Chapter 29

He collapsed next to me, taking care to grab the edges of the condom and tossing it in the direction of the basket beside my bed, though I think he missed. That was the most powerful encounter I’d ever had with a man, and it marked my soul.

He threw an arm over his head, his breathing still labored. “Fuck.”

“You just did,” I replied, “and it was spectacular.”

* * * *

Monday morning, Murphy and I walked on the beach, hand in hand, as we searched for treasures and watched the waves.

We’d showered together, frotted, slept in each other’s arms, and given each other a blow job in the morning. I was in my fifties, so of course I didn’t get it up as often as he did, but Murphy didn’t seem to mind.

Right before we got to the spot where we’d met for the first time, Murphy stopped and picked up a piece of smooth glass. It was bright blue and fit in the palm of his hand.

“It’s pretty,” I said. “Wonder where it came from.”