This Is Not About Love

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “I understand what you are saying, and I feel the same way. I don’t want you to leave Alex for me. If you are going to leave him, I want you to do it because you want to. I don’t want to break up your marriage and carry that burden with me for the rest of my life,” he said.

  “Exactly,” she said. “You proposed to Penelope for a reason, and I know that your feelings for me are real and true, but you have to figure this out on your own. After today, I don’t want to sneak around anymore.”

  “Me neither…but how am I supposed to just walk away from you after everything that’s been said and done between us?” he asked, shaking his head from side to side.

  “Alex gets home tomorrow, and in another month, he’ll be going back to San Diego to work on another site for two months.”

  “How do you feel about him coming home?” Michael asked.

  Violet sighed, and she could feel the tears coming, so she held up a finger and tucked her knees up to her chest. The anxiety was back with a vengeance, and this was not the time or place for her to fall apart. Despite the reality of the situation, she wanted to enjoy this night with Michael. She wanted to enjoy it as though it were their last night together, because in reality, it very well could be.

  She took a deep breath to soothe her nerves, and he held her face gently in his hands. He kissed her neck and shoulders lightly, then moved behind her and started massaging the tension out of her shoulders. God, she loved him. And she wanted to savor this moment forever, regardless of how it would end.

  Violet closed her eyes and imagined that day when she was eleven. Michael picking her up off the ground and treating her wounds…Michael sitting on the rooftop of his family home, blasting heavy metal as he took drags off one of his parents’ cigarettes…Michael walking up to her outside the bar and telling her everything she had ever wanted to hear from him all these years…and last but not least, this very moment, and all of the other recent encounters they’d had. Violet could not imagine never seeing him again. She could not imagine going back to life as usual with Alex and pretending that nothing had ever happened. But she had to know they were doing the right thing, and they owed it to their spouses not to carry on with their relationship until they were sure of what they wanted.

  “You asked me how I feel about Alex coming home…” she finally said.

  “Yes?” he asked, continuing to massage every ounce of anxiety out of her body.

  “Well, the truth is, I don’t know how I feel about it. And that is exactly why I think we should both go home tomorrow and spend the next month figuring out ourselves,” she said.

  “What does that mean, exactly?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss her right earlobe.

  “So, this is my proposal to you,” she said, turning around to face him on the bed. “In one month, when Alex leaves for San Diego, I will reserve this same room for us,” she said.

  “Sounds pretty good so far,” he said with a chuckle. She gave him a playful shove and reminded him that she was being serious.

  “If you decide you want to continue our relationship, then I want you to show up on that day, one month from now…” she murmured softly.

  Violet looked up into Michael’s amazing, green eyes to see his reaction. “If that’s what you think is best, then I’m on board. Waiting to see you for an entire month will be hell, but you know what they say about fondness making the heart grow stronger,” he teased, reaching forward to tickle her.

  Violet let him tickle her, and they wrestled for several minutes on the bed, laughing and teasing one another. She finally won the match and straddled him when she had him pinned on his back. She looked into his eyes once more and said, “I want you to take this seriously, Michael. I care about you and your son very much, and I think you owe it to him and to yourself to think this through before we proceed any further.”

  Michael pulled her face onto his chest, and they held each other wordlessly for a moment. “I will, Violet. I really will,” Michael agreed, softly, “and I want you to do the same with Alex. I don’t know the guy, but there must be something special about him if he bagged a hot babe like you,” he joked, and then they started wrestling again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four hours and three cheeseburgers later, Penelope was ready to take action. Her mother had suggested that she wait a while before going inside the Filmont Inn, just in case Michael was in there alone waiting on some woman to show up. The last thing she wanted was to bust down the door and find him sitting there watching ESPN with his feet up.

  But after four hours of nail-biting torture, she could wait no longer. She had called Angela on her cell phone to let the kids know she was okay, and she prompted them to go to bed. She explained her failure to come home by launching into a ridiculous story about an emergency at work that made no sense at all, even to her, but Angie did not seem concerned. Angela reassured Penelope that they had eaten, taken showers, and brushed their teeth. Penelope could hear Elijah laughing in the background, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread as she wondered what would happen next and how it would affect not only her and Michael, but also their children.

  Penelope glanced at her reflection in the driver-side mirror and noticed the way the dim lights outside the hotel reflected the thin strips of gray in her hair. After tonight, I will probably go completely gray, she thought, leaning her back against the seat and squeezing her eyes shut. She wondered why the hell she was worried about how she looked at a time like this. If Michael was in there with some other woman, she did not give a damn what he thought of her anymore. But she knew that wasn’t true; the Jeanie in her was struggling to take over in order to preserve her fragile ego, but she knew how bad it would really hurt to lose Michael. She had wanted this to work so badly. She still wanted it to work. Having a family with security and normalcy was all she had ever wanted, and after Brian died…well, she did not want to think about that right now, either.

  But the image of his face floated through her mind anyway, and she remembered what she had forgotten for so long, and that was that she loved Brian deeply. They met in nursing school as classmates, but their relationship rapidly developed into courtship. There were fewer men in their class than women; it was that way in almost every nursing program across the country, so, his immediate interest in Penelope sparked jealousy in many of her female counterparts, and thus, they often alienated her when it came to on-campus gatherings and functions. Penelope was so accustomed to concerning herself with public perception, but she was so in love with Brian that she just didn’t care; the less time she spent with her female colleagues was just that much more time she could devote to Brian. She discovered she was pregnant with Angela during the spring semester of their junior year. She considered taking a leave of absence, but her mother was so disappointed by her unplanned pregnancy that leaving school too was just not an option for Penelope. She and Brian got part-time jobs and rented a small cottage not far from campus; they completed their studies, and they raised their daughter all on their own, struggling through it together.

  Brian brought out the best in her and she the best in him. Angela was merely a small girl of age eight when he fell over dead in the kitchen. The shock was more than either of them could bear, and instead of working through it with a counselor or seeking some type of aid, Penelope acted like her mother; she dove deeper into her work and had one short-lived romance after another. That was until she met Michael Sinclair, and all of the turmoil inside of her started to rest. Tonight, she felt it toiling inside her again, and she was ready to confront this bastard for causing her to feel this much anger and pain again.

  Penelope opened the door and stepped out into the chilly night air. She grabbed her coat and bag from the seat and slipped it on slowly as she did a quick scan of the parking lot. Other than her quick trip down the road to McDonald’s, she had been parked outside the hotel all night. She had seen no more signs of Michael, and his Jeep was still as he left it. Other than several families and one lon
ely looking gentleman, she had not seen anyone else enter the hotel. What she had really been waiting for was some hussy to pull up and go in alone so she could at least identify her target. Penelope had no doubt in her mind that if Michael was meeting someone, that someone had arrived before him and was most likely his ex-wife and Elijah’s estranged mother, Lexi.

  Penelope’s hands curled into fists as she imagined Michael and that stupid slut hooking up again. She had never had the pleasure of meeting the wench, but she had heard stories aplenty about Lexi Ambrose. Lexi had been pretty wild back in the day, and Penelope knew that Lexi and Michael had experimented with drugs and indulged in promiscuous sex. The fact that she would abandon her only son speaks volumes about her character, not only as a mother but also as a person, Penelope thought with a smirk.

  Even though she did not know Michael before two years ago, she had done her homework on him as well. His reputation for wildness had scared her at first, but she had to admit that it was also what appealed to her most. He was mysterious and dark at times, and she loved going out with him and watching women drool over him. Not only that, but he was also a single father with an established career, and he was great with Elijah. He was great with Angela too, she reminded herself. Her heart ached at the thought of seeing Angie lose another father figure in her life.

  Penelope sighed and took a deep breath before opening the door to the lobby of the Filmont Inn. She had never been here before, and she had to admit it was quite lovely. She headed for the check-in counter, trying to look confident and innocent of any wrongdoing. The receptionist greeted her with a smile and asked if she needed a room for the night. “No, thank you. I’m here to meet my fiancé, Michael Sinclair. He checked in around eight this evening, and I was supposed to meet him after work, but I was running late,” Penelope quickly improvised.

  “Room number?” the receptionist asked, looking up at Penelope with a smile.

  “Ugh…shit, I don’t remember. I think it was on the second floor, maybe. Damn…”

  Penelope pulled out her Blackberry and pretended to dial Michael’s number. She held the phone to her ear and said, “I was hoping not to wake him, but I guess I’ll have to call up and see…”

  A family of four walked up behind her, and Penelope cursed loudly as she hung up the phone and fake-dialed him again. The mother behind her gave her a disapproving glance and the next thing she knew, she was being handed a room key. “Enjoy your stay, ma’am,” the annoying receptionist told her, eager to get her out of there before she scared off any new customers.

  Penelope gave a sigh of relief, as she pressed the button for the elevator. As she waited, she noticed the silver trash can that sat in the center of both doorways. She stole a glance down at the keycard in her hand.

  “Room 206, here I come,” she boasted aloud, and then she pulled the model airplane and the box of Lexi and Michael memorabilia from her bag, tossing them in the trash just as the elevator doors opened wide for her grand entrance.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even though it was past midnight and she was curled up with the sexiest man on the planet, Violet could not sleep. She was overwhelmed with thoughts of Michael, his family, and her own husband who was due home in approximately fourteen hours. It was hard to believe that by this time tomorrow night, she would probably be lying in bed next to Alex instead of Michael. She stroked Michael’s hair and stole a glance at his peaceful, sleeping face. He was snoring softly, and she wished she could do the same.

  Violet finally gave in to the restlessness and pulled herself out of bed, being careful not to wake up Michael. She went into the hotel bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. She smiled as she thought about how perfect the evening had been. Michael and she had made love for hours and then finished off the champagne and chocolates. After that, he carried her to the large Jacuzzi tub where he washed her hair and scrubbed her back. Looking back, the night felt like a dream. When it came to her attraction to Michael, it wasn’t just about the sex. Of course the sex was great, but in addition to being a tremendous lover, he was also a wonderful friend. Over the past few months, they had shared more deep conversations than she had shared with everyone she had ever known combined. He was charming, funny, and loyal.

  Loyal seemed like a strange way to describe him, considering his infidelity. Perhaps she was being naïve, but she knew it wasn’t in Michael’s nature to hurt people, and despite his feelings for her, she could tell he was tormented by his current situation.

  While taking a bath, Michael had opened up with her about his current relationship. Violet refrained from saying anything negative about Penelope. After all, she had never met the woman, and one of her greatest pet peeves was catty women who liked nothing better than to bash one another.

  Michael had a lot of good things to say about Penelope. She was pretty much the exact opposite of his first wife. She was responsible, grounded, and matronly. She liked him home for dinner by seven, and she attended all of her daughter’s cheerleading games diligently.

  Violet could tell he had reached a sore spot in the story when he started to talk about Penelope’s daughter, Angela. Angela had been fatherless since the age of six, and apparently, she and Michael’s son, Elijah, had really hit it off. Although he described his relationship with Angela as rocky at first, it became apparent that both Angela and Michael had grown attached to each other over the past year. And then there was Elijah…

  Michael broke down when he talked about the years that it had just been he and Elijah. It was obvious he felt horrible for every mistake he had made along the way. Michael admitted that he had felt awkward comforting his son after Lexi left. He could barely take care of himself, much less a small child, he admitted. Violet could see the shame in his eyes as he talked on and on about missed birthdays, bouncing Elijah around from one babysitter to the next, and teaching the boy to basically fend for himself on nights when he was working late.

  Michael’s humility was one thing she loved about him. Despite his confident demeanor and dashing good looks, he was just as damaged and insecure as she, if not more so.

  Violet tried to reassure Michael that he had raised Elijah the best way he knew how and that she admired his courage after experiencing the devastating loss of his wife and his son’s mother. She told him something she once heard her Granny say: “Bad parents don’t sit around wondering if they are bad parents. So, anytime I hear a parent questioning their skills or ruminating over something they should have done, or could have done better for their children, I know right away that they’re good parents. Bad parents do not know that they’re bad parents because they don’t care enough about their children to stop and question themselves.”

  Michael had fallen asleep watching an old western shortly after eleven. She loved watching him sleep, and she wondered if he was dreaming. She prayed that if he was, the dreams were good ones.

  Violet used the bathroom and headed over to the small dinette table that was located next to the TV set. She felt inspired to write down some ideas for her book and regretted not bringing her laptop.

  She flipped on the small reading light next to the table and found a pad of paper and pens in one of the desk drawers. She settled down into a chair and lit a cigarette before jotting down a few notes she could refer to later when she got home to her computer.

  Violet’s thoughts were quickly disturbed by a sound at the door. It almost sounded like someone was turning the knob. Perhaps some intoxicated person had come to their door by mistake. After all, this is a hotel, she thought.

  She tried to focus her thoughts back to her writing, but then she heard what sounded like a keycard sliding in the lock, and the next thing she knew, some blonde woman threw open the hotel room door and charged right at her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The first thing Penelope saw when she opened the door to Room 206 was a half-naked broad sitting at a table and her completely naked fiancé in bed. This woman sitting in the chair was not Lexi
Ambrose. Without a second thought, she ran straight at her, knocking her out of the chair and waking up Michael in the process. Penelope’s first instinct was to hurt this woman, but on second thought, she would much rather hurt the person who was really responsible for inflicting all of this pain: Michael Sinclair.

  Michael was sitting up in the bed now, and she hurtled herself toward him, slapping at his face frantically. “How could you do this to me, Michael?” she screamed, “to my daughter…your son…” she exclaimed breathily. “I feel so…broken,” she finished.

  Michael was out of bed now, and he was holding her around the waist. She no longer had the energy to fight anyone. She felt hopelessly defeated, and all she wanted to do was lie down and give up.

  The door to the room was open, and by now, people were coming out of their rooms in response to the commotion. Most of the hotel patrons were perfectly content to just stand near the doorway watching this drama unfold. They are vultures, Penelope thought, and she felt utter disgust for them and for her own behavior. Her mother had told her to go in there and just keep her head high as she confronted Michael, and this was definitely not what she had in mind. She was making a spectacle of herself.

  “Penelope, p-please…let me get dressed, and I’ll drive you home,” Michael stammered. The whole scenario seemed so unreal to him, like a terrible nightmare he had suddenly woken up from—only this was his reality, and he had to deal with it.

  Michael told Penelope to wait in the hallway so he could get dressed, and she surprisingly complied, sliding down the wall outside the doorframe and crying with her head hung low to her knees. The look on her face was pure devastation, and Michael was responsible for it.