by Sam Mariano
Not that she blamed him. Although she didn’t like to think of it anymore, Ethan had a whole life that she wasn’t a part of, and of course he wouldn’t want to risk that.
Not that she wanted him to or anything….
Still, it stung just a little.
Actually, more than a little.
As if he could sense her thoughts, Ethan shifted in his sleep, letting go of her and rolling over, turning his back to her.
Inexplicably, that made her sad.
The contentment was gone, and in its place she felt restless and uncomfortable. Maybe the night had worn out its welcome.
Of course, Ethan was her ride home, so it wasn’t like she could just leave.
After lying there for a few more minutes with the same thoughts running through her head, she rolled out of the bed and padded across the room, accidentally kicking her purse, which had been placed in front of the mini-fridge along with her clothes, neatly folded and placed on the ground. She picked it all up, clutching it to her chest, and went into the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the way-too-bright light.
Digging her cell phone out, she was thankful to still have some battery left, so she was able to send a text message. Setting the phone down, she focused on getting all of her clothes back on. Thankfully, her phone buzzed a moment later.
Quickly tapping out a reply, she pushed send and then turned the light off, walking out into the room, which was suddenly even darker than it had been before her eyes adjusted to the bathroom.
She wasn’t sure she had everything.
Her clothes were all on, she had her phone and her purse… it seemed like she had brought more with her, but she knew she didn’t.
She was just reluctant to leave the room.
Reluctant to leave him.
Dammit.
Since she still had a little time, she made her way over to the chair beside the bed and took a seat, placing her purse on the ottoman and resting her elbow on her leg, leaning on her palm as she gazed at Ethan, lying in bed asleep.
She should probably wake him up. Of course, by 4:15 am, his wife had probably figured out he wasn’t coming home—and she was sure he had a suitable excuse, since the truth obviously wouldn’t work in that scenario—but he might need to set an alarm or something.
But then he would have to come up with something suitable to say to her, and she didn’t want lies. The truth would be worse.
No words. She didn’t need words.
True to his word, even despite her own desires, he had proven what she asked him to prove to her. Even when she didn’t say no, he was able to stop.
That was good.
For some reason, it didn’t feel good, but logically she knew it was. Her brain just wasn’t working right—probably from lack of sleep.
Yeah, that was it.
Her phone lit up eventually and she stood, sighing as she took one last look at him. She wished she could encapsulate the moment, even though she knew logically it meant nothing.
Illogically, it felt like it did.
To her, anyway.
She knew that was stupid. She knew that.
So, with one last look, she made her way out of the hotel room, down the corridor, and out the door. The maroon sedan was parked right in front of it, the lights still on, waiting for her.
As she opened up the door and slid inside, hugging herself against the chilly early morning air, Willow glanced over with a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”
Her brother nodded his head, flicking a glance at the hotel door, but he didn’t ask any questions.
She loved him for that.
The only thing he asked, as he put the car in reverse, was, “You okay?”
Injecting false brightness into voice, she said, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Todd nodded, accepting her answer, and made his way toward the exit.
Before they pulled out, Willow glanced back, just to make sure Ethan hadn’t come rushing out to see where she went.
Of course he didn’t, so she turned to face the front.
“You sure?” her brother asked.
“I’m great,” she assured him, nodding her head.
Looking even less convinced than before, he offered another nod but didn’t ask again.
Ethan hadn't heard from Willow since the night they had spent together—at least, he knew they spent part of it together.
It was nearly 5 am when he woke up, and Willow had already fled.
He may not have thought of it as fleeing, except she hadn't spoken to him since.
Not really.
The next day, as soon as he thought she might be awake and he had a spare moment, he sent her a text to just see how she was doing.
Her response had been, "fine."
That was it.
The last thing she had ever said to him.
He had no goddamn idea why. When he had fallen asleep, everything had been okay. She certainly hadn't seemed mad at him.
That was the only reason he could come up with for not hearing from her though.
He still kept tabs on her, even though he knew he shouldn't. Especially because every time he checked on her, there were new pictures of her with a different dipshit on her arm.
Every time he looked, it soured his mood, yet he found himself checking every goddamn weekend.
Logically, he knew he should consider himself lucky. He managed to get away with things he knew people weren’t supposed to get away with. Instead of losing everything, he had somehow managed to keep his family together, not get thrown in jail, and then Willow turned out to be fucking perfect, not only forgiving him, but striking up a friendship and then offering him her body, of all things. Then, quiet as could be, she disappeared afterward.
Nobody was that lucky.
Nobody.
He knew the other shoe had to be out there somewhere, just waiting to smack him in the head as it fell.
Jarring him out of his thoughts, Amanda’s fingers grazed his arm, then she curled her arm around him. He was lying in bed with his back facing her, but she tugged on his arm, so he rolled over onto his back and peered at her curiously.
She smiled at him. “Hey you. I thought you might be asleep.”
“Nah.” It was a ridiculous notion. Now that he wasn’t losing sleep over his first transgression, he had new ones to keep him up at night.
Sleep.
Sleep was for the innocent.
Apparently pleased at his sleeplessness, Amanda pulled herself up closer to him and leaned in for a kiss. He obliged, even though he couldn’t remember the last time she had given him a good night kiss, but then he realized she wasn’t looking for a good night kiss—she was interested in a bit more than that.
Not sure exactly what to do, he lazily rested an arm around her waist and kissed her back, but he couldn’t seem to stay in one place—his lips were on Amanda’s, but his mind was flying back to that hotel room with Willow.
It was like there was a vat of guilt, liquefied, roiling around in the pit of his stomach.
After a minute, Amanda pulled back. He felt a little relieved, releasing her and letting his hand drop back to his side of the bed. He offered her a tiny, pointless smile, and she frowned as she sat back in her own spot.
"What's wrong with you?" Amanda asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What do you mean?"
"You're never in the mood anymore." Averting her gaze, she said, "I've finally lost most of my baby weight and you haven't even noticed. I thought you'd be...interested again."
"I was never not interested, honey. Not because of—how could you think that?"
"What else could I think?" she demanded, her voice dipping a little. "You certainly haven’t… I feel like you aren't attracted to me anymore."
"Of course I am," he said, pulling her into his arms.
"Doesn't seem like it," she muttered sadly. "Why won't you tell me what's going on with you, Ethan?"
He knew that it was the opening to tell
her any version of the truth, to get it out in the open and try to explain it to her. As terrible a thought as it was, he even figured if she was feeling a little insecure, she might be more inclined to forgive him...if he only told part of the truth.
He was sure she wouldn't forgive him if she knew all of it.
Pretty sure, anyway.
It seemed pointless to only tell half the truth though. It would only hurt her, and especially if he had made her feel like that, he didn’t want to make it worse by telling her he had nearly slept with another woman.
He was just being a shitty everything lately. Obviously a shitty husband, but he had hoped she wouldn’t notice. Of course she noticed.
“Listen to me,” he said, in lieu of the truth. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. But you need to know, no part of how I’ve been lately has anything to do with you.”
“Then what is it?” she asked, frowning up at him. “Talk to me, Ethan.”
Since he couldn’t—wouldn’t—he shut down instead. “I don’t want an argument, Amanda. I’m tired.”
Baffled, she said, “I wasn’t arguing, I just—”
“We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he said, rolling over.
Of course they wouldn’t.
Heaving a sigh of irritation, she made a point to violently yank her blanket up and squirm around before finally getting comfortable.
Ethan closed his eyes and dreaded the day she would push him until he cracked.
It had to be coming.
It just had to be.
---
“Pick up milk.”
Ethan sighed and dropped his phone in the cup holder, turning his signal on and turning around as soon as he was able.
It had been a boring-ass day at work, nobody wanted to misbehave when it was convenient for him to catch them, and he had accomplished pretty much nothing.
Consequently, he left early.
It slipped his mind to tell Amanda—which never used to happen, so that was his fault.
After he parked the car, he texted her to ask if they needed anything else while he was there, then he got out, slipping his keys into his pocket and headed inside the grocery store.
A moment later, she told him to see if they had a pumpkin carving kit since he never found the one he swore he put in the top of the closet last year.
Since he had no damn idea where that thing was, he made note of it.
Once he was in the Halloween aisle, he figured he would get an extra bag of candy just in case they ran out. Alison snuck the miniature peanut butter cups every time she thought someone wasn’t looking.
Candy under arm and new carving set in hand, he turned around and headed for the milk.
“I think we need Twizzlers.”
His head jerked up at the sound of Willow’s voice. There she was, walking down the aisle in his direction wearing a pair of snug jeans, a black top, and a burgundy jacket. She wasn’t looking in his direction though, she was looking over at the teenager walking beside her—a scrawny blonde kid who was staring down at his cell phone while he walked.
“She’s not coming,” Scrawny said.
Willow rolled her eyes. “Lame. Tell her she’s lame. We still need Twizzlers.”
Then she looked up and came to an abrupt stop when she spotted Ethan standing at the end of the aisle, looking at her.
“Uh, hi,” she said, a touch awkwardly.
The kid beside her glanced up, but apparently lost interest on sight, looking back down at his cell phone.
“Hi,” he returned, none too smoothly himself. “How are you?”
She smiled a little, but it wasn’t a look of amusement—maybe at him, but certainly not with him. “Fine. I’m fine.”
“Right,” he said, remembering the text. He couldn’t expand on that with the kid standing there.
As if reading his mind, Willow lightly rested her hand on the arm of the kid next to her. His head jerked up in surprise and Willow spoke before he could.
“Hey, you know what, I bet we’re going to need a basket. Could you go get one?”
Nodding, he took one last glance in Ethan’s direction and then turned to go do Willow’s bidding.
Ethan smiled, but his didn’t feel real either. “Neat trick. Do you give him a treat when he comes back?”
“Only if he doesn’t slobber,” she deadpanned.
Ethan scoffed, but maintained his smile. “Makes sense. Do you have any female friends, or…?”
Her smile turned a little more knowing then. “Why do you assume we’re only friends?”
“Are you seriously trying to make me jealous with a fucking kid?” Shaking his head, irritated with himself immediately, he said, “Nope, never mind, I didn’t—never mind.”
Willow laughed. “God, Ethan, we’re not awkward exes. And I’m not trying to make you jealous—like I knew you would be at the grocery store. You’re right, I did! I just sit outside your house every night waiting for you to leave, and if you do, I go round up the nearest guy and see if I can run into you.” Eyes widening mockingly, she added, “I can’t believe this is the first time it’s worked.”
“Why were you pissed at me?” he asked, before he could think better of it.
Her smirk waned. “I wasn’t pissed.”
“You seem a little pissed.”
Lifting her eyebrows, she said, “Um, no. You’re the one being aggressive with me because I came to the grocery store with a boy. You have a wife. You cannot be serious. And you didn’t want to fuck me anyway, so I’m not sure why it matters.”
Darting a glance in each direction to make sure no one overheard her, he looked at her pointedly and said, “Want to keep it down?”
She shrugged, but lowered her voice and stepped a little closer. “I don’t know what your problem is. You did your penance or whatever, you don’t have to feel guilty anymore, okay? I release you,” she said, wiggling her fingers in the air as if doing magic.
“I told you—” He sighed heavily, shaking his head. Women could be so exhausting.
“It’s fine,” she assured him, offering a less sarcastic smile that time. “We’re cool.”
“You don’t seem cool.”
“You don’t seem cool.”
Since he had absolutely no argument, he nodded his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just surprised, I didn’t expect to see you.”
She nodded, seeming to accept his apology, her gaze drifting to the pumpkin carving kit. “Getting ready for Halloween?”
“Yep,” he replied, but inexplicably, he still felt a little sullen himself. Not that it was her fault, but seeing her with that kid reminded him of his own problems at home, which reminded him of not only the hotel, but the very start of all his fucking problems, and Willow was at the center of all of it.
Not to blame, but still the center of the storm.
Ethan sighed.
Willow frowned and stepped a little closer, putting a hand on his arm. “Hey, are you okay?”
Producing a slight smile, he said, “Your tricks won’t work on me.”
She laughed shortly. “Keep telling yourself that.”
There was no malice though—she actually winked at him.
Well, fuck. Seeing her just made him aware that he actually missed her.
He didn’t mean to say anything else—apparently he was doing and saying all kinds of things he didn’t mean that day—but he asked, “Why didn’t you ever text me again?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but then her gaze jerked up behind him and she released his arm, not moving immediately, but taking on a more demure smile and then shifting away much more subtly. “Well, tell her I said hi.”
That was an odd response—the kid had obviously dismissed him, he wasn’t going to be suspicious that she had stopped to talk to him. Hell, he could be anybody.
Then the kid returned to Willow’s side without a basket, and her mother—the fun one, at least—rounded the corner and said
enthusiastically, “Well, hello there!”
Fuck.
Pasting on a polite smile, Ethan turned and saw Lauren wheeling a cart in his direction, a few containers of fruit punch rolling around in the front.
“Hi,” he said casually, nodding his head. “How are you?”
“Great,” she said cheerily. “We’re just picking up a few things for Willow’s party—she’s having a Halloween party.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun.”
Smiling brightly, she bobbed her head. “We think so. I would invite you, but it’s kids only.”
“Mom,” Willow drawled, shooting her mother a look of annoyance.
“Sorry, sorry, not kids—he knew what I meant.”
The correct assumption, since he was an adult. He glanced at Willow, and she shook her head very slightly, clearly perturbed.
Well, sure. It was awkward when you knew what they knew. No way her mother would see them as peers.
“So, it was nice seeing you,” Ethan said, preparing to make his escape. “I’m glad everything’s…” He trailed off, but they both merely nodded. With a blanket wave, he turned and headed toward the milk.
Before he got out of earshot, he heard the scrawny kid mutter, “He doesn’t look like a PI.”
Willow’s mom merely laughed, while Willow fell silent.
He wondered if she was brooding. It was disturbing how quickly she turned into a teenager when her mother was in the picture—not her fault, of course; she was a teenager, but he just didn’t think of her that way when she wasn’t directly beside a parent figure.
Feeling a little uncomfortable, he grabbed the milk and made a beeline for the register before he ran into them again.
The harder she tried not to think of Ethan, the more she did.
Justin, her friend from the day before, had refused to dress up for the costume party since he didn’t think he would look cool enough. After the grocery store, he had the bright-ass idea to show up with a name tag that said, “Ethan Wilde” and claim he was dressed up as a PI.
Fucking hilarious.
The party itself had been her mom’s idea. Since Willow seemed to be “normalizing” a bit more, her mom thought a party was a good idea.