Infinity.

by Layne Harper

  My stomach drops for poor Aiden. He’s such a good friend to Colin and me. I hate that Rachael ended it with him. “He needs to move on. Aiden needs a good girl. Someone who can accept the love that he so freely gives. That isn’t me, and I can’t keep feeling like I’m a bad guy for not wanting what he keeps trying to give me.”

  I roll over on my side, and see the pained look on my best friend’s face. She’s hurting also. “I’m really sorry, Rach. I’m sorry that you can’t make it work. Hopefully, in time, you guys will find what you’re looking for, and maybe become friends again.”

  We drink another round of tequila shots, toasting to our friendship. I settle back in my sun-lounger and pull out my e-reader. I’ve been engrossed in a great book our whole trip. I have about two chapters left, and am looking forward to the ending. When I’ve read the same page five times, I realize that I’ve had too much to drink.

  I put my e-reader back in my beach bag, and look at my friend. She’s passed out, with a dribble of drool collected on the side of her mouth. I shake my head and laugh. She’s something else. I can’t help myself. I grab my phone and snap a picture. Who knows? I might need blackmail material one day.

  I pour myself another shot of tequila and slam it while I snack on the chips and salsa. The sun is sinking below the ocean, and the sky is painted with the most breathtaking jewel tones. I miss my boys so much that my chest aches. I want my husband lying next to me while our dog bites at his hand, attempting to entice him into an epic wrestling-match.

  I reach for my phone to call him, but I admonish myself before I hit dial. I’ll be home tomorrow, and back to the grind. I need to enjoy this time for myself, because Rachael is right: since Colin stormed into my life, there’ve been very few minutes of peace. I spin my very plain, but beautiful wedding band on my finger as I think about the last year with Colin. Between drama with my dad, me moving to Dallas, allegations of him being a prescription pain-pill abuser, walking out of the ESPY Awards, our wedding, not being able to get pregnant, and his broken leg… we’ve had a year. His limp is almost gone. It’s much more pronounced when he gets out of bed in the morning and after a hard practice, but he’s running very well. His mobility is back, along with his spirits.

  Yes. Tomorrow, I’ll have my boys back. They’re picking me up at the airport in Dallas. Now, I’m going to spend one more night pretending that Colin and I can have a baby whenever we wish, and that the football season isn’t looming on the horizon. That I don’t have the ESPY Awards in a week, and that the media hasn’t already begun reminding the world of us walking out during the comedian’s monologue. One more night of being in my fairytale bubble.

  After the sun has completed its journey, I wake up Rachael. We grab our bottle of tequila, shot glasses, the basket of chips, beach bag, and stumble to our suite to change for an evening in the clubs in downtown Cabo—or so Rachael thinks.

  The next morning, I wake up with a pounding headache, achy body, and rolling stomach. I don’t remember anything after we decided that we were too drunk to leave our hotel room. I stare up at the ceiling, chastising myself for drinking way too much, but anxiously counting down the hours until my plane leaves to bring me home.

  ****

  “For the love of God, dog, if you don’t stop yanking on your leash, you’re never going running with me again,” I admonish Pancho. I’ve become as bad as Colin about talking to the dog as if he speaks English.

  Pancho runs to the end of his leash, forcing my arm to jerk him back. He’s grown into quite the big boy at fifty-two pounds. I keep reminding Colin that if we don’t get his behavior under control, he’s going to be more of a problem at full size. Colin has blinders on when it comes to him, and says that he’s just being a puppy.

  I jerk his leash one more time, and resolve myself to the inevitable conclusion—my run is over. I slow down to a walk and remove my ear buds. I’m not far from the house, still inside the gilded cage. It’s a muggy, hot July morning. Colin and I leave in a couple of days, headed to Los Angeles for the ESPY Awards.

  I’m in a horrible mood. I’ve felt off since I got back from Cabo. At first, I thought I was still hung over, but this would be one hell of a drunk-ache if that were the case. My latest working theory is that I picked up a bug in Mexico.

  Today is the first appointment with Doctor Starr regarding what fertility procedure she wants to try. I plan on asking her to run some additional blood work. I don’t want to put my body through the fertility process if I’m not feeling one-hundred percent.

  To make matters worse, I gained enough weight in Cabo that the sample-size dress that I planned on wearing to the ESPY Awards, that the designer was just going to have to let out a little now no longer fits. I wanted to cry when I slipped the beautiful beaded, white gown over my head, and it wouldn’t zip over my breasts. I looked at Brad, whose eyes had grown as wide as saucers. He’d immediately starting asking the questions that I couldn’t formulate. Could we let it out more? Would other undergarments help the fit? How much did I need to lose before Wednesday?

  It seemed the majority of the weight had been gained in my breasts. I’d noticed my bras fitting a little more snuggly. The designer, stylist, and Brad opted instead for a backless dress that would give my boobs some more wiggle room, in case I couldn’t lose those extra pounds. Hence, why I really need this run. Now, I just feel more annoyed.

  Pancho and I have a routine. When we’re two houses from home, I release him from his leash, and he runs the rest of the way. We get to the point where it always happens and his body shakes with excitement, as he looks back at me with pleading dark-brown eyes. I smirk at him. What a spoiled boy he is. I undo the red leash from his Dallas Cowboy’s dog collar, and he takes off for home without a second glance back at me.

  I have trained my good boy to wait for me patiently at the back gate, and when I catch up to him I open the gate, and give him the command, “Go find Daddy.” He takes off like a bullet, checking the garage for Colin’s cars, and then once he confirms that Colin’s still home, I let him in the house. He runs from room to room looking for him, and when he finds him, he barks like crazy until I give him a head pat. I also might be a tad obnoxious over the dog.

  I stop by the kitchen when we enter the house. Pancho starts his searching routine while I grab a bowl for cereal. I pour the bran flakes into a bowl and get the milk out of the refrigerator. Opening the container, the smell of the milk makes me gag. Great! The damn milk is bad. I quickly close the lid, and place it in a plastic garbage bag and take it to our outside trash bin.

  I pick up my pathetic bowl of dried cereal and pick at the flakes until Pancho barks. It sounds like Colin is in the master bathroom. I remind myself that I have to walk the red carpet in two days and toss out my cereal. I’ll starve myself for the next forty-eight hours. Maybe then my boobs will deflate.

  Pancho found Colin right in the nick of time. I turn the corner and walk into the bathroom glimpsing my naked, gorgeous, husband stepping out of the shower. Leaning against the doorjamb, I take a moment to drink in the sight. Water droplets cling to his muscular back, chest, and arms, making me jealous. He puts his leg up on the side of the tub and runs a towel over his finely sculpted legs. I note that both legs now seem to be the same width. For a while after the “break seen around the world” his right calf muscle and thigh had noticeably atrophied.

  He doesn’t realize I’m behind him, watching. Pancho lets out another yelp as if to tell him to turn around. Colin misinterprets it and says to him as he scratches his ears, “Don’t worry, boy. She’ll be in here in a second.”

  Colin brings the towel up, and moves it back and forth over his dark-blonde hair, making his curls a tussled mess. When he’s done, he hangs up the towel and does his signature dog-shake move. Him and Pancho—no matter how dry they get, they both still have to wiggle their bodies, as if to release the last bit of water droplets hanging on for dear life.

  I stroll in the bathroom and Colin, sensing my prese
nce, looks at me with those piercing green eyes. They skim over me, head to toe, and make me smile. “Like what you see?”

  “Like it much better when it’s naked, wet, and underneath me,” he says flashing me his sexy half-smile.

  I shake my head and giggle. “What am I going to do with you?” I head for my closet to strip off my sweaty running gear.

  He follows behind me. “I’ve got ten minutes before I have to leave,” he says suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

  He watches me with his mischievous half-smile plastered on his face as I remove my sweat-drenched sports bra. “I’ve got my appointment with Doctor Starr today, and I don’t want to smell like fuck-musk, so the answer is no. You can have your wicked way with me tonight.”

  He crosses his arms over his sculpted pecs and says, “Fine. Don’t forget, you’re coming by the office today for the cologne meeting.”

  I bat my eyelashes. “How could I?” Colin just signed a new deal with the cologne company to release another scent this year. A group from the company is in town today to let Colin sample the new scents, and talk about packaging. He wants my opinion on the fragrances. I’ve told him that I don’t think that I’ll be much help. In reality, I’m not a big fan of cologne. Even though Colin has a signature scent, he rarely wears it. But he asked me to join the meeting, so I plan on being there.

  “Maybe after the meeting we can look at some of the 3D renderings the architectural firm did on the Lake Somerville property,” Colin says as he walks out of my closet.

  I turn and watch his naked behind sway suggestively from side to side. Maybe a quickie?

  “How do they look?” I ask distracting myself from the rather hot mental-image of him taking me against the bathroom counter.

  He has the vision to turn the densely wooded property surrounding the small tributary lake into a dream vacation compound for us. I’m not seeing it yet.

  “They did four drawings for us. Two I think we can easily eliminate. The other two have some great ideas. Maybe we can mix and match,” he calls from the depths of his closet. Then, without missing a beat, “Feeling any better?”

  I walk through to the bathroom and turn on the shower. “Not really. I just don’t have any energy. I constantly feel queasy and achy.”

  As I’m stepping in the shower, he approaches the glass with a very serious look on his face. “Could you be pregnant?” he asks so quietly that I can barely hear him over the running water.

  I feel my face drop in despair. I shake my head back and forth. “No, baby. I had a period. Remember?”

  “I know. I know,” he says, running his hand through his still wet hair. The overhead light catches his wedding ring, making it sparkle. “I just thought that I would ask.”

  ****

  I pull into the CharCol Inc. office-building parking lot with five minutes to spare. I hope that the cologne people aren’t here yet. Maybe their plane is delayed. I could use the extra time with my husband. Images of him taking me quickly in his office have kept me bothered all day.

  My dress-fitting earlier today was a disaster. Even though I’ve exercised like a fiend and counted every calorie, my new dress is now snug across my chest. I almost cried. Everyone promises that it will be fine for Wednesday.

  The whole time that I stood there, while the designer’s assistant, seamstress, and Brad poked and prodded me, I just wanted my husband. Normally, I have a decent sex drive. Today, I almost feel manic for him. Quickie in his office? I hope so. I brought sports wipes in my purse just in case I get lucky. I was serious when I told him this morning that I don’t want to smell like sex for my appointment with Doctor Starr, but my mental images have made me not give a damn anymore.

  Jenny greets me with a warm hello and we exchange pleasantries, although she never takes her eyes from her computer screen. Her office is what greets visitors when they walk through the doors of CharCol Inc. Today, her hair is a rather tame shade of strawberry-pink. She has on a baby-blue blouse, and yellow skinny jeans. Jenny, with her new hair color, looks like a My Little Pony commercial. “So, I hear you’re batting for the other team.”

  “Stupid paparazzi,” I quip. “I greet my best friend at the airport with a big hug and kiss on the cheek, and now I’m cheating on Colin, the media’s golden boy, with Rachael. But I guess it could’ve been worse. The media could have assumed that she’s a child, ‘cause she’s so tiny, and called me a molester.” I shiver at the thought that the press gets it wrong so often.

  “Yeah, Colin came in the other morning and threw the magazine on my desk. I believe his exact words were: ‘Frame this bitch. It’s hanging in my office.’” Finally, she looks away from the screen and rolls her eyes.

  We both agree that men are pigs.

  Jenny shows me into the conference room, which is already filled with the cologne company representatives, much to my dismay.

  Colin rises to his feet and glides towards me with the grace of an athlete. He pulls me into a tight embrace, giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek. He announces to the room, “Everyone, this is Doctor Collins. She’s going to be sharing her expert opinion with me on the new scents.”

  He then proceeds to introduce two men and three women, all with French names that I’ll never remember. Colin motions for me to take an empty chair next to him. I do, feeling rather uncomfortable because of the intense heat in my stomach. Being in his presence makes me want him even more if that’s possible. I lean in, attempting to wrap his aura around me. I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself, and reach under the table to touch his thigh. What’s wrong with me?

  His eyes cut sideways as he gives me a questioning look. Colin and I are never overly affectionate in public, let alone at a business meeting. I get that my hand on his thigh is probably inappropriate, but it has a mind of its own, and refuses to be removed.

  He mouths, You okay?

  I dip my chin and look up at through my eyelashes. I love you, I mouth back.

  He flashes me his half-smile, and I melt into a puddle right there in the CharCol Inc. conference room.

  Before I can proposition him for a quickie in his office, Jenny gets his attention. They begin a quiet discussion amongst themselves, turning away from me. The cologne people speak in French to each other while I pull out my phone and pretend to be busy checking my email, feeling lost that his attention is no longer focused on me. There’s just junk and shopping offers. They remind me that I’m too fat for my dress I must wear in two days. I want to cry again.

  Jenny excuses herself, leaving the conference room. Before I can make my move, Colin steps outside to return a phone call. I’m half tempted to follow him out and offer some sexual suggestions, but he’s standing in front of the conference room windows, pacing back and forth. He looks so hot in his dress slacks and linen button-up shirt. My mind races with thoughts about ripping the shirt off and watching the buttons fly across his office while I lick, bite, and mark his chest with my teeth. My impure thoughts make my face flush, and warmth floods my panties. I’ve got to get myself under control. Silently, I admonish myself. The perfume people will know exactly what we’re doing. Decorum overrides my sexual desires, and I slump deeper into the soft black leather chair, counting the seconds until I can get my husband home.

  About five minutes later, Jenny returns, arms loaded down with bags of Italian takeout from the little shop around the corner. As she starts setting it up buffet-style on the granite bar, the smell of marinara sauce hits me, and my stomach does a very uncomfortable flip. I turn away from the smell, and bring my hand up as if to shield my nose from the offending odor.

  Colin slips back into the seat next to me. “Are you okay?” Colin leans over and whispers. Worry lines crease his beautiful eyes. “You look funny.”

  I nod my head, not wanting to open my mouth. I manage to squeak out, “Water.” He jumps to his feet and walks over to the bar. He opens the small refrigerator and takes out two bottles of water for us to have with our lunch the chef prepared at home.r />
  He unscrews the cap, and sits my water bottle down in front of me. He also removes the foil from my lunch. Thankfully, there are two rice cakes. I pick one up and break off an edge. The bland nothingness of a rice cake never tasted so good. Soon, my stomach settles, and I glance up at Colin, who’s still clearly very worried.

  “I haven’t been eating much trying to get ready for the ESPY Awards. I think that I just got low blood sugar.”

  He drops his chin and cocks an eyebrow, “And…”

  “And, I’ll mention it to Doctor Starr, who I’m seeing in two hours.” I try to remind him that my time today is limited, so he should get the show on the road.

  Once everyone has the lunch plates fixed, a woman in a beautiful black suit stands up and begins the presentation. I listen to her drone on and on about market research, product placement, and other things that I don’t care about. It would be snooze-worthy if I didn’t find her French accent so alluring to listen to.

  She talks about how they plan to go after a different demographic with this new cologne. Instead of targeting the average sportsman, this cologne is more sophisticated. It will be targeted to the man who appreciates luxury, and fine details.

  When she’s done speaking, she introduces one of the men, who hands out five sheets of paper each to Colin, Jenny, and me. Each one has a number on it. “I’m going to pass a scent, and each of you will evaluate it based on the criteria on the pages in front of you. We’ll do this for all five scents. This should give us a better idea as to what you’re looking for, Colin, in a fragrance. I suggest you bring the vial right under your nose to block out the scent of lunch.” He brings the first tube under his nose to demonstrate.

  I want to roll my eyes. What he’s looking for in a fragrance? Try Ivory soap and dog spit. Mix in the essence of sex, and he’s a happy man. Colin reaches under the table and squeezes my knee as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.