Hopeless Vows

by Rachael Duncan

  “I mauled you? I seem to remember a certain pair of delicate hands trying to rip my shirt off,” he says smugly.

  I throw a pillow at him that he easily catches. “You know what I mean. They recorded the whole thing. You should have seen their faces when you ran into the kitchen. It’s embarrassing.” I flop back into the pillows.

  “Want me to kick their asses? Would that make you feel better?” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice. He’s obviously not embarrassed by this at all.

  “Ugh!” My mini tantrum is muffled by the pillows, losing some of its affect. A second later, I feel the bed dip, letting me know he’s sat down next to me.

  “What can I do to make it better?” Turning my head in his direction, I see the sincerity in his eyes. “Want me to tackle the camera guy and steal the tape? I’m bigger than he is. I could so take him. Just say the word.” A small smile pulls at my mouth, breaking some of the tension. “Ah, there’s that beautiful smile.” He reaches out to brush the hair away from my face. “It’ll be okay, Jillian, I promise. You were dressed, so no one will see anything risqué.”

  “I know,” I say on a sigh. That makes me feel mildly better, but it’ll still be hard to look them in the eye.

  “Now come eat with me before dinner gets cold.” He helps me up and we head out to the dining room.

  After a delicious meal, we sit across from each other sipping on wine. “So . . . now that we’re on talking terms again, I guess it’s a good time to do our homework.”

  We were told to start asking each other questions about our pasts. Even things we don’t necessarily want to discuss. I’ve been putting it off; the thought terrifying me. It was easy to do when we were fighting, but now that we’ve made up, I knew it was only a matter of time before Austin broached the topic.

  Taking another sip from my glass, I say, “Okay, you want to go first?” I do my best to regulate my breathing. I don’t want to do this. The one thing I’ve avoided talking about with him in detail is my family. And I know it’s the one thing he wants to know more about.

  “Why do you think all your other relationships failed?”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, I can do this. This I can answer. “I have a hard time trusting people. I expect them to let me down until they finally do. I guess I set us up for failure before we even get started.”

  “You do that with me sometimes.” His blunt response takes me back slightly.

  “What do you mean?” I move around in my seat uncomfortably.

  “You have walls built up around you and you’re reluctant to let them down.” He folds up the piece of paper with the question on it and throws it to the middle of the table.

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “No,” he interrupts. “You don’t need to apologize or explain further. But you’re in luck because I’m a patient and determined man.” He ends his statement with a wink.

  Wanting to get the focus off of me, I ask, “What about you? Why did none of your past relationships work?”

  He stares straight into my eyes and says, “Because they weren’t you. I was looking for you my whole life and never knew it.” He doesn’t blink, his stare unwavering as he sears his declaration into my mind.

  “Nice line.” He’s making me uncomfortable, putting me on edge and getting closer than I’d like.

  “It’s not a line. I believe everything happens for a reason, and I believe my other relationships failed so they’d lead me to you.”

  Fate. Is that what this is?

  No, it’s karma being a bitch. He doesn’t know what I know. If he did, he wouldn’t be spilling this poetic bullshit about us being destined for each other.

  “Your turn,” I say to switch gears.

  “How come you never talk about your family or ask about mine? That’s usually normal things that are covered when you get to know someone, but you seem to avoid it like the damn plague.” I notice he’s not reading off of the cards and thinking up this one all on his own.

  “Because they’re all dead!” I burst out. “What more is there to talk about?” My hands wave around before dropping to my lap again. What I said was harsh, but I’d rather he think I’m a complete and total bitch than know the truth.

  “I think that’s your defense mechanism,” he says calmly, not reacting at all to my outburst.

  “Are you the therapist now?” I spit out. I don’t want to go down this road and I have to shut this shit down now.

  “No, but I know you, and you’re not that heartless. When you’re ready to talk about them, I’m here for you.” He picks up his wine and takes another sip.

  I stare at him slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. Here I am acting like a raging bitch, and he’s as cool as a cucumber in the face of my insensitivity.

  What would he do if I confessed right now? Would he be as calm? Would he still accept me?

  No, he’d hate me. As much as I want to push him away, I don’t think I could live with that kind of reaction from him. Because as much as I tell myself I don’t care, I really do.

  Shit, how am I going to make it through these last thirteen days?

  MY INDEX FINGER taps on the same key repeatedly as I stare absently at the decaying bouquet of roses on my desk. It’s fitting really. Each day, they wilt more and more, almost like a countdown to the end of Austin and I. I do nothing to revive them or prolong their life, knowing it’s a lost cause. Just like my time with Austin. The vibrancy of our future together is smothered, leaving only fond memories and thoughts of what if, what could have been if life didn’t hate me.

  Reaching over, I grab the card he had delivered with the flowers on Monday—always Monday—and read it for the hundredth time.

  Jillian,

  With each day, my feelings for you grow. I’ve had many doubts in my life, but none about you. I believe with all my heart that we’re together for a reason. I hope you feel the same. See you after work.

  XO,

  Austin

  Tomorrow is the big day. The day I walk away. I will have officially fulfilled my obligation to the show and have completed the eight-week experiment. My chest aches knowing the decision I must make. The more I think about it, the more my stomach twists in knots to the point where I feel physically sick. Every minute that ticks by is like another step toward a cliff where I step off on the final day and disappear into nothingness.

  His bright smile and warm, brown eyes flash through my mind. I love the way he looks at me. It’s as if I’m the only woman—no, the only person—that exists and I always have his attention.

  He makes me feel loved.

  The words haven’t been uttered aloud, but I feel it in my bones and in the deepest part of my soul. The part that doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. The part that desperately wants to bury this emotion behind a black wall hoping it dies. I always had doubts that I’d know when someone truly cared for me. My parents weren’t the best examples, and I never experienced it as an adult either. But with Austin, it’s there in his eyes. In his touch. In the way he kisses me. In the words he says.

  God, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this. I’ve been leading him on. Not intentionally, but I should have kept more distance between us. I shouldn’t have given him false hope and expectations, but I did. I told him he could fly and then clipped his wings. That probably makes me a more disgusting human being, but I’ve said it my whole life; I was born to be a shitty person. It’s in my DNA.

  I tried, really I did. He’s just so damn charming and caring and he’s everything I could ever dream of for my husband. That’s what makes this so hard. It’ll hurt him, that much is sure. The thought alone is crippling, but this will be nothing compared to the hurt I’m saving him from down the road.

  A single tear streams down my face. I quickly dash it away with the back of my hand, becoming angry instantly. I thought I’d laid all of this to rest. I’d come to terms with what happened and moved on. I ran as far away from that life as I could and never loo
ked back. With Austin, all of it is thrown back in my face.

  Fuck you, Mom and Dad. Fuck you. This is all your fault. I have my happily ever after waiting for me in my—our—apartment, and I have to give it all up because of you. How many times can you possibly ruin my fucking life?

  Folding my arms over each other on top of my desk, I lay my head down and take in a deep breath before more tears escape. The part I dread the most tomorrow is the look on his face when I make my choice known.

  Time creeps by pretty slowly when you’re wallowing in self-pity. After what feels like an eternity, I’m finally home, walking through the door and kicking off my heels. The relief is instant and momentary all at once as I catch sight of Austin waiting for me in the living room. His heart-stopping smile is in place, making it the most wonderful and worst thing to come home to. It hits me this is the last night I’ll come home and be greeted by him. The realization is a punch to the gut that causes an ache to start in my center and travel to my chest. Taking a slow, measured breath, I try to push tomorrow away and enjoy Austin’s company for one more night.

  On the coffee table are some lit candles with a single red rose lying down between them. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says tenderly. He’s hesitant in his approach, almost like his inner clock is ticking too, telling him our time is almost up. Can he sense it? I hope so. It might make it easier to deal with. He’s usually sure about everything, but seeing him off balance tonight has me wanting to set his mind at ease, if only until tomorrow.

  “Hey,” I say with a smile. The small gesture relaxes his body a little. “What’s all this?” I ask as I wave to the table.

  “I just wanted us to enjoy our last evening with some quiet time.”

  “Ah, yes, our last night together.” I pretend like the thought has slipped my mind, but it’s the only thing I’ve been focused on all day. I’m a mass of nerves and I wonder if the other couples going through this same experiment are feeling the same way. Are they happy and able to stay married? Do they hate each other? I’m sure none of them are experiencing the same dilemma I’m faced with.

  “Is it?” What remained of his easy going nature has vanished, in its place nothing but absolute seriousness. I know what I should say. I should be honest and tell him where my head is at, but the words get stuck in my throat.

  I swallow hard. “I guess we’ll see.” I try for a teasing smile to lighten the mood, but I’m not sure it works if his reaction is any indication. I take a seat next to him on the couch where he leans in and brushes a kiss against my cheek. The gentleness of it sends butterflies to my stomach. No matter how many times he does this, the effect he has on me never changes. “So, do we have any plans tonight?”

  “I thought we could order in and just hang out. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sounds perfect.” My head turns toward him to see him staring at me. He searches my face for answers I can’t give him right now.

  “Okay, I’ll order in a second.” Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he pulls me in closer to him until my head is resting on his chest. “Right now, I just want to hold you,” he whispers.

  He must know, or at least suspect. I can feel it in the subtle trembling of his body, the gentle exhale as his breath hits the top of my head, and the resignation in his voice. And it breaks me. My eyes squeeze shut tightly as I try to stave off the emotions threatening to break free of the black wall I hide them behind.

  We order some Chinese and eat it at the bar top in the kitchen. Both of us are quiet, each lost in our own thoughts. The tension in the air is making me anxious. I don’t want our last night together to be like this. I want to enjoy the few hours we have left.

  “Can we forget?” I ask suddenly.

  After he finishes chewing, he says, “Forget what?”

  “About tomorrow. It’s hanging over us like a dark cloud right now. Let’s have fun tonight and not worry about what tomorrow brings.”

  He stares at me for a moment before nodding. “Okay, deal. We live for today.” He flashes a reassuring smile that puts my worries at ease, but only briefly because his eyes tell the truth. He’s worried, scared, and dreading this as much as I am.

  The rest of our meal is enjoyed over light conversation. Things are still off since it’s impossible to completely forget no matter how many promises we make to each other, but they’re better than they were.

  When we’re done with dinner, we decide to clean up really quick and watch a movie. I put the final dish in the dishwasher and spin around quickly, running into his hard chest. A gasp leaves my lips from being startled by the contact. My eyes meet up with his, and like so often, the electricity is there. It’s coursing between us, threatening to spark and ignite. I can’t look away or move, and he doesn’t either.

  Without warning, his hands are in my hair and his lips are planted firmly on mine. Our tongues clash in a ferocious dance while our hands grab onto each other and hold tight. Warmth spreads through my entire body, an inferno wreaking havoc on me. Every thought about the future flies out the window. Right here, right now, this is exactly where I should be.

  Several minutes go by and I know my lips are swollen, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Suddenly, I’m being lifted up by my hips. Instinctually, my legs wrap around his waist as he walks us out of the kitchen and down the hall to our bedroom. Without breaking apart from my mouth, his foot kicks the door closed with a slam, allowing us a little privacy from the prying lenses.

  We fall onto the bed together, still just as frantic as we were in the kitchen. I pull at his shirt, desperate to rip it off. He returns the feeling by roughly grabbing my ribs, pulling me as close as possible. He slows down a bit until he’s peppering my jaw with kisses.

  “Jillian.” Kiss, kiss. “I want you.” Kiss, kiss. “So damn bad.” Kiss, kiss. “But we need to slow down. Let me cherish you.” Looking through lust filled eyes, I nod.

  His lips begin their journey at the spot behind my ear, trailing slowly down my neck. The closer he gets to my collarbone, the more my toes curl. While he explores the exposed flesh of my chest and neck, his hands roam over the skin under my shirt. My stomach flexes with the contact as he barely touches me. My hands crawl up his firm biceps, over his broad shoulders, and thread in his thick hair. With him settled between my legs, I can feel his hardness pressing into my core, heightening my need.

  When I don’t think I can take his slow torture any longer, he leans up slightly to undo the buttons on my blouse. My shirt falls open, exposing the black lace bra I have on underneath. “My God, you’re so damn sexy,” he says in the gruff voice I love so much. Leaning down, he kisses the swells of my breasts. My nipples harden in response and anticipation, waiting for their turn. Soon, he pulls down the cups of my bra, baring me to him. The cool air hits my sensitive buds but is quickly warmed when his mouth latches on one, and then the other. His tongue swirls around it before sucking hard. My back arches as a moan leaves my mouth.

  “Mmmm, I love that noise you make. You’ll be doing that a lot tonight,” he says in a husky whisper against my skin. The thought is exhilarating and I can’t wait to see what he has in store for me.

  I lift up when he reaches behind me, making it easier for him to unhook my bra. Throwing it to the floor, I reach for the bottom of his shirt and pull it up and over his head. He starts to lean back over me, but I place my palm on his chest and push him back. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Let me enjoy the view for a minute,” I say.

  A lopsided grin spreads across Austin’s face, making my heart beat faster. “Don’t mind if I do.” Sitting back on his knees, his heated stare travels down my face before settling on my aching breasts. My first reaction is to cover myself. I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life, but I resist the urge. There’s something so erotic, so sensual about this moment. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I’m laid bare for him as he is me. When our eyes connect again, I can’t take another second of separation. Grabbing his tattooed forearm, I pull him back on top of m
e.

  “Okay, I’ve seen enough,” I say against his lips. His only response is a groan that gets swallowed by my mouth.

  With one arm beside my head supporting his body weight, the other slides down my body, stopping to palm my breast before traveling further south. When he starts to undo the button on my pants, I almost sigh in relief. Leaning back again, he pulls them off at an excruciatingly slow pace.

  “I get taking our time,” I say breathlessly. “But this is torture, Austin. If you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to finish myself off.” His eyes flash before darkening.

  “As much as I’d love to watch that, I have something else in mind.” With that, he yanks my pants off the rest of the way, the only thing concealing me is the matching black lace thong. It doesn’t last long as he slips that off as well. “Perfect,” he murmurs when he has me completely naked under him. “Just fucking perfection.” Lips feather across my abdomen, causing goose bumps to spread at the light contact. My breathing accelerates in anticipation of where I want him most. Luckily, he doesn’t make me wait long. His tongue darts out and licks up my seam, causing me to moan and grab at his hair. “Damn, gorgeous, you’re soaked. Makes it really hard to resist burying myself in you right now.”

  “Yes, do it,” I all but beg.

  “Not yet. I want some dessert first.” All conversation stops as his tongue works its magic. He licks me up and down slowly, stopping at my bundle of nerves each time to flutter his tongue over it. When he moves away from my clit, I want to scream in frustration, but he always returns to it, teasing me like he’s so good at.

  A few minutes later, I feel myself building toward euphoria. My hand fists in his hair while I chant a slew of incoherent words. His tongue moves quickly over my clit, driving me toward the cliff even faster. Right before I explode, he inserts two fingers into my wet core, pumping them in and out. I buck up as the most powerful orgasm rips through my body. I scream out his name as I try to crawl away, but he pins me down and keeps lapping at my center, wringing every last ripple of ecstasy out of me.