Holding My Breath

by A. M. Hartnett

  Molly read until her eyes itched. There were stories of women like her who just happened to date men who sold sex, frank FAQs from current and former ‘companions’, as many liked to be called, and lengthy discussions on the topic of dating someone who sold themself. She ignored the judgmental remarks left in comment sections and was comforted in knowing that she wasn’t alone.

  Yet she knew that if Quinn told her he’d changed his mind and decided to keep working, she wouldn’t be able to hack it. Regardless of the solace she found online, the fact that she couldn’t hold onto it as soon as she knew Quinn was doing what he did at her hotel made her crazy.

  And so she went back to cleaning, back to grinding her teeth and stomping around her house, and waited for her phone to chime with his message that he was on his way.

  Scot’s ears pricked and he swivelled his head towards the window overlooking the back yard, and Molly’s spirits sank even lower.

  ‘You see a raccoon out there?’ she asked him, but knew that’s not what he had spied.

  Scot didn’t give a fuck about anything that happened outdoors. When he paid attention, when he sat up like he did and made that rattling sound that was supposed to be a meow, it meant that Aaron was here.

  ‘This is the last fucking thing I need right now.’

  She waited for his knock, because of course even after all this time he refused to use anything but the back door. After a few moments of silence, she moved to the aluminium door and drew the curtain aside.

  The door to the shed was open. He didn’t use his key to get into the house – at least he respected her space that much – but the shed was a whole other story.

  There was nothing of hers in there, and Aaron simply refused to relinquish ownership of the shed. She supposed that he was being bratty on some level, but for the most part it was just because he had loved his shed and when he moved into his apartment he probably missed it more than he missed Molly.

  She pulled on the parka that hung at the back door, slipped her feet into her boots and followed the blink of a flashlight to the little shelter.

  ‘Hey, you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’ she called out, then raised her hand in front of her face as he yelped and turned the beam on her.

  ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ he exclaimed a little breathlessly. He lowered the torch, but she could still see him in the glow of the outside light.

  At least he hasn’t put on any more weight, she thought, but the beard still has to go.

  These were thoughts she kept to herself. She’d tried on the bitchy-ex-wife hat once or twice but she only ended up more infuriated with herself than with Aaron. It was enough of a struggle to talk to him, let alone exert herself to trying to squash him.

  Besides, it’s not like he deserved to be treated like a shit. He hadn’t cheated. He hadn’t beaten her. He hadn’t run off with her money. He’d just been the first to leave.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘I had a rubber bin full of hockey gear I left in here,’ he said. ‘You didn’t throw it out, did you?’

  ‘How can I throw it out? You’re the one with the key to the shed.’ She followed the path of the flashlight beam as it darted from one end of the shed to another. ‘What colour is it?’

  ‘You can’t miss it. It’s blue and it’s huge.’

  Molly pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She knew where it was. She just didn’t want him to know.

  Aaron ran his hands through his brown hair, leaving it standing at attention as he took a second look. ‘I could have sworn I put it in here.’

  ‘Why do you want it, anyway?’

  ‘I joined the team again.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you’d quit.’

  ‘I wasn’t in the mood to play after I moved out,’ he said, and thankfully kept his eyes on his search.

  There had been a time or two when he’d say something like that and then he’d give her a hopeful look, as if life was a movie and what had broken between them could be magically fixed with sentiment. Aaron had been the one who had initiated the separation, but he had also been the one to have regrets. He’d come back, but she wouldn’t force herself to feel something she knew was gone for ever.

  She didn’t know whether he’d accepted how irreparable things were or if he just gave up. Either way, she was grateful for his surrender. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about wounding him every time he popped up.

  He sighed. ‘It’ll cost a fortune to replace it. Could it be in the basement?’

  Molly thought about letting him root around the basement on a futile search, but when he didn’t find his hockey gear wedged between boxes of Christmas decorations and a rusty file cabinet filled with old tax papers, he’d want to search the attic, and she’d let him do it. He could be there until midnight, and then she’d be desperate to get him out before Quinn arrived.

  If she just told him where his hockey gear was, she could have him out in fifteen minutes.

  She sucked in a deep breath. ‘Did you say it was red or blue?’

  ‘Blue.’

  ‘I think I know where it is,’ she said, and dug her hands deep into her parka as resignation did a slow crawl through her. ‘Come in and wait in the kitchen and I’ll dig it out.’

  She turned around and left him behind to lock up his shed. The closer she got to Natalie’s room, the more pissed she got. She left her parka and boots on and stomped down the hall. She didn’t pay the usual reverence to her entry. She charged in like someone was holding a shotgun to the centre of her back and quickly manoeuvred herself to the pile of plastic bins beneath the trio of colourful hot-air balloon decals she’d ordered off the Internet.

  Less than a minute later, Aaron appeared on the threshold. ‘I can get it.’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ she said through her teeth. His hockey gear was in the biggest bin, and therefore at the bottom. It had never been in the shed. He had kept it in the hall closet by the front door, and she’d dragged it in here when she got tired of looking at it.

  Now she admonished herself angrily for not calling him to come and get it.

  Too little, too late. For now, she just wanted him on the other side of the threshold.

  There was no lifting the bin on her own. She’d have to slide it out just like she’d slid it in, and to do that she’d have to make a path.

  ‘Can you come back tomorrow?’ she asked and planted her hands on her hips. If she couldn’t get it out herself, she’d suck it up and ask Quinn to come into the room with her and lift it out.

  Aaron scowled and shook his head. His irritation showed in the ruddy marks blooming on his face. ‘For fuck’s sake, it’s my gear, I’m coming in for it.’

  She wanted to push him out, just throw her hands up and shove against his barrel-like chest and thrust him from the space, but he was already inside. She could do nothing but cringe as he knocked things askew, then stand aside as he leaned down and picked up the bin like it was filled with feathers.

  He dropped it in the hall with a grunt. His naturally affable expression had turned surly as he gave the bin a nudge. ‘I’ll be lucky if I fit in any of my gear.’

  Molly closed the door behind her and bit back her retort. ‘Anything else you need before you take off?’

  ‘If there is, I’ll come back and get it.’

  His testy tone was as sharp as hers. Molly rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands back in her pockets.

  ‘You could have the shed hauled somewhere else.’

  ‘Where the fuck am I supposed to haul it? I can’t buy a new place while I’m still paying for this one.’

  ‘You’re not paying for this place. I’m paying for this place. I pay the bills, the mortgage payments, the –’

  ‘I’m living in a two-bedroom apartment with a view of someone else’s back yard while all my money is in this place – and don’t bullshit me, I know you’re paying the bills with the credit cards and you’re almost maxed out.’ He spoke evenly, but a
knock on the wall in front of him put an exclamation point on his words. ‘You want me to haul the shed? I need a place to haul it to.’

  She hated to bite, but it was too damn hard not to, and adding to her irritation was Scot rubbing himself against Aaron’s calves, the traitor.

  ‘You want me to move out so you can live here? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘You know what I want, but you’re too damn stubborn,’ he snapped, then pressed his lips together and held his hands up. ‘I’m not doing this. I just want my gear.’

  ‘Well, you have it, now …’ She swept her arm towards the foyer.

  It would have been easier for him to slide the bin along the floor, but he’d always been fussy about the laminate he and his buddies had laid themselves, so he picked up the bin and made it to the front door this time before Scot tripped him up.

  His exit was going to take for ever at this rate, she thought, and scooped up the cat to keep him out of Aaron’s way. Sweat had appeared on his brow and he wheezed a little as he flexed his fingers.

  She was about to offer him a drink when he did a double-take towards the closet. At first she wasn’t sure what he had honed in on, and then she realised that Quinn’s running shoes and gym bag had found a home there. It had been her suggestion and he’d seized it so he could keep up his cardio routine while he was at Molly’s, something that was becoming more and more frequent.

  Her lover was settling in, and her ex-husband was looking at proof that he had finally been displaced.

  The surprise faded and he gave his head a little shake before meeting her gaze. She didn’t look away. She’d experienced the same cold shock nine months ago when she’d heard through friends that Aaron had given online dating a try. Like Aaron had just now, she had brushed it off, reasoning that their marriage was over, even if they were still locked in separation hell when it came to the legal stuff.

  He leaned down and grasped the edges of the bin again, and Molly rushed forward to open the door with her catless hand.

  ‘Do me a favour next time and call before you come over and start creeping around,’ she said as he stepped out.

  ‘Yep,’ he said, and carefully stepped down onto the walkway. He dropped the bin again and turned to her. ‘I hope he’s not an asshole.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ she said with a chuckle.

  ‘He’s not one of my friends, is he?’

  ‘No, I met him through work.’

  He cracked his knuckles and looked down at the bin. ‘Well, I hope he can do what I can’t and convince you –’

  ‘Aaron, don’t.’

  Scot fidgeted, but Molly held on. She wasn’t about to go chasing him around the neighbourhood if he took off.

  ‘It didn’t just happen to you, you know. It happened to me, too.’

  ‘I’m going back inside now. Good night.’

  The door slammed with a thunk. Molly opened her arms and the cat took off for the kitchen. She waited by the door, her hand over her eyes. His visit had been only a few minutes, but he’d left her with a pounding headache.

  As the sound of his engine drew away, the usual waves of regret, anger and sadness went through her. They added to the residual frustration from earlier, and she longed to punch a hole in the wall.

  Fuck this, she thought, and after she returned her coat and boots to the kitchen she headed straight to the bedroom.

  The text from Quinn came as usual, and an hour later the house quaked with his entrance. Unable to sleep, she’d sat up in bed with her iPad and binged on Gordon Ramsay for two hours while she waited. All the shouting over frozen food and filthy freezers had done wonders to calm her down, and when he stepped from the shadows of the hallway she managed a smile.

  ‘How was your day, dear?’

  He laughed and dipped into her closet for a coat hanger. The transformation began, and the suave creature he became at twilight became her Quinn. He turned into the pumpkin she preferred, with pyjama pants slung low on his hips, and bare feet.

  ‘You don’t have to stay up and wait for me,’ he said yet again as he knelt at the foot of the bed, but there was a pleased satisfaction in those words.

  On his hands and knees he crawled over her and cast his shadow as he kissed her, then bounced into the covers. He took the iPad from her hands and slid it onto the night table, then pulled her closer.

  ‘So tell me about that face you’re trying to hide from me.’

  Molly both loved and hated that he could see through her veneer. She didn’t pull away from him, but she drew her legs up and hugged her knees.

  ‘I had a visit tonight from my ex-husband,’ she told him, and recounted the search for the hockey gear.

  Her heart fluttered in her throat as she spoke. She couldn’t believe she was telling him all about it. For so long she’d had no one to talk to. Details were glossed over when she spoke to friends and family, and co-workers at the hotel only knew that Molly was in the process of getting a divorce. Her life was given in bullet-points to other people, but Quinn got everything.

  After she’d told him about Natalie, she’d stopped holding back. It was still hard to squeeze her emotions out, but she did it, because he didn’t seize her pain as an opportunity to drive his opinion down her throat. He listened, and then he told her she was all right.

  ‘He could take the damn shed next weekend if he really wanted to,’ she said, giving herself a minute to bitch before she touched on the thoughts she had been chewing on since Aaron’s departure. ‘He has an uncle in the suburbs with a big yard, but he wants to make a point, and he wants an excuse to come around here and bust my balls.’

  He predictably said nothing as she pressed her lips together, but he tucked his hand against her thigh. The warmth bled through her thin nightgown. The connection softened her. She uncurled from her tight ball and slipped down upon the pillows with him.

  ‘I know it was hard for him. I’m not so self-absorbed as to think it wasn’t. I know selling this place is the best for everyone, but I’m not ready. It pisses me off that he just doesn’t get it and that he’s making me feel guilty because I’m keeping him in the same hole I’m in. I know I am, but I can’t force myself to be ready.’

  When she went silent, Quinn ran his hand up beneath the short hem of her nightgown. There was nothing sexual about the way his large hand rested where her thigh met her ass. He was merely offering the same quiet comfort that she was beginning to rely on.

  ‘Maybe I should do what you did,’ she went on in a whisper. ‘I should give myself a date to pull the plug and stick with it.’

  He squeezed down. ‘You don’t want to do it if you’re not ready.’

  ‘But how will I know I’m ready? What if it’s not the awakening I keep expecting it to be?’ She lifted her hand between them and pressed her palm to his chest. The faint thump of his heart was as soothing as the warmth of his bare skin. ‘What if I’m ready now but I just don’t know it?’

  ‘I think you’ll know it. It might creep up on you slowly, but you’ll know it.’

  They remained as they were, silent for a few moments longer as Molly tried to bring her scattered thoughts to order. She tried not to give Quinn’s take on things more value than all others, but it made the most sense. It fit. She wasn’t ready to clean out that room and sell the house, but she could feel something changing.

  Quinn broke the silence. ‘You should sleep if you have work tomorrow.’

  Molly twisted around to look at the clock. It was nearly midnight, and he was right. Six o’clock would come and she’d curse her alarm and the whole damn world if she didn’t nod off soon.

  Fuck it, she thought suddenly, and turned back to him with a smile.

  ‘I haven’t taken a sick day in a year and a half, you know.’

  He raised his brows and his lips twitched. ‘Feel like making my night a whole lot better?’

  Molly bit down on her smile, trapping it in as he reached up and snagged the cotton strap at her shoulder. As soon a
s he had dragged it down and exposed one breast he rose up, and Molly turned onto her back to welcome a mouth turned eager.

  ‘Did she suck you off?’ she asked as the length of his tongue coaxed her nipple into a hard peak.

  He made a sound, and a sharp bite marked the end of that gentle hush of moments ago. He glanced up at her. ‘Just toys tonight.’

  A few weeks ago she would have been surprised that someone would pay Quinn’s five-star rate to play with toys, but having experienced his skill with her growing collection she understood perfectly that he could be a eunuch with his tongue cut out and still be able to command a woman’s body with a bargain-bin vibrator.

  ‘Tell me,’ she urged as he peeled down the other side of the gown.

  He gave a little shrug as he took her breast in his hand. ‘Husband’s a prude, and she likes a fat plug and a rabbit vibrator.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, surprisingly empathetic towards the client. Her sex life had never been vanilla, and that didn’t end when she got a ring on her finger. She couldn’t imagine suffering through a long-term relationship without … well, this.

  He delivered that perfect marriage of teeth and tongue, pinching and tugging, then chasing away the sting with his urgent mouth, and also what was left of the venom that had been running through her all evening. He ultimately lost interest in her breasts and scuttled lower down the bed, taking the space she made for him between her legs and pushing the short hem up to her belly. Welcoming him, she closed her eyes and cradled his head, content to become nothing more than the sensations he brought out.

  In just a few moments she was wonderfully slippery and squirming at the mercy of his tongue and fingers, but when he began to push down on her inner thighs she stopped him and sat up.

  ‘Get on your back,’ she told him.