Love In A Hopeless Place (BWWM Romance)

by Anna Rudolph

  “In terms of my advice, I think you should take some time to yourself. I know you two share a special relationship and this will probably strike you as a great personal loss.” Sonya didn’t like that he sounded condescending, like she had forgotten her role as a professional. She prickled a little. “One of the jobs I included is actually a work-from-home position. It’s actually not an oncology position, so I’m not sure if you'll be interested, but it's a nurse advice call center. Basically taking calls from home, helping people waiting to see their primary care physician. Those get snapped up fast though, so let me know.”

  The idea did appeal to Sonya, she had actually never thought of that. Still, it felt wrong. “I'll let you know,” she parroted. There was a pause, she wondered if the email was the only reason Collins had called.

  “How's Ray?” His words were tentative, they both knew what he was really asking.

  “He's…comfortable,” she said. “Actually, he just told me he thinks his time is coming.” Her throat swelled but her tone was level.

  “I'm honestly surprised he made it this long.” He was so casual, it angered Sonya. She knew that she was being over critical. This was a man that dealt with death every single day, it would only be natural that he could be emotionally passive towards the subject. She couldn't form words, the silence dragged on until the doctor asked, “How are you holding up?”

  Before she could reply, a steady, high-pitched whine sounded from Ray’s room. The blood rushed in her ears, the world seemed to spin around her. “Dr. Collins, I've got to go.” She hung up without waiting for a reply, hoping the urgency in her voice would excuse her rudeness.

  No, no, no. The word caught up in the cyclone of panic wrecking havoc in her mind. She bust through the door and world seemed to fall out from under her. The whine continued, Ray’s heart rate monitor showed a flat, motionless line.

  He was gone.

  *****

  Sonya tapped the screen on her phone, ending yet another phone call. She dropped her head into her hands, massaging her scalp with the tips of her fingers. The rough texture of her natural hair escaping the base of her braids ground into her skin and she hardly noticed.

  The day felt as though it had lasted a hundred years. Ray passed in the early afternoon. Sonya had unplugged the machines once the shock faded and the alarm became unbearable. She slowly removed his IV needles, slid the oxygen tubes out of his nose and over his head. He'd slumped forward when she did it and the sight of his limp neck sent a dagger through her gut. She'd sat back in the chair. She couldn't take her gaze away from him. He seemed smaller somehow, he was already so thin. He looked almost naked without all his tubes.

  Maricelle had poked her head in the door, her face knowing and sad. She must've heard the beeping earlier. Sonya appreciated her giving Sonya some time with him first.

  It was a blur after that. Maricelle fetched Philip from his office. He stumbled into the room, out of breath. He had obviously hurried across the house. Shock and desperation were written clearly all over his face, white as a sheet. His eyes begged Sonya to say it wasn't true, but all she could do was solemnly nod as tears escaped her dark eyes. He'd dropped to his knees, roughly grabbed Ray's hand, and his body shook as he sobbed.

  After his initial release, Sonya had reached to comfort him. He had fallen into her arms. She cradled his large frame, silently crying as he lay in her arms. It was strange, after a while she just felt numb. Numb to Philip, numb to the world. She asked if she could do anything to help, hoping to sound friendly. He'd asked for her help calling friends and relatives. He said he didn't think he could handle saying it out loud and listening to everyone's condolences, so he'd go to his study and arrange the funeral. After one final heart shattering look at his father’s peaceful body, he'd turned and strode out of the room. Sonya had seen him brush a tear away as he walked.

  Though she was exhausted, the sun barely dipped behind the horizon. Golden evening light poured through her window. Her distraught heart resented the lovely glow, how dare anything be this beautiful that Ray would never see.

  She pencilled a tiny check next to the most recent call she had made, to some old work colleague who seemed genuinely distressed at the passing of “one of the best men he'd ever known.” He'd also asked to pass his regards along to Philip. She's gotten a lot of those. She wondered how he was holding up, wanting desperately to go to him but held herself back. Their relationship had barely started; however ,due to the unique nature of its beginning, she wasn't sure whether she would be overstepping her boundaries. After all, he still had one paycheck of hers to sign, she thought bitterly.

  She sought the next number in Ray's beaten black leather address book, struggling to make out his sloppy handwriting. She put the phone to her ear, the dial tone mocking her as she mentally prepared to tell another stranger that someone they loved, someone she loved, had died. She was dreading the funeral more and more with each tearful call.

  Chapter 8

  The morning of the funeral dawned behind a cover of clouds. The air was thick with misty precipitation, the sky a dreary gray that seemed to fit the mood perfectly. The long driveway was packed with cars, the rundown station wagons and SUVs looked out of place in front of the immaculate house. The dining set had been cleared away, neat rows of empty plastic chairs lined the spacious room. The coffin stood, lonely but proud, in front of the room. Dim, cool light from the window lit it from behind. The sleek reddish wood was topped with an elaborate arrangement of flowers.

  The funeral had been beautiful, or at least as beautiful as a funeral can ever be. Relatives and friends had turned out from all over the country to mourn the loss of Ray. Sonya and Philip had worked together all week, their affections on the back burner, to pull together a service worthy of the man they both adored so much. She’d helped him write his eulogy, held his hand throughout the service, and generally worried that she may be falling dangerously in love with him. They hadn’t kissed since their date five days ago. Though she was drowning in grief for Ray, this fact still preoccupied her. His apparent lack of interest in her as anything other than a support system was very disheartening and she was happy to be moving out of this big, cold house tomorrow.

  After the service, and several tear evoking speeches, the black-clad attendees were shepherded into the kitchen where hors d'oeuvres were served with champagne. Quiet, conservative music played from somewhere Sonya couldn’t identify as she milled about. She snagged a cracker topped with a rich cream cheese salmon spread. Ferne had catered the event, and she usually swooned over his recipes, but she could’ve been eating cardboard for all she cared. She’d had no appetite all week but was in the dregs of her second glass of bubbly and figured she should eat something.

  Soon after swallowing, she made eye contact with Philip across the room. His classic black suit and the dark, silvery charcoal shirt he wore underneath were tailored flawlessly to his long, lithe frame. Dark shadows flanked his sad golden eyes, even exhausted and grieving he was breathtaking. He was chatting with an elderly woman with cropped silver hair, whose shoulder he patted as he promptly ended the conversation. Sonya’s stomach flipped when she realized he was making his way towards her. She fixed the long sleeves on her collared black dress and fiddled nervously with her braids.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  The concern and affection in his face softened her a little. “Fine,” she answered vaguely.

  “Can I talk to you?” He looked upset.

  Sonya’s heart began hammering against the inside of her chest. “Um, yeah, sure.” She stumbled over her words and followed his lead as he turned and strode towards the hallway to his office. Her thoughts whirred around inside her skull, what woman wants to hear that question from a man they like? What could he want to talk about? She scurried behind him, eyes glued to the phenomenal cut of his suit across his wide shoulders as they swayed with each of his long steps.

  Philip pushed open the heavy door to his office, stood back a
nd gestured for her to enter before him. His polite, not-so-familiar demeanor wasn’t a good sign, and Sonya was a tightly bound coil of nerves. He closed the door behind him and she readied herself for an awkward break up conversation. Guess I should have anticipated this, she thought.

  However, no breakup conversation came. With an aggression she had never experienced, Philip practically pounced on her. His hungry lips sought hers, his greedy tongue sliding between her thick lips. Sonya was almost as surprised as she was thrilled. Their awkwardly abstinent week was coming to an end. He cupped her full bottom in one hand, frantically throwing chairs out of his way as he pushed her back and up onto his desk. His solid body was warm against her as he pushed up between her legs. The familiar position stoked the fire in Sonya’s core, she was desperate for him. The primal drive guided her hands through his hair, he broke the kiss to trail his lips down her jaw. She couldn’t help a small, passionate moan as he brought his mouth to her neck and gently sucked on her sensitive skin. She wrapped him tightly with her legs, he was already hard and the pressure against her hot, excited center was divine.

  “I’m sorry.” He pulled away. “This is all I’ve been able to think about.”

  His golden eyes flashed with a primal zeal, his starved look thrilled Sonya.

  “Thank god I’m not the only one,” she purred, pulling his mouth back to hers.

  As they kissed, Philip struggled to shed his jacket but never pulled away. Once he was free, he cupped her breasts, gently squeezing and teasing her. Sonya whimpered against his mouth, weak with raw desire. She fumbled for his belt buckle, eager to see and feel him in the most intimate way she could. There was a small clink as she released the leather strap, his silky slacks slid down to the floor. His hearty erection strained against the smooth spandex of his boxers and the sight of it made her insides pulse. Before she could start to undo his shirt buttons, he slipped his hands under her skirt, working the soft cotton over her head. She helped him pull it over, happy to free of the hot, constricting garment. She slid off the desk and closer to him, for just a moment to wiggle out of her panties. As they dropped to the floor, Philip abandoned his boxers. One hand under her rear, the other tightly gripping the back of her head, he lifted her back up. His impressive cock was rock hard and gently nudged the entrance to her sex. The head brushed her swollen clitoris, sending a shockwave all the way down to her toes.

  He hesitated only a moment, briefly meeting her eyes with a questioning look. He was waiting for her consent, his respect made her feel cherished and safe in his arms. She gave him a tiny nod and pressed her warm, wet crease against his rigid member.

  He took her eagerly. She cried out as he entered her, his thick shaft rubbed her insides in just the right way. His breath was heavy in her ear, he pressed his forehead against hers as he thrust into her. He eventually worked his impressive package into her to the hilt. She was overwhelmed; both with the incredible intimacy and comfort she felt with his touch and with the sheer physical bliss spreading to each and every nerve in her body. It had been too long since she had been touched this way, and she was happy to have waited. Any length of time would be worth waiting for something like that.

  Philip unsnapped her bra, freeing her breasts. She felt the heavy organs bounce as he laid her back horizontally on his pristine desk. Her nipples were hardened, and he gave a deep, sexy groan as he fondled her. The extra stimulation threatened to send her right over the edge, her ecstatic moans only encouraging him. He leaned over her sprawled body to kiss her, the starched fabric was rough against her naked, inflamed skin. Sonya ran her hands up his sculpted arms, his rounded shoulders and biceps taut under her grasp. His wide torso loomed over her, a look of primal lust on his face. His rhythmic thrusts were punctuated with his pleasured grunts. Philip began to pick up the pace; his heavy balls smacked against her as he kept drilling in between her legs. Sonya’s cries became increasingly desperate, she felt herself coming to a climax. He was about to send her right over the edge.

  He pulled gently on her braids, pulling her chin up to expose her neck. He gave her a rough kiss on her neck and finally sent her over the edge. He growled in her ear, “Oh god, I’ve never felt anything so good.” Sonya relished in his labored breath in her ear as she came completely undone. She was vaguely aware that she should probably limit the noise, considering an entire funeral reception was taking place on the other side of the wall, but she didn’t care. Wave after wave of natural ecstasy crashed over her, she felt her core squeeze tight around his stiff cock. He began to throb, doubling the sensation as he gave one final groan and pumped his orgasm into her.

  Philip leaned heavily over her, struggling to catch his breath.

  The pair gently separated. As Philip stepped away from Sonya, he brushed his fingers down the back of her arm. His gentle touch raised goose bumps on her skin. There was affection in his eyes, in his smile.

  And suddenly it was gone.

  His doe-eyed grin simply dissolved before her eyes. It was as though someone had flicked a switch in his head and maybe his heart. Sonya was stricken, feeling like she’d been slapped. He hadn’t said a word, and he didn’t need too. She brought her legs together, cupping her breasts in her arms. How had she let this happen, was she that easy?

  Philip cast his eyes to the floor, his expression sullen and distant. He abruptly yanked up his slacks, focused hard on his belt buckle as he situated himself. Sonya stumbled awkwardly off the desk and around the office, trying to remain covered as she hunted for her dress and under things.

  Covering herself was a wasted effort, Philip didn’t look up once.

  Once she was dressed and less vulnerable, Sonya mustered what dignity she could and stood up straight, smoothing down her skirt. “Well, that was fun,” she snapped, her tone was bone dry.

  “Yeah,” he said vaguely, still staring at the floor.

  Sonya took a deep breath, his instant rejection left her embarrassed and wounded. She made her move to walk past him, out of the office.

  He reached a long arm out, gently restraining her at her waist. She turned to him, hoping to hold back her enraged tears as she glared at him.

  He was silent a moment, his eyes closed. Slowly, he lifted his head, opened his eyes, shiny with tears. “I’m sorry,” he choked.

  “What is there to be sorry about?” Sonya hoped to look defiant, but guessed she looked pathetic.

  “I know why you’re upset. I didn’t mean to shut down like that,” he explained, his words a rush. “I’m just so overwhelmed, so many things are changing. My father’s gone, I’ve got so much to catch up on with work and no motivation to do any of it. Plus, God, you’ll be gone!” Sonya was shocked by the exasperation in his voice, too stunned to speak. “It’s like you were this…ghost in my life for the last six months. At first I hated having you here, what man wants to live with a stranger? But the longer you’ve been here, the more comfortable it’s gotten. Especially in these last few weeks. I love and appreciate the way you were with my father.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said, wary. She could sense there was a ‘but’ coming.

  “But,” there it was, “I’m scared. I’m scared once you walk out that door, back to your own life, that you’ll never come back. I want you to stay.” He began to sound desperate, almost manic.

  It was Sonya’s turn to withdraw. Sure, they’d known each other a long time, but only romantically for less than a week. And he was talking about her living there? She couldn’t believe it. His morose eyes struck a chord in her, she really did feel for him, but this was too much. It dawned on her then that his behavior probably had nothing to do with her. He was scared of an empty house, not because of her, because of Ray. He was seeking love and solace in his grief, she thought, he probably didn’t care for anything about her. She felt sick.

  “Look, Philip,” she sighed. “I think we need some time. Don’t get me wrong.” She cut him off when he made a move to interrupt. “I feel for you, very deeply. But I’m worried
there might be a little transference happening here. I don’t want us to rush into something based on raw emotion, especially following a loss like this.” She took a deep, ragged breath and repeated, “I think we need some time.”

  Philip nodded, still looking tortured. “How much time?” he asked, voice hoarse.

  Sonya wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to be away from him either, but could acknowledge that this dependency probably wouldn’t be good for a new and budding relationship. How long was enough? “Let’s give it… A week. If we’re still feeling this way in a week, we can reassess what to do.” After a week of mourning Ray, her heart already felt bruised and the uncomfortable conversation prodded at the wound.

  “Alright, a week,” Philip said bleakly. With that he turned, adjusting his jacket as he opened the door and strode out of the office. His eyes passed just over Sonya’s head, avoiding contact with her eyes. The gesture stung, but Sonya didn’t blame him. He was right, he was dealing with a lot. She knew this choice was for the best.

  Sonya waited a beat for Philip to find his way back to the party. She swallowed the lump in her throat and walked out of the room, down the hall, and through the party. Without a single goodbye, she left through the front door, got in her car, and drove away. She craved the solitude of her dark lonely old apartment and couldn’t wait to get home.

  *****

  “Allie,” Sonya whined, her tone miserable.

  “I know, love.” Allie’s face was sympathetic.

  Sonya lay sprawled on her stomach on Allie’s bed. They’d done some damage on a bottle of white wine and her head felt fuzzy. Allie’s brightly patterned bedspread, all the happy colors swirling about, was mocking her. It had been two days since she’d walked out of the mini-mansion. Two days since she had last heard Philip’s voice; yet it felt so much longer, a long and miserable lifetime.