The Affair: Cristiana’s Full Story

by Jaimes, Aidèe

  “Didn’t he give you a return date?” I feel crazed at the very thought of waiting another minute to see him, and for all I knew it would be months! What if while he’s in another country, thinking I’m lost to him, he finds someone else? What if he makes true on his promise not to let a possible love interest pass him by while he waited for a decision from me? Oh my god!

  “Let me call him.” She holds the phone to her ear. “Nothing.”

  I groan in frustration. “This isn’t happening,” I say more to myself than her. “How does someone just up and leave like that!”

  “Well, he’s been planning this for a while,” she tells me as if though I should know this. People plan trips all the time. Bo has as much right to vacation as anyone else.

  Of course, I wished he’d have told me. But really, why would he have? Especially after I specifically told him to leave me alone! In my head, I’m screaming as hard as I can, though for Mrs. Jensen’s sake, I try very hard to reign in my reaction.

  “Hold on, he sent it to me here,” she pulls on the readers that have been hanging from her pearl necklace and grabs her phone off the coffee table. It takes a lot not to pull the thing out of her hands and scroll through her texts myself. “Well, maybe he didn’t send me anything. Oh, here it is.” She squints into the phone, pulling it closer and further until she finds a distance she can read in. “Oh, look, his flight won’t leave for another three hours. Maybe you can still catch him. Now why did I think he was leaving this morning?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jensen!” I yell back, already halfway out the door.

  “Good luck, darlin’.”

  * * *

  I’m sure there is something on the news about this weather, but as I rarely watch grownup television, I had no idea to avoid the interstate because a monsoon would affect traffic so much that it would take me twice as long to get to Bo’s house.

  His truck is gone, and I know that means he is, too. But I don’t care. My car skids to a halt on the muddy gravel and I am out running towards the door.

  “Bo! Bo!” I scream as I pound on the wood, sobbing from the fear that I may have lost him.

  I should have told him he’s the one. I need him. I love him.

  The rain is slowing, along with the pounding of my fists on the door. Partly because I’m giving up, partly because they hurt.

  Finally, after a long while, both the rain and I give up. Everything in my being refuses to let go, but at some point I would have to.

  Defeated and lost, I turn to the drive, for the first time noting my soggy sneakers and muddied jeans. Skirting the culprit, a deep rut full of brown water, I walk to my car.

  Streams flow down my face, both from my soaked and stringy hair and from the tears flowing so freely now.

  As I sit in my car ready to take my soggy shoes off, I hear the deep rumble in the distance, and I stop to listen. It’s a familiar sound that has me racing down to the street, where I see a large black truck coming my way. My heart in my throat, I run towards it as fast as my squishy feet will take me.

  The truck stops in the middle of the road, and I can see Bo inside staring at me, almost like he’s trying to determine whether I’m an apparition or something real. Then deciding I’m really there, he jumps from his vehicle and runs to me.

  “Cris!” he calls to me and I fling myself into his arms. His lips are upon mine, and I feel the hot steel of his truck as he pushes me against the hood.

  When he pulls away, I see that he’s crying, too. Maybe he has been for a while because his eyes are red and puffy.

  “I thought you’d left,” I say to him, my hands roaming his arms, his chest. I, too, need to know that he’s real. That this is real.

  “I did. My flight’s been delayed until tomorrow because of a nasty storm coming our way. I leave first thing.”

  “I’m sorry, Bo. I should have told you, but I wanted to talk to Owen about it first. It seemed the right thing to do. Until I found out you up and left, and I thought I’d screwed up again and I would never…”

  “No, I’m sorry. I should have given you more time. I should have been more understanding.”

  I nod my head as he wipes two fat tears away with his thumbs. “So what did you want to tell me?” he asks with a smile, because he knows what I’ll say, but he wants to hear it.

  “I love you, Bo. Beyond anything I’ve ever felt. It’s you. I can’t live without you.”

  He kisses me before I can say anything more. The fire he ignites every time consumes me, and as he lifts me to him I wrap my legs around his waist. I kiss him with every fiber of my being, my heart and my soul.

  Bo walks us back to his house and practically kicks the door open.

  There is nothing but us now, nothing that can hold us back from giving ourselves in every way possible. Everything is so different. His touch is more intense, his kiss so much deeper. This time, instead of clinging to him for fear that I may never hold him again, I cling to him because I can. And when he tosses me onto the couch, I let go, knowing he’ll still be there. Still come to me.

  In his face, I see the same relief. There is also something else I see in his eyes that hadn’t been there as I watch him carefully, standing in front of me undressing. The knowledge that I am his and only his.

  “You have too much clothes on, chère,” he reminds me with a gleam in his eye as he kneels down to the couch. “Makes me feel vulnerable.”

  “Oh? Let me make you feel a little more comfortable, then,” I say with a chuckle, shimmying out of my shirt and jeans.

  Before I’m done, he loses his patience and helps me with the remainder of my clothes, then he pushes me onto my back and I wrap myself around him. His kiss is slow, painfully so. Feeling the hot burn of his cock at my entrance, I lift my hips to his.

  Bo moves away laughing, teasing. With a last bite to my lower lip, he lifts his head and looks deep into my soul. “Be gentle with me,” he whispers. I know what he’s saying. For more than a year we have been in turmoil, our hearts are raw.

  With my hands in his hair, I pull him down to me and kiss him, putting as much love in that one kiss as I can. He pushes into me at the same time, pouring his soul into me as he begins to move.

  We give to each other without restraint, and when we reach the stars, we take our time coming down.

  Lazily we lay in each other’s arms, enjoying the warmth of our naked bodies.

  “So you saw my mom?” he asks as he draws little circles on my arm with his fingertips.

  “Yeah, finally. I thought she’d be angrier.”

  “Nah, she knows what life is like.”

  “Mm.”

  “What about Owen?” he asks hesitantly.

  I sigh, out of sadness for Owen and for myself. “I think he’s glad it’s done. He’ll be all right.”

  Out of nowhere there is a loud knock on the door and Bo practically falls off me.

  “Who the fuck…” he starts.

  “Charlotte police!” a woman says loudly from outside, and then I notice the swirling blue and red lights against the white curtains.

  “Shit!” I cover myself with random pillows and a fuzzy throw, as my clothes are nowhere to be seen.

  “Ready?” Bo asks, but doesn’t wait for me to answer before he opens the door.

  There are two officers just outside, a male and a female. The woman takes one look at Bo, with his shorts on backwards, and then her eyes rove around the room taking in the disheveled state of everything including myself.

  She isn’t one bit frazzled, though I can see that the man standing behind her is completely flustered, his cheeks flame red as he wipes his brow.

  “I’m officer Cruz and this is my partner, Jameson,” she says. “Sir, is that your vehicle out there in the middle of the road?” she asks.

  My mouth drops open. Oh no, the truck! I had completely forgotten about that. Bo peeks out the door and laughs nervously.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m going to have to ask
for some identification, then I’d like you to move the truck. And, you may want to turn off that car before it runs out of battery.”

  Dear lord, I had already started my car before I heard his truck and left it on, too!

  Bo complies and he walks past the officers with his head hung low, with Jameson following him.

  Officer Cruz looks at me and smiles. “Have a good day, though looks like you may already be.” She giggles and leaves.

  “Oh my, that was embarrassing!” I tell Bo when he comes back.

  “A little,” he chuckles pulling off his shorts and walking towards me. He removes the throw and pillows and exposes me to him.

  I open my arms and legs, and pull him down to me.

  “So, are you still leaving tomorrow morning?” I ask him.

  “I’m not going anywhere that I can’t take you.”

  “Won’t Lionel be upset you didn’t show?”

  “He’s got Charles. I sort of felt like the third wheel anyway.”

  “I was afraid I’d never see you again,” I admit. “When your mom told me you were leaving, I went into a frenzy trying to get here. And when I thought I missed you…”

  He lifts my chin up and looks down into my face with an indecent amount of humor in his blue-green eyes. “You know there are phones out there, too. Besides, I was only going to be away for seven days.”

  I smack his arm. “Maybe if you’d have answered your phone I would have known that!”

  “Well, I wanted to make you squirm a little,” he says, bending down to bite my neck and making me do just that beneath him.

  “I know how much you loved Costa Rica when you went the last time, so for that I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry you’re here now and I get my chance with you. With everything that we’ve been through to be together, I’m never going to let you go.”

  He kisses me slowly then, languidly, enjoying me the way I had done that night with him at Bonheur. Even when his shaft is hard as a rock, and he penetrates me, taking my breath as he always does, he takes his time. This is no fuck, but a consummation of love.

  I look deep into his eyes, into his soul, and because I need it, I demand, “Say you’re mine, Bo. Say it.”

  “I’m yours, Cris,” he says without hesitation. “Always yours.”

  Epilogue

  “So you made it okay?” Owen asks.

  “Yeah, it was a rough landing, but the plane didn’t crash, so I guess that’s good.”

  “Hi, Mom!” Mia pushes into the small video image on my phone and waves.

  “Hey, love. Are you all ready for the game?” I ask, seeing her in her soccer gear. “I’m so sorry I’m going to miss it!”

  “Don’t worry, mom. You always come!” she says. “Have fun, gotta go!” she runs off screen, then I hear her yell, “I love you!” as Owen takes the phone back.

  “You remember where to go, right?” I try not to sound concerned, but the lack of confidence comes through in my voice.

  “Cris, I go to every game, too,” he reminds me.

  “I know, but you usually head right to the stands.”

  “Well, if I get lost Mia will tell me. Besides, Laura is going to be there.”

  Speak of the devil, her golden head pops into view. “I’ll take care of everything,” she reassures me. “Girls, get your gear in the car please!” she yells off screen. Sammy runs by behind her mother, giving me a quick wave as she passes by the camera.

  Knowing that Laura will be there running the show makes me feel better. In the time that I’ve known her she’s proven to be a wonderful mother, who really has her shit together. She’s very much like Jess in that way. And even though she’s got her two kids, JB and Sammy, when she took on Mia as a stepdaughter, she hit the floor running.

  “Okay, got to run,” Owen says to me. “Have fun and don’t worry about anything. Mia will be great.” With that he hangs up.

  It’s so strange to think about the unexpected turn of events over the last couple of years. Never in a million years would I have thought that Owen and I would be living separate, yet parallel lives. Never in a gazillion years would I have ever imagined he’d have married Laura, Bo’s ex-wife. Never!

  But life is crazy and I can’t make that shit up! Mia and Sammy being in the same soccer league set things into motion. Owen came to the game, so did Laura. I don’t really even know when it happened, or how because I can’t bring myself to ask for the details, but one day they met and then it was instant. They married not six months later.

  It makes me happy, really it does, to see the way Owen lights up when she comes into the room. Though I must admit, that with the joy it brings me to see him so happy, comes the sting of jealousy. I think that’s normal for anyone with their exes. With me, it’s also that I really never did see him glow that way with me.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and reflect on the day we separated, now over two years ago. He’d told me that he loved me, that I was his forever. Well, while I don’t doubt he will love me forever, as I do him, he certainly has found the ONE. Just like I have. Sometimes I wonder if our marriage was a waiting period for the two of us. I will never regret the time we had together. It was great, amazing even. But what we both have now, it’s so much more than we could have dreamed. Though it definitely makes for a very interesting dynamic at holiday get-togethers.

  A knock on the door brings me back from my inner thoughts. It’s Wendy, the owner and operator of Maison Bordeaux in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I smile as I see the older woman standing at my door. “Miss Wendy, what can I do for you.”

  “Oh, I was coming to see what I can do for you? Is everything comfortable?” she asks.

  “Yes, of course. I’m heading out for a little while, actually. My husband is waiting for me at that tequila bar across the street. I’ll walk down with you.”

  I grab my purse and we walk down to the long hallway that leads to the main doors. Stopping in front of one of the old mirrors hanging from the walls, I give myself a last glance. Nodding at my reflection in approval, I turn back to Wendy and wave. “Have a good evening!”

  “You, too, Mrs. Rougier. By the way,” she says stopping me. “The color red, it becomes you.”

  Part III

  The Other Side

  Bo

  40

  The cool breeze does nothing to ease the sweat rolling between my shoulder blades on this unseasonably warm winter day. I’ve already stripped down to my white T-shirt and am seriously considering taking that off too when my mother hands me the last of the boxes my stepdad has broken down.

  “That’s it,” she says, wiping her brow.

  “All right, Momma. I’ll take them to the house.”

  “What’re you gonna do with them?”

  “I’m going to see Cole at some point this month, so I’ll give them to him. Since he’s movin’ down here, he’ll need boxes.” After loading them onto the bed of my truck, I close the tailgate.

  Somewhere behind us, we hear a garage door open and we both turn. A tall blond woman with three very blond kids is walking up the driveway diagonally across the street, and I can hear her chatting with another woman there.

  “Looks like there are a lot of families here,” I note. “Do you like it?”

  “This was a good move, Boey. But I won’t lie, I miss New Orleans.”

  “We’ll go back to visit soon. I promise.” I give her a hug, planting a kiss on her vanilla-scented hair, and then get into the truck. “I’ll be by with some dinner tonight.”

  “Just watch the seasoning. Your dad refuses to take his reflux medication.”

  “Will do, Momma.”

  Turning the key, I feel the engine of my Raptor roar to life. After I circle around in the cul-de-sac, I head up the street and stop at the house where the women are talking. I’m curious to see who my parents will be living next to.

  If it had been up to me, they would’ve moved to Huntersville. Somewhere closer, where I could keep an eye on them. But my mothe
r said she was sick of old homes and wanted something newer, even if it was a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter neighborhood.

  Their realtor found this place. It’s nice. The houses are all some shade of white—ivory, bone, off-white, eggshell. But the siding will be easy to care for, as will the small yard in the front.

  The two-story house I pull up to now is, of course, white, with perfectly manicured grass and two black rockers on the large porch.

  Everyone moves aside, the women gathering the children next to them. When I roll down my tinted window, the beautiful blonde walks up to me with a child on her hip. The other woman, who’s much shorter and has dark hair, stands behind her while holding a little girl’s hand, making her hard to see.

  “Hi there!” the blonde greets. “Are y’all new here?”

  The brunette peeks from behind her, and I get a clear view of her face. Our eyes lock momentarily, but in that sliver of time, I see a thousand visions of lust, and the other woman disappears. My mouth is instantly dry, and I’m consumed by her unique beauty, the fullness of her lips, the glow of amber irises against smooth tan skin. My hands itch to remove the pin from her hair and release it from its messy bun to see if it reaches the curve of her hip. The thought of it makes me smile.

  The heat in the truck suddenly seems to rise a hundred degrees. A bead of sweat makes its way down my neck and into my clavicle. I’m burning up for her, yet she looks as cool as a cucumber in her black and blue checkered jacket.

  Or maybe she’s not as cool as I thought. When my eyes return to hers, she appears to be unnerved. Hardly breathing. Sweat rolls from her temple over the soft line of her jaw. And if I had to guess from the way she’s biting her lower lip, it’s me who’s made her that way.

  My grin broadens, and being merciful—though I don’t know if it’s for her sake or mine—I turn back to the blonde, and when I remember she asked me a question, I reply, “No ma’am. My folks just moved in. I live in Huntersville, ’bout half an hour or so away.”