“You feel so good,” he groaned as he filled me completely. Slowly, he thrust in and out of me. I was in pure ecstasy as everything tightened. His long, hard strokes took me to the edge and I was panting. I heard his breathing become heavier which only spurred me on. I got wetter with each stroke and when he started to thrust faster, I couldn’t take it. It felt so good. I started to claw at the back of his shirt as I felt myself succumbing to the carnal pleasure.
The fluttering deep within me was strong and pulsated through my entire body. My moaning became loud grunting as he hit my g-spot. My eyes opened and locked with his for a brief second before they rolled into the back of my head. My climax was all consuming as my limbs locked up. Repeatedly jabbing at the deepest part of me caused me to black out momentarily.
When I came to, both of us were rhythmically thrusting into each other; sweat forming on our bodies. His mouth came down on my nipple and he sucked hard. Alternating between breasts, Ty begged in a low growl, “Give it to me again.”
Ty’s words caused me to clench, which in turn, caused him to start thrusting more frantically. His labored breathing matched mine. I could tell he was close to the edge as the pressure was building for the both of us. It didn’t take long before I reached my orgasm. I clenched, quivering around him and milking him as the carnal desire spread from deep within me.
My orgasm triggered his and I felt him still, finding his own release. After Ty leaned forward to kiss me, he slowly pulled out of me and lay down on the floor.
Sex when you’re fighting is so hot, I thought with a satisfied sigh. We both laid there for a minute not talking.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave. I can’t get enough of you, baby girl,” Ty chuckled lightly. “Thank you for considering moving in.”
I froze as the high of my orgasms wore off and reality set back in.
Chapter 26
Three Weeks Later
Sahara Lee: I purchased my plane ticket this afternoon. I’m coming in on December 27th. Don’t be mad. Love you!
Emily Mills: I’m not surprised. When I asked you last week, you were super evasive. We’ll have fun regardless of when you come in. See you in less than a week! Love you too!
I tucked my phone back into my black Michael Kors handbag and walked through the door to Dr. Summers’ office.
“Hi, how are you?” I greeted Dr. Summers as she waved me through the lobby area to the hallway.
“I’m well. How are you?” Dr. Summers replied. I followed her into her office and we took our seats.
“I’m glad to be off until the new year,” I smiled as I removed my Italian leather gloves.
Opening her notebook, Dr. Summers crossed her legs and gave me a thoughtful look. “Your eyes are red.”
“Yeah… Just frustrated, I guess.”
“It appears you have been crying.” Dr. Summers looked at me intently, waiting for me to tell her what she already knew.
I closed my eyes and nodded. The quiet of the room settled and when I opened my eyes, Dr. Summers watched me patiently. As the silence stretched between us, she sat her notepad down and placed her hands in her lap. I didn’t want her to think I was being defiant; however, I didn’t know where to begin. It’s been a rough couple of days, I thought as I fidgeted in my seat.
Dr. Summers must have sensed something was off because she leaned forward and asked, “What exactly is going on?”
“I’m really anxious about the trip to Thomasville. I’m excited about Emily’s wedding. I’m so happy for her. But with each passing day, I get… I mean, it’s going to be… I don’t know… I just don’t know if I’m ready to see him. I… I don’t…” My sentence trailed off because I didn’t know how to put how I was feeling into words. Or at least, I didn’t know how to put how I was feeling into words that Dr. Summers would understand.
“I’m hearing two different emotions right now. Let’s flesh out one and then the other. You were crying because you were frustrated. What were you frustrated about?”
I closed my eyes tightly and sighed. “Ty and I got into an argument before he left this morning.”
“What was it about?” She asked the question in a tone that let me know she already knew what it was about.
The same thing that we argued about two weeks ago…and the week before that, I thought as I shook my head and rolled my watery eyes.
Dabbing at the corners of my eyes, I admit, “The same thing I told you about last week. He wants me to move in with him.”
“What specifically happened?” Dr. Summers asked, picking her notepad back up and flipping back a couple of pages.
“We had the same argument about me moving to Richland. And I think he’s still mad about Thanksgiving.”
She glanced down at her paper before clarifying, “Because he was late to the Thanksgiving event at his restaurant?”
“Yes. I think he blames me. He didn’t say that, but whenever we talk about Jimmy’s he gives me a look. And our vibe has been off since then.”
“Do you blame yourself?”
I was quiet for a minute while I gave the question some thought. The rational part of me doesn’t. The rational part of me knows that it wasn’t my fault that he lost a bid for an exclusive vendor because he was late. But a small part of me feels like he wouldn’t have lost out on the bid if he wouldn’t have been in Bakersfield. “No. I mean, I feel bad, but I know that it wasn’t my fault. A small part of me does feel like if he wasn’t with me, it wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t even know he was coming. If anything, he should’ve been there the night before like we had planned and then he would’ve left in the morning. On time!”
“If it is your belief that he blames you, how does that make you feel?” Dr. Summers repeated.
“Hurt.” I paused before I continued, “Hurt may not be the right word, but I feel…I don’t know how to describe it.”
Leaning forward and giving me an encouraging nod, “Can you try to explain it?”
My eyes flitted across the room before landing on the candle’s flickering flame. I glanced at Dr. Summers and then back at the candle. “I don’t know. I just… long distance relationships are hard. And I can’t take the way he looks at me sometimes.” I squeezed my eyes shut before making eye contact with her again. “It’s like he thinks I am trying to hurt him on purpose or something.”
“Did he say that or are you projecting your own feelings onto him?” Dr. Summers leaned back and jotted a quick note on her paper.
“He didn’t say it like that but he said that our relationship isn’t going to work if we aren’t both in Richland. Jimmy’s is important to him and I’ve known that since I met him. But I can’t uproot my life right now. I’m not ready and he doesn’t seem to understand that. When we were together before, we worked well. I guess because we pretty much lived together. But now that we don’t even live in the same state, things are harder. And he blames me for that. He thinks it’s a simple resolution and questions the validity of my reasons for not moving in with him. Every time he is here and something goes wrong there, he blames himself in a way that makes it seem like he blames me too. ”
“Why won’t you move in with him?” Dr. Summers asked, jotting another note down.
“Because of my life here. My sessions with you. My job. I’m in a better place emotionally than I’ve been since the accident,” I answered honestly. I got chills as I said it; however, my voice never wavered.
“And that right there is all the validity you need.” Her voice was clear and all-knowing.
I reflected on her statement in silence. She’s right. I know how I feel. I know that moving now isn’t what I need right now. If I decide to move, it needs to be on my own time when I’m ready, I thought, empowered.
Putting her notepad down, Dr. Summers scooted to the edge of her seat. “I want to try an exercise with you. But first, I need you relaxed. Close your eyes.” I closed my eyes and waited. “I want you to breathe deeply. Inhale and exhale to expand your chest. Re
lax your body. Relax your mind. That’s it.”
I felt relaxed and a sense of calm settled over me. My heart rate slowed in my tranquil state. The silence was broken by Dr. Summers’ soothing voice. “I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer yes or no immediately and with no hesitation.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, my eyes still closed.
“Did your frustration stem from your argument with Tyree?
“Yes.”
“Do you miss living with Tyree?”
“Yes.”
“Do you blame yourself for not living with him right now?”
“No.”
“Do you blame him for wanting you to move in with him?”
“No.”
“Did your argument with him end with you questioning your relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to end your relationship with Tyree?”
“No.”
“Do you think he wants to end the relationship?”
“No.”
“Do you believe he will end the relationship if you don’t move in with him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have plans to move in with him at this time?”
“No.”
“Do you love Tyree?”
“Yes.”
“Does Tyree love you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel anxious about going to Thomasville next week?
“Yes.”
“Are you feeling anxious about seeing Emanuel?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think your anxiety could stem from unresolved feelings?”
Yes, I thought as I verbalized, “I don’t want to do this anymore. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay. But I want to talk to you about Emanuel because it seems as though your anxiety about this upcoming trip stems from your feelings for him.”
I blinked and looked at her blankly in response because I didn’t know what to say. Dr. Summers continued, “I’ve noticed in your journal entries, you seemed to go out of your way to avoid mentioning Emanuel.”
“Okay,” I responded slowly.
“In our sessions, he makes explicit and implicit appearances. And with your upcoming trip to Thomasville, I’m interested in knowing what your thoughts are.”
“Emanuel is the brother of the bride and a groomsman. He will be there. I haven’t given it much thought beyond that,” I lied to Dr. Summers.
Dr. Summers looked at me sternly and put her notepad down. “You are in a safe space, Sahara. Honesty with yourself and others is the only way to heal. So again, what are your thoughts about seeing Emanuel?”
I sighed deeply and my body sagged a bit in my chair. “I’m sorry,” I apologized and covered my face with my hands. “I’ve tried not to think about him. But as the wedding day has drawn closer, it’s all I think about.”
“Why do you avoid writing your thoughts and feelings? That’s what your journal is for. To help you process.”
“I don’t want to process my feelings for Emanuel. If I’m honest, part of me wants to hold on to how I feel. The other part of me wants to deny that they exist.”
“And why is that?” Dr. Summers seemed to ask the question more for my benefit than for her own.
“Because I’m with Ty. I love Ty and I don’t want to hurt him. It feels wrong to write about feelings for one man when I am in a relationship with another.” My eyes filled with tears that I readily blinked away. “I made a decision and I am respecting the decision I made.”
“Do you think you made the right decision?”
“Yes,” I quickly answered. “Ty is perfect for me. He makes me feel strong.”
“And Emanuel?” Dr. Summers poised her pen above her paper and awaited my response.
“Emanuel is…Emanuel.” My eyes filled with tears again and I was unable to stop them from dropping. I swiped at my eyes quickly. “Ty is like the gorgeous dress you find while window shopping when you weren’t looking to buy anything. You saw it, fell in love with it and you had to have it. It is perfect and everything about it suits you. And Emanuel is like the dress you saved up for a long time to buy. You saw it, fell in love with it, and had to save up money to purchase it. You had to wait and when you finally get it, it’s your favorite item in your closet. Delayed gratification…but so worth it.”
“I believe I understand,” Dr. Summers said with a smile. “Now with you having some distance between you and them, your feelings appear to be compartmentalized. But as you know, life is messy. How will you handle yourself in Thomasville when you are in close quarters with both Tyree and Emanuel?”
“I don’t know. I’m worried about everything. Are my feelings for Emanuel going to come flooding back when I see him? Is my presence going to bring unnecessary drama to Emily’s big day? Are Ty and Emanuel going to be civil? Is Emanuel bringing Ashlyn to the wedding? Does Emanuel hate me?”
“Instead of worrying about what they will do or say or how they will act, figure out your own thoughts and feelings. Remember, the only variable you can control is you.”
The rest of the session flew by with me sitting in silent reflection and dutifully answering questions. I felt increasingly nervous and when our time was up, I felt like crying. Her words replayed in my mind over and over again, but I couldn’t shake the unease. The only thing I can control is me, I thought as I pulled on my coat. I dropped my glove on the carpet twice before I noticed Dr. Summers sitting on the edge of her desk watching me.
“You have my emergency cell number, don’t you?” she asked with kind eyes.
“Yes, thank you.” I stood up frazzled and buttoned my coat quickly.
“I don’t know,” I offered quietly as I finally managed to wiggle my fingers into the leather gloves. “Just nervous I guess.”
“About?” Dr. Summer asked as she followed me out of her office and into the lobby area.
I was quiet until I got to the front door. With a hand on the handle, I glanced at Dr. Summers over my shoulder. “Life.”
“Sometimes the questions are complicated, but the answers are simple,” Dr. Summers said gently.
Chapter 27
“Merry Christmas,” I murmured as I lit the personalized memory candle at midnight.
I spent Christmas Eve alone, per usual. Christmas Eve was always a celebration that my dad and I always did together. Christmas Day was a celebration that we celebrated with the Mills family. But with Dad’s death, Christmas Eve was always spent alone. And even though I was talking to Emily and her parents regularly, I didn’t want to spend Christmas with them. Especially since I hadn’t talked to Emanuel since he found out he was going to be a father almost four months ago. Since the accident, I planned to spend every major holiday alone except Valentine’s Day. And this year was no exception, I thought as I curled up on the couch in the living room.
I turned down the request of Mr. and Mrs. Mills to spend Christmas Eve and Day with them. I declined Emily’s request to spend the Christmas holiday with her and Anthony. I refused Deborah and Ben’s offer to spend Christmas with their family. And as charming as the invitation was, I didn’t take Ty’s offer to spend Christmas Eve with him. We argued about it but ultimately, I thought being alone was what I wanted and what I needed. I missed my father all the time, but Christmas was our time of year. And spending Christmas—especially Christmas Eve—with someone else felt wrong. But as the day wore on, I acknowledged that things were different this year.
Sitting in the living room, the soft glow of the candles dimly lit the room as music played through the speakers. The box of tissues that were on the other end of the couch fell to the floor as I stretched my legs out. The minor movement was enough to awaken my empty stomach. I didn’t cook. I didn’t eat. I didn’t do anything but cry. I cried for my father. I cried for my mother. I cried for the life I used to have. I cried for the life I was meant to have. I cried for the life I was living. I cried for the lives I’d negatively affected. I cried
myself to sleep, woke up, and cried again. I didn’t reach out to anyone because I didn’t want to ruin their holiday. But it was in the final minutes of Christmas Eve that everything clicked. This isn’t just loneliness, I realized after a day of self-reflection. This is punishment. I rejected the offers to spend the holidays with others to punish myself. I thought I had come so far, but clearly not. I’m still punishing myself. What did Dr. Summers say? I need to figure out what I want. And what I want is to forgive myself.
The song switched and my phone rang simultaneously. Reaching over for my phone, my black T-shirt rode up, exposing my belly. Pulling the shirt down to meet the top of my plum colored leggings, I hit the answer button.
“Merry Christmas,” Ty chirped merrily once I picked up the phone.
The last time we spoke, he was frustrated with my decision to spend the holidays alone. So I hesitated before responding. “Merry Christmas,” I replied slowly, but with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
“What’s wrong baby girl?” The concern in his voice wrapped its way around my heart and squeezed. I didn’t think my sore eyes could muster any more tears; nonetheless, my eyes watered instantly.
“I’m tired.” My half-truth rolled off my tongue thickly. I turned on my side and the pulled the blanket over my shoulders as I held the phone to my ear.
“Hmmm,” Ty grumbled as if he didn’t believe me. “Did you get the package I sent you?”
“No, what package?” I asked, intrigued.
“I asked for it to be delivered directly to your door so you didn’t have to leave and you’d get it as soon as Christmas Day hit.”
“They didn’t call or anything. I’ve been in the living room all day and night.” I pushed the blanket from my body and sat up.
“They probably didn’t want to disturb you,” he rationalized.
“Yeah, I guess. But they didn’t call or anything. What is it?” I asked, a small smile gracing my face for the first time in at least 24 hours. Sliding on my slippers, I walked stiffly to the door and opened it.
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