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“We haven’t really talked about it, Jack,” Phryne wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about bringing this up. The past few weeks since Egypt had been wonderful. It took them a few frantic couplings to get their rhythm in sync, but they were completely in cadence in all things now. They were lounging in her boudoir in her Mayfair townhome, contemplating getting up and exploring London with Jane. Her head was nestled on his shoulder. Her right fingers were laced with his left. “But are you expecting us to be exclusively romantic?”
She felt somewhat cowardly, but relieved, to not be able to see his face at the question. She felt his head tilt as he paused to answer, still toying with the fingers on her right hand.
Finally, he spoke, “As I said in Egypt, I’ve become a bit uncomfortable with the prospect of belonging to someone else,” she sensed he had more to say and let him continue, “I began this journey with no expectations of fidelity. No promises of exclusivity. I just decided it was worth it to me.”
“I am currently not interested in pursuing any other affairs, for the record.” She offered.
“Noted,” he was pleased hear it, “As your partner, it would be nice to know if you do. I’d hope you trust me that much.”
“Jack,” she turned over to face him, “there is not a single person I trust more. Probably not even myself.” She kissed him, lightly at first and then deepening it before pulling away with a knitted brow.
“You wouldn’t care?” she asked confused, “You wouldn’t be hurt? If I took another lover, it wouldn’t bother you?” She felt herself feeling… offended that Jack would just let her be with other men. Where was his jealousy? Wait, she didn’t want him to be jealous, did she? She worried so much about being constrained by a relationship, now that she was being offered one without bounds — by a man who lived a usually restrained life — she was completely perplexed.
He looked at her adoringly for a long moment before he spoke.
“Hugh loves to box.”
“What?” Phryne looked at her lover as if he’d just completely lost his mind. Or perhaps she had? What in the world is he talking about?
“Hugh Collins. My senior constable. Your companion’s new husband.”
“I know who Hugh Collins is Jack, what does his pugilistic indulgence have to do with anything?”
Jack smiled at her, “Hugh loves to box. Sometimes he gets hit. Sometimes he gets hit hard, and it hurts. But he still does it because he loves it.”
“Oh.” Now she was getting it.
“For him, the occasional agony is worth the pain to be a part of something beautiful. Something which he loves,” he leaned forwards to her, catching her lips with his, he kissed her gently and then pulled back, stopping to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose, “I happen to understand where he’s coming from.”