In Pursuit

by Luck, Olivia

  If Claire knows that I came into the apartment, she doesn’t let on when she leaves later. I am still snuggling into Harris’ shirt when the door clicks closed, for once not an obscene slam.

  Across the room, my phone buzzes. At the thought that it might be Harris, I jump out of my cozy sheets and grab at my phone. It’s just Amanda, letting me know she is back in town and wondering if I can come over today with some fabric samples. She wants to meet around three, so I’ve got the morning to work on a new business proposal for the couple I recently met, and draft some blog posts.

  A few hours later, I’m sitting in the posh McDaniel living room with a well-coiffed Amanda. Eyes clear of tears and mascara perfectly in place, she gives me a slight smile. “Can we forget that incident last week?”

  I open my mouth to respond. Then close it. Then open it again.

  If Amanda and I were closer friends, and she wasn’t a client, I might speak my mind but from her tone and the perfect housewife mask firmly in place, I decide it better to keep my opinions silent.

  “What incident?”

  She nods sharply and then a genuine smile crosses her face. “Now, let’s talk design.”

  For two hours we discuss her home and avoid all unpleasant topics like adultery.

  I enjoy my time with Amanda, but it’s shallow. Underneath our conversation lies my desire to ask her about Peter, but she already told me that it’s in the past. I don’t know her well enough to stress my concern, but maybe in time. Holding on to the information makes me uneasy, but I will do what I need to maintain my business relationship with Amanda.

  A few hours later, when I return to the condo, I’m anxious. Claire probably guessed I was with Harris when I didn’t come home last night. The last time I stayed with him, she tried to sabotage our burgeoning relationship. Harris said they’ve talked it through, but I doubt Claire will retreat so easily.

  I sigh as I stand outside our apartment.

  Just go in.

  When I unlock the front door at home, the apartment is eerily soundless. I quietly close the door behind me. As soon as it clicks shut and I’m halfway into our home, I hear it. First a smacking sound, like an open hand on skin and then a very female, lusty moan.

  Should I stay or should I go?

  There’s no one in the living area, but the telltale sounds of sex stream from Claire’s bedroom. On instinct, my eyes fly to her door. It’s partway open, and as I walk closer and closer I can make out Claire and her partner.

  There, spread out with her bare breasts and stomach pressed to the mattress lies Claire. And then behind her, with his pants pooled around his ankles, stands Peter McDaniel, fucking his wife's best friend doggie style. For a few thrusts, the only sounds are his balls flapping against her ass.

  I clamp my hand on my mouth to smother the gasp caught in my throat. Luckily, neither one notices me as I race into my bedroom. Instead of drawing attention to myself by shutting the door completely, I leave it a crack open.

  A few hours before, Amanda basically told me that she sealed this topic – is it because she knows the partner in Peter’s affair? No way. She and Claire are supposed to be best friends. I remember Claire quickly dismissing my questions about her fuck buddy. Was that guilt? Fear? I’m not sure what Claire is thinking, but now I know it’s time to make my exit.

  I tear into my closet and pull out a small carry on suitcase. Without much attention to what I’m grabbing, I begin shoveling clothes and shoes inside. Once the luggage is mostly full, I head to the bathroom and grab toiletries and stuff them in.

  Before I can leave the apartment, there’s just a few more necessary items. My computer goes into my tote and then I lunge across my bed and grab the photo of my parents to join it. That’s one thing I won’t leave behind. Throwing the travel bag Harris lent me over my shoulder, I exit the apartment as quietly as I can.

  Before the door shuts behind me I hear Claire shout, “Fuck! Me!”

  The words cause an involuntary shiver, but I barrel forward. I don’t stop moving until I reach the lobby.

  Wallace is behind the front desk, and I almost walk by him, when I suddenly remember something Claire told me when I first moved in.

  “Hey, there,” he says eyeing my suitcase and shoulder bags. “Going somewhere?”

  “Um, staying at a friend’s place,” I mumble. Until this moment I hadn’t thought where I could go, but now I’m hoping Sean will take me. “Wallace, I need to ask you something. Did Claire ever...”

  “Almost get me fired?” He grimaces. “Yeah, thankfully her brother talked to the management staff and saved my job. But it was close.” He looks uncomfortable. “She didn’t say that I did anything?”

  “No, no,” I reassure him. “She just...” my words falter. How can I explain in a few words what I’m feeling? “I might be moving out soon.” I finish and give him a shrug.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised. A nice girl like you doesn’t really fit with someone like Claire,” he says ruefully. “Good luck to you.”

  With Claire’s deceit out in the open, I see Wallace in a new shade of friendliness. I wave at him and continue to walk out of the apartment.

  Once I’m a safe block away – in the direction of Sean and Luke’s place – I dial my friend.

  “Hey sugar,” he greets me.

  “Hi,” I say weakly. “Could I take up residence in your guest room tonight?”

  He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask what happened. “Yes. Do you need me to pick you up?”

  Even though the bags weigh me down, I’m not too far from his place, so I elect to walk. Several minutes later, I’m unloading my hastily packed bag in Sean and Luke’s guest room. Luke is at dinner with a friend, so it’s just Sean, sprawled out on the guest bed, while I anxiously pace. I’ve just retold the whole sad story.

  “You know, we’ll have to explain to Luke why you moved in,” he says, frowning at the thought.

  I sigh heavily, biting my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “And what will you tell Harris?”

  “Harris!” I start, realizing that we haven’t spoken in a few hours. I stalk over to the dresser, rifle through my bag, and pull out my phone. He said he would call after his dinner, and he hasn’t yet. I drop it back on top of my bag and cross my arms over my chest protectively.

  “What do I tell him?” I moan. “‘Hey, I moved out of your apartment because your sister was humping her best friend’s husband?’”

  Sean bursts out laughing, covering his eyes with his hand. “Girl, you are in a nasty mess.” He pauses, pondering my predicament. “So, Luke? He will want to know why you moved in with us.”

  “You’re right, we have to tell him. I trust you both,” I say, crawling into the bed and flopping down next to Sean.

  “Don’t you trust Harris?”

  The idea of telling him makes me groan out loud. “Yes, but I can’t tell him over the phone.” I think of my past experiences watching him react to Claire’s antics. He never takes them well. But, despite their arguments, they are close.

  “Why do you look scared?”

  “We just started dating and… what if he accuses me of being jealous or something weird like that?"

  And I think I’m in love with him.

  “We both know that won’t happen. Look, I’m not saying it will be easy, but you don’t want to hide things from him. That’s not a good way to build a relationship.”

  “I know you’re right, and I will tell him. Just not over the phone. I’ll do it in person.”

  “Fair enough. How about Amanda?”

  My stomach flops. Poor Amanda. Trying to work on her marriage with Peter, meanwhile he’s sleeping with her closest friend. Should I tell her? I barely know her, but if it were me, I think that I would want to know. The situation falls out of my realm of expertise, and I desperately want to ask Sarah’s advice.

  “I’m not sure what to do,” I admit.

  “You should start with your boyfriend.” Sean bumps his
shoulder into mine, eliciting a slight smile. “Normally, I would give you advice even if you didn’t want it, but in this situation Harris knows the players better than all of us.”

  “You’re right,” I say, snuggling into the pillows.

  Sean plucks the remote control from the nightstand next to him and turns on the television. “Let’s pause this conversation for now. Bad reality television, here we come.”

  In the morning I jerk awake, leaving behind dreams of Claire having sex with an endless supply of men. They are faceless, behind a gleaming-eyed Claire. My stomach muscles clench at the memories from hours earlier.

  There’s a note on the nightstand from Sean, and a key so I can come and go as I please. Last night, when I told Luke about the sexual liaisons I witnessed, he admitted he had often wondered about Claire and Peter. Lingering looks and touches that Luke observed were just the first clues. Hearing his suspicions made me feel a little better, and a little worse. Better because I’m not launching a major piece of gossip, and worse because the probability of others knowing about Peter’s infidelity is greater.

  With an exaggerated yawn, I climb out of the bed and grab my phone from where I left it on the dresser. I cringe when I notice five missed calls and two voice mails from Harris. There are also several frantic text messages.

  Harris: Where are you?

  Harris: I’m starting to get worried

  Harris: Please call me Edith.

  I immediately dial his number. In Chicago it’s just past seven thirty, so it’s a reasonable hour of eight-thirty in New York. I hope he’s not in a meeting. He answers the phone on the first ring.

  “Edith,” he barks. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  The phone quakes in my hand and then I remember the night of our date, when I ran away to Oak Street beach. Harris lashes out when he is afraid, and this is that reaction.

  “Harris,” I rush to say, “I’m so sorry, I left my ringer off, and I was with Sean.”

  “Why were you with Sean all night?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Condense it,” he snaps. Before I can answer he continues, his tone slightly softer, but still angry. “I called my sister, and she had no clue where you were, either. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

  “I’m not sure I can tell you this over the phone.”

  “Just. Tell. Me.”

  I swallow the lump that suddenly makes an appearance in my throat. “Please, don’t yell at me.”

  There’s silence, and then he exhales heavily. “It was terrifying, not knowing where you were.”

  “I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”

  That seems to appease him. “Look, baby, I need to get back. Please keep your phone on you.”

  “Harris, I miss you so much.” I blurt. Inwardly, my conscious begs me to tell him about his sister, but now isn’t the time. “Can we video chat tonight?”

  “Oh, baby, I miss you too.” He murmurs into the phone. “We can video chat tonight, but just to make it clear, I’m counting down the minutes until I see you again. In the flesh.”

  The last part sends heat straight to the apex of my thighs. Anxiety momentarily forgotten, my body throbs in response, calling out for its own special Harris treatment. The phone clicks, disconnecting the call and I’m left to deal with my raging hormones manually. A few moments later –

  Harris: I get in mid-afternoon tomorrow, and I’m coming straight to get you.

  With thoughts of Claire, Peter and Amanda running rampant in my mind, coupled with images of Harris and I together, I’m not sure how I will make it through the next day without him.

  That night, I lay in Sean’s guest bed, curling my body around my laptop as I wait expectantly for Harris. He rewards my patience, and my computer starts singing with an incoming call.

  “Hi, there,” I say softly when he appears on the screen.

  “Edith...” He looks beat, eyes dull and still wearing his tie, shirt and pants.

  “Don’t you want to undress? You look uncomfortable.”

  “Is my sweet and innocent Edith trying to have cybersex with me?” His tired smile turns mischievous as he strips off his tie and cufflinks.

  “No!” I blush furiously, which is odd considering the things we have done together, and the things I want to do with him. “Just want you to unwind with me.”

  “Speaking of unwinding, where the hell are you?”

  I look over my shoulder, realizing he doesn’t know that I’m not longer staying with Claire. "I’m still at Sean and Luke’s.”

  “Why?”

  His tone is even, but his eyes narrow. He stops undressing, leaving his shirt hanging open to reveal a white undershirt. I can’t help my reaction, my tongue swipes across my lips. Man, I would love to nibble at the top of his chest

  “Edith?”

  “Oh.” The blush returns and I try to clear the lustful thoughts. When I get myself back to the task at hand, I feel my features arrange into a frown. “I don’t think I can live with Claire anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  How do I explain this? “I’d rather be your girlfriend than Claire’s roommate, and I’m not comfortable going back to her apartment after spending the night with you. She and I haven’t discussed it, but I just can’t.”

  It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

  Wrinkles that I didn’t notice before crinkle his forehead. While I study him, he inspects me, too. “But you just moved here. Where will you stay?”

  “With Sean and Luke for now.”

  “Don’t you think you should discuss this with Claire?”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  "I will."

  "When?"

  "This weekend. I'll let her know I'm staying with you, so she doesn't worry."

  Oh, no. What did I just commit to? Then I realize – having the courage to speak your mind.

  "Fair enough." But he looks unconvinced.

  "I want to avoid any negative situations with Claire and focus on us,” I confess. Right now, this is the coward’s way out, but I will tell him the full story when he gets back. I will.

  “What did I do right to be with you?” His eyes search mine, the question stumping him.

  “I feel the same way, Harris,” I breathe.

  “When I get back you’re spending the entire weekend with me.”

  “Yes.”

  In a way, the distance endorses our relationship, because we spend the next two hours talking. We discuss his work, my work, Sarah, and several of his friends that he wants me to meet. It’s a few steps away from being immersed in each others' lives, but we are getting closer and closer to a legitimate couple, that weaves into a singular unit. When we say goodnight, I press a kiss to my fingertips and touch them to his on the screen.

  “Goodnight, exhausted Edith,” he teases.

  “Goodnight, handsome Harris.”

  After I sign off, I grab my phone.

  Eddie: Hi there - wanted to let you know where I am so you don't worry. :) I'm at Sean's tonight and spending the weekend with Harris. Can I see you on Sunday?

  Claire never responds.

  The next morning, I head back to Claire’s apartment to carefully repack my belongings. On Wednesday, I grabbed completely impractical things, and I’ve also got a few loads of laundry that need my attention.

  I’m folding my clothes when Amanda calls.

  “Hi there,” I answer nervously.

  “Good morning, darling!” she trills, her voice decidedly light.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to schedule some more time with you next week. Peter wants to be part of our next meeting. Does Saturday work?”

  She has no idea.

  “Of course. How about an afternoon appointment, say around two?”

  “Perfect! And you’ll have some fabric samples by then?”

  “You bet,” I say listlessly. This whole conversation feels dirty. I know
something that Amanda should know.

  “Bye!”

  Then she’s gone, and I’m left wondering what in the hell I’m doing.

  When Harris alerts me that he’s waiting downstairs I lug a weekend bag, my everyday tote, and his travel Gucci into the elevator. The extra weight slows me down, but as soon as I see him, I’m invigorated. Harris leans against the same car we were in a few days ago. He’s in another one of his expertly tailored suits, this one a dark navy, nearly black.

  I pause, soaking in the sight of him. He’s strength, power, and raw masculinity rolled into one sexually charged package. When his eye meets mine, a slow sensual grin slinks across his face. I drop everything except my tote – I can’t afford to break my laptop – and race toward him. His long legs carry him closer to me with two lengthy strides, and then he’s lifting me up into his arms to give me a smacking kiss.

  “You’re real,” he says, breaking the kiss, but keeping our lips lightly touching as he speaks.

  “So are you.” I break the contact and press my cheek to his, inhaling his citrusy scent. I barely hold back my moan of pleasure.

  He settles me down on my feet, and his grin turns into a look of displeasure.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask quickly.

  Does he know about Claire and Peter?

  “My girlfriend shouldn’t lug bags around like she’s homeless.” He fixes me with a stern look.

  His words hit a very sensitive spot in my gut because, at the moment, I feel like a hopeless wanderer with no place to call home.

  “I asked Claire to chat on Sunday.” She’s just ignoring me.

  “But on the bright side,” he leans down to gently nip at my lower lip. “I get you all to myself this weekend, without any interruptions.”

  Moving to my tiptoes, I nuzzle our noses together. “Then stop wasting time, let’s get this party started.”

  With a quick swat to my ass that leaves me laughing out loud, he picks up my discarded things and deposits them in the trunk.