressing and sucking just where she needed it to go off like a rocket. And go off she did, tightening as her orgasm hit. It had been embarrassingly easy for him to play her body. He'd only been between her legs for a couple of minutes.

She was panting, trying to suck air into her lungs when he stood, wiped a hand over his mouth to clean off his face. She leaned up to kiss him, letting herself be bolder than she usually was as she did. He met her mouth with his own, his tongue snaking back into her mouth. There didn't seem to be any finesse involved in this bout, so she tucked her hands under his belt, bringing him closer so she could get to work on his fly.

Simon wrenched away, putting distance between them quickly. Daphne, still trying to regain her bearings after that whirlwind of an orgasm, sat up, confused. He stood across the room, almost back where he'd started by the kitchen sink. "Simon?"

"I… can't." She was starting to feel exposed, and not in the empowering way she had in bed the other day. She sat up fully, moving her skirt so it covered her thighs and between. She'd have to collect her panties from the floor shortly.

"You can't what?" Clearly it was sex that was bothering him, but what sent him off the other morning and just now didn't seem related to her. She had no idea what was triggering this.

"I can't sleep with you again."

"I'm sorry about the condom. We can use one. I didn't mean anything by it." That was the only thing she could think that she'd done that might have upset him.

"I don't think that's enough."

His words succeeded in cooling her off completely. She stood from the table, crossing her arms in front of her, comforting herself. "What is enough?"

"I don't know. I tried tonight. I wanted it to work." So that was why he'd seemed to determined. The idea that he'd needed to push himself to be with her made her want to vomit. She had no idea how to fix this, to make him comfortable around her. But the thought of losing him from her life made her nauseous as well.

She had nothing to say that could make those words go away, so they sat in silence for a few moments. Daphne gathered her courage and picked up her panties, which had been lying in a garish reminder of what had just happened. "I'll be off, then."

She had hoped he might try to stop her like he had before, even just to talk. But he stood, head hung, hands on his hips. He looked like a man defeated. And she knew she needed to leave before she started crying.

Daphne shoved her panties in her purse and gathered her coat, barely closing his apartment door before the tears began falling down her cheeks.


It was a few days later that Daphne got a call from Anthony. She was exhausted from crying—and the worst kind of crying, too. The kind where she knows she messed things up, but didn't know how she'd done it or how to atone for it. She was exhausted from preparing for the end of spring break. Simon had been right, it was a sprint to the end of the semester. She had all of her materials and lessons planned out.

She didn't think she had the energy to withstand one of Anthony's lectures right now. Especially because she wasn't sure where she stood with Simon. He'd clearly said he couldn't have sex with her (the memory of which still made her cheeks burn), but he hadn't said he wanted to end their relationship entirely. Then again, just because he hadn't said it to her, that didn't mean it wasn't what he wanted to happen.

But she also knew Anthony was dogged enough to continue calling until she answered. He'd likely assume she'd been kidnapped and was in some strange man's basement if she didn't answer. So answer she did, taking a deep steadying breath. She couldn't let slip to him that anything was happening. "Hello, Anthony."

"Daph, you never call me anymore." He might be overbearing, but he was still her older brother. Hearing his voice was like finding a comforting island in the middle of a stormy sea.

"I've been busy, brother." She laid down on her bed, her phone tucked into her ear. "I don't know if you heard, but I have a job now. And it turns out, everything they say about teachers is true. We work many unpaid hours."

"Plus, you have that good-for-nothing boyfriend now. I'm sure he eats up all of your free time." Normally, she'd assume Anthony was goading her into an argument, just so he could prove to her he was right that Simon wasn't good enough for her. But this time, there was something in his voice that sounded almost open to the idea. Like he was trying to make an effort. She appreciated it, but she feared it might be misplaced. He was wrong about her relationship with Simon. She was the one who wasn't good enough for him.

"He's been quite busy, too." She assumed it was the truth. She'd seen a light on in his office the few times she'd gone in the past few days. But she hadn't spoken to him since Tuesday night.

"How are things going?" This was the question she'd been dreading. Because how could she answer it? "The teaching is going well, right?"

That took her by surprise. Anthony never asked her about art or work. "Oh, yeah, mostly. I think I've got the hang of teaching the actual classes. It's been a bit tough figuring out how to make it make sense to them, but I got there. The real struggle is getting the program underway."

"The program?" She'd told her family she was hired as a tenure-track professor, and she assumed, because none of the rest of them were in academia, she hadn't bothered mentioning that she was building a program.

"Yes, part of my job is to create a program track within the art history major. I study the comparisons between different cultures and time periods in art history, so the university wants to create a program focused on that. Kind of like comparative literature as a field of study. I'm one of the only people in the world with a degree in comparative art history, so that's how I got hired, and how I got tenure track. It's very hard to find these days." She stopped, realizing she was sort of rambling. He also probably had no idea what half of what she was saying meant.

"Daph, that's amazing. I had no idea you were doing that." He actually sounded impressed. She wasn't sure she'd ever impressed Anthony in her life. She certainly had made him proud that she had accomplished something, but it was always something that was expected of her. She didn't do anything unexpected. "Simon was right, you're doing so much more than I thought you were."

"You talked to Simon about me?" Her heart raced a little bit. Maybe he already knew what happened. Or maybe he had some idea about what Simon was feeling. She was completely in the dark about that.

"Of course I talked to Simon about you," Anthony scoffed. "I am your older brother and it's my job to protect you."

"I can take care of myself, Anthony," she felt compelled to remind him.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that." He sounded a bit humbled. "It's a hard habit to break. Besides, Bassett is my best friend. I know how he is. I had to make sure he was going to take care of my baby sister."

"Don't worry, he's done nothing wrong." It was mostly true. She was the one who had made a mess of things. But she also couldn't help but think that if he could be honest about what was bothering him, they would be a bit better off right now.

"I don't want to put anything on you. I've been told I do that." Anthony's voice sounded through her phone, wry. "But I know you've always loved kids. You're a romantic, sister, and you always have been. You want the husbands, kids, perfectly adorable house in the suburbs. And you know he won't do that for you."

"You're right, I've always wanted those things." She closed her eyes, knowing that her chances of having any of them were slipping away. "But I think, being with him, that he's enough. I would be okay without having kids if I had him. It's not his fault."

"It might help if the stubborn bastard decided to go to therapy."

Daphne momentarily set aside the irony of Anthony telling someone else they should go to therapy, and listened to what he was saying. "What are you talking about?"

"The man refuses to talk to anyone about his father. If he could get over that, or at least process that, I think he might have a different opinion on kids." Nothing Anthony was saying made any sense.

"You think he might be willing to adopt if he dealt with his father's death?"

There was a pause. "What did he tell you about his father?"

"I assume you know the story." But Anthony still waited, so she recounted the major points of the story Simon had told her. "His father was abusive. Simon was mute for a lot of his childhood because of it. His father thought he was broken because of it, and Simon has been dealing with that ever since. I presume his father had died or was never told when Simon learned he can't have children. I can only imagine how he would have reacted to that."

Her explanation had finished, but Anthony remained silent for another minute more. "That motherfucker."

"I'm sorry?" Daphne sputtered. She was used to Anthony cursing, but she didn't think she'd heard him spit the expletive out so vehemently since Gregory had burned down the gazebo at their summer house when he was four.

"Daphne, listen to me. I'm not trying to ruin your relationship with Simon." He sounded sincere, so she was inclined to listen to his explanation. "But he lied to you. About children. He's not impotent. He promised himself as a kid that because of his father, and his obsession with titles, and perfection, and living up to the family name, and all that shit, that he would never have children."

Daphne's head was spinning. She vaguely heard Anthony continue to speak in the background. "I don't blame him for that promise, and if he dealt with his issues with his father and still felt that way, then it would be a different story. But he hasn't. And I'm not going to let you make a decision about your life based on a lie he told you."

She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of this information. His insistence on condoms made sense now, as did his intense concern when she suggested they forgo one. But why not tell her the truth when they were just fake dating? There was no reason to hide this from her. Unless he was trying to trap her into something she wouldn't have agreed to otherwise.

"Daphne? Are you okay?" Anthony's concerned voice brought her back to the moment.

"Yes." She sat up, knowing now what to do. "I'm going to be fine."

"Believe me, I'll be reaming him for this one as soon as we hang up." She could hear the anger in Anthony's voice. She couldn't say Simon didn't deserve it, but she also did want to handle this on her own.

"No, don't. I'll take care of it." She closed her eyes again. "I need to know that I really can take care of myself."

"My offer stands. I will fly to America and beat him up, if need be."

Daphne couldn't help but smile at that. "That won't be necessary."

"Call me if you need me." He sounded a bit worried that she wouldn't.

"I will call you more often if you promise to reserve judgement about my life." He made a stressed little noise, which made her smile.

"I promise."

And in spite of all of the tumult inside her right now, she smiled. "Love you, Ant. Give everyone my love. I'm off to see a man about his sperm." She tried for humor to focus her chaotic emotions. It must have worked, because Anthony laughed and wished her luck.

And with that, she stood, in her three-day-old sweats, and grabbed her coat to go to Simon.


A banging knock jolted Simon out of the listless staring he'd been doing while theoretically watching his comfort movie (Kenneth Brannaugh's Hamlet, yes, he was boring). He stood and walked to the door, not expecting a Daphne literally radiating rage to stride through as soon as he opened it. "Daphne. What are you doing here?"

"You wanted space, Simon? You got it." There was a mix of emotions on her face, like she was more than just mad at him, but he couldn't decipher it.

"Being at my apartment isn't exactly space." That was certainly not the right thing to say, which he realized when her eyes narrowed and her mouth, which for some fucking reason would still not leave his memory, pursed.

"No, it's not. You didn't specify what space entailed when we last spoke. But that's fine, I'll define it for you now. On a personal level, we are done. You still want women to leave you alone and for Nigel to give you a good assessment. I still want him to leave me be. So we will see each other, at least three days a week, on campus. We will play the part of the happy couple, and then when summer comes, we'll say that a summer apart made us realize we didn't really fit together in the first place."

He wasn't sure where any of this was coming from, but that last sentence made him flinch. He hadn't figured out yet what he wanted to do about their relationship before she'd arrived. She'd not only pressed him about something he didn't want to do, she didn't seem to understand why it bothered him. She'd lost his trust on a sexual level. But he hadn't decided if that meant their relationship was over or not. Every time he thought about it, his body revolted.

"And the next time you want to lie to a woman, make sure her brother isn't someone who knows what the truth is." Her face scrunched, and for the first time, he realized what that mix of emotions was. She was hurt.

But Daphne didn't wait for him to respond, nor would he have expected her to. She was full speed ahead about everything. She was determined to put him in his place, and right now, it felt like she'd succeeded. The slam of the door on her way out didn't even break him out of his funk. He'd thought telling her the truth would be the worst thing he could do.

Now that it was over, he knew he was wrong.