Falling In

by Hopkins, Andrea

  After a brief excursion downstairs for popcorn and another bottle of wine, we spend the rest of the night watching reruns of Friends on TV Land and vegging out in his bed. Aside from not painting our nails or giving each other makeovers, it’s practically a slumber party, and it’s absolutely perfect. It’s exactly what I need right now.

  Comfort.

  Solace.

  Once we finish crushing the second bottle of wine, we’re slightly buzzed—or at least I am—and cackling at Jimmy Fallon’s monologue on The Tonight Show. All night long, Jake has had to keep at least one hand on me, like he’s scared I’m going to up and leave, or vanish into thin air. Right now he has my feet in his lap, massaging them with his skilled hands. With each stroke and caress and just the right amount of pressure, my whole body liquefies and my eyes can’t help but close.

  I hear him whisper “pixie” a few times, and I might have gotten out an “hmmm,” but other than that, the darkness has a strong hold on me, pulling me into a relaxing state of slumber. But before I’m completely gone, I feel his arms snake underneath my body, moving me back to the top of the bed and sheltering me with his blanket. His lips gently cover mine, and I instinctively moan softly against his mouth.

  “Goodnight, pixie. I love you.”

  And without any thought or control, the words that I have been hoarding and have kept hidden under lock, key, and with a foolproof password, come tumbling tiredly out of my mouth.

  “I love you too, Jake.”

  With that little announcement, my body instantly wakes up. I know what I just said, and that I have never said it to him before. I know the impact and complication it will cause, no matter how true it might be. I can feel the anxiety creeping up and manifesting in my stomach. I don’t want to open my eyes. I want to keep them closed and pretend I am in a deep sleep, and what I just said was a result of some crazy ass dream, and that Jake’s name really isn’t Jake. But I know I can’t do that. I can feel his eyes on me. They haven’t left, and most likely won’t leave until something else is said.

  Timidly and oh so slowly, I open my eyes, and what I see causes any explanation or denial to get caught in my throat. The smile on his face is innocent, open, shocked, elated. His green eyes are staring directly into mine, asking me if my words are true.

  As much as I want to deny it or at least should want to deny it, I can’t. I love him. I don’t know when it happened, or why. It just did.

  I simply nod my head, the words unable to form on my lips. I watch that wary smile of his transform into an ecstatic and contagious grin. He yanks me off the bed and right into his arms, feverishly putting his mouth back onto mine—only this time, his tongue comes to play. After a few rounds of tonsil hockey, he places his forehead on mine and looks down at me with everything he’s feeling.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. Hoping I would get the chance. I wasn’t sure I ever would.”

  “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would ever say it. Not because I wasn’t sure I loved you. I think, deep down, I’ve known for a while now. I just never knew if it was worth telling you.”

  “So is it?”

  “Seeing your face light up like it just did, like it was Christmas morning, feeling every ounce of what you feel for me in that kiss that I can still feel on my lips—yeah, I think it was worth it. I just don’t know at what cost. Yes, I love you, Jake. But I love him too.”

  “I know. It fucking sucks, but I know, I get it. I wish you didn’t. I wish I’d found you first. I wish you were always mine. I wish I had been there for you when he was. I wish—” he trails off, closing his eyes as if he’s said too much.

  “What, what do you wish?” I ask, needing—hoping—he answers.

  “I wish you would pick me. I wish you could tell me right now that you’re mine, only mine. I wish you could let him go and just fall in with me. Finally. Without reservations or doubt. Just fall.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “I know.” He says with a woeful quirk of his mouth. I bring my hand to his cheek, hoping to wipe away the sadness that has made its way into his emerald eyes.

  “I love you, and I will figure this out. I’m ready. Just hang on a little longer, okay—please? Don’t give up on me yet.”

  This time he puts his hand on my cheek, his eyes turning into pillars of determination. “As long as you still want me, I will never give up. I honestly don’t think I could give up, even if you told me to fuck off and that you never wanted to see my sorry ass again.”

  “How very stalkerish of you.” I say jokingly, hoping to lighten up the mood.

  “Meh. You say stalker, I say hopelessly devoted.”

  And that’s when I break out into a sleepy and out of tune rendition of Olivia Newton John’s Hopelessly Devoted to You from one of the greatest musicals ever, Grease. I sound terrible, but it puts a real smile back onto his face, so it’s totally worth it.

  “All right, Sandy, why don’t we brush our teeth before you fall back asleep—or worse, start singing Grease Lightning.”

  “Oh whatever you say, Zuko-baby!”

  “I always thought Cha Cha was hotter than Sandy,” he says with a wink.

  “Of course you did. That Latina fire is impossible to ignore!”

  “Don’t I fucking know it!” he says before swatting my ass as we walk to the bathroom. He hands me a brand new, unopened toothbrush. I raise my eyebrows at him and he just shrugs, feigning innocence. “What?” I jiggle the toothbrush at him. “I got it just in case, you know, you happened to stay over. And well, it’s a good thing I’m so diligent and thoughtful. Otherwise, you’d be using your finger right now instead of that badass pink toothbrush.” He finishes, just before sticking his own toothbrush into his mouth. I shake my head in mock disbelief and follow suit.

  We watch each other while doing this mundane task that for some reason seems like a brand new concept, and might be just a tad bit erotic. Of course, I am pretty sure that anything Jake does could be erotic. He oozes sex and mystery—although, I find myself constantly delving deeper into the unknown of this man. Every day he lets me a little further in, and with that, those haunting eyes grow a little less dim.

  After we finish our teeth, I kick him out so I can wash my face, pee, and gather my wits before climbing into bed with the walking orgasm who is wearing nothing but effng underwear. I gulp at the thought. Being so close to him and not taking advantage, not giving in to my desires, to ignore every cell in my body that is screaming for his touch, will be the test of a lifetime.

  I don’t want to ignore it. I want to give myself to him. I want to feel every inch of him inside of me. I want him to fill me up and hold me closer than he ever has before. I want to hear his heartbeat escalate and thunder in my ear as we writhe together. I want him. I want him more than I have ever wanted anything.

  But I can’t.

  I can’t do that to Cole.

  Yes, I can argue that Jake and I are basically already having an affair—we’ve kissed, we’ve sexted, we’ve dry humped, for fuck’s sake. So why not? Cole sure as hell thinks we’ve slept together, so we might as well do it, right?

  But that’s the thing—we haven’t slept together. We haven’t crossed that line, no matter how damn blurry or non-existent it is. We haven’t crossed it yet, and I don’t want to until I know for certain that Jake is who I really want. Truly want. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if I do otherwise. Not that it really matters much anymore, but I owe it to Cole nonetheless. It’s the least I can do, after all he has done for me.

  When I open the bathroom door, I am bathed in darkness. The TV is off, and Jake is no doubt lying in bed, in his sexy ass underwear, waiting for me. I take a deep breath, then carefully begin walking, keeping my arms out, patting anything I can find before making it safely back to his bed. The covers are already drawn, and as I slip underneath them, I swear I enter Heaven.

  “Your bed is way too comfortable. I think I could lay here all day
and be the happiest woman alive.”

  “You can stay in my bed for as long as you want. Having you right here, right now, has made me the happiest man alive,” he says as he pulls me back into his warm chest, making me the little spoon. His hot breath on the back of my neck sends chills down my spine. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He whispers in my hair. “I mean I can, because I’m me.” He laughs as I elbow him in the side. “No, but seriously, in the beginning, I never thought I would get the chance to even touch you, let alone have you. I wanted to. I hoped I would get to, but I never thought it would actually happen. And now, here you are, in my bed, in my arms, wearing my t-shirt and possibly giving me the chance to do this every night. I don’t know if you know how much this means to me. How much I want this. But damn, pixie, I would give anything, do anything to keep you here with me.”

  I turn around in his arms to face him. I can’t see much, but fragments of his features are illuminated by the light of the moon. I reach my hand up, in search of his face. Finding it almost instantly, and cupping both sides in my hands, I kiss him. Not frantically or lust-filled, just slowly, intimately. I let my lips take their time in coveting his. Our tongues are moving rhythmically together, as if slow dancing to their favorite song.

  “Fuck pixie, you’ve ruined me.” He whispers against my mouth. “I’m so far in, I don’t know how I’ll dig myself out if—” he doesn’t finish his thought.

  “I’m sorry.” I whisper back, removing my hands from his face as the guilt rises quickly to the surface.

  “Don’t apologize, Evangeline. Not about this, not about us. No matter what happens in the end, I won’t regret a thing. Not one damn thing.”

  “But I might hurt you. Or him. Either way, someone will get hurt. There’s no way around it, and I hate it. It’s killing me. I love you both. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “Like you said, there is no way around that. One of us is going to come up empty handed. But you have to stop worrying about that, about us. Don’t think about what Cole wants, or what I want. Think about what you want. Who you want. Who would make you the happiest? Who, when you close your eyes, do you see lying next to you every night, and waking up to every morning? Who do you see by your side, twenty years from now? Who can’t you walk away from? Those are the questions you need to ask yourself. Once you figure that out, you’ll know.” He kisses my lips one more time before placing them on my forehead as well. “We should get some sleep. Ben doesn’t know the meaning of sleeping in. That and, well, having you so damn close is way too tempting. If we’re asleep, I won’t have to worry about wanting to maul you every fucking second.”

  “Smart man,” I say with a smile. I turn back around, sighing in contentment as I once again become his little spoon. “Goodnight, Jake.”

  “Goodnight, pixie.”

  It has to only be about five minutes before Jake’s breathing evens out and he begins to lightly snore. As tired as I am, I can’t seem to follow suit. What Jake said just before falling asleep is swirling around in my head, stirring up my thoughts.

  I try to ignore the guilt of the impending pain I will cause for one of the men I love. Pushing that aside for the moment, I need to focus on myself and what I want. I close my eyes and picture my life as it is, and how it could be. I look back on the years I’ve shared with Cole, recalling, memorizing our endless moments together. Most are good, some less than so, but almost every memory I have of the past involves Cole in some way. He’s been the one constant in my life. Until our kids, he was the only good thing I ever had. Losing him, letting him go—I don’t even know how I would even do that. I’ve never pictured my life without him. I never thought I would have to.

  But now, things are so different. I feel different. Cole’s different, too—mostly because of me and what I’ve done to us. But nonetheless, we’re not the same people we were before Jake walked into our lives. He’s changed everything. Jake is the ultimate game-changer. He brings something out in me that Cole was never capable of doing. He makes me feel things I never felt before, never thought I was missing until him. I try to insert Jake into the position that Cole has held for twenty years. I try to imagine starting over with him.

  For hours I go back and forth, visualizing my life over the next twenty, thirty, forty years, with both men. I try to dig for what I want, for who I want, for who I love so deeply I can’t imagine my life without. I search for my own happiness. As I continue to rummage through my thoughts and examine each feeling, I keep seeing a face. No matter how hard I try to shake him out of my head, my mind, my heart keeps going back to him.

  And then it hits me like a freight train. The face I can’t seem to shake, the face that keeps haunting my subconscious—he’s the one I want.

  I have to see Cole tomorrow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jake

  When I wake up, I’m on my stomach, facing away from Evangeline. Not that it matters—I know she’s gone, without even looking. I can feel her absence. It’s like a hole in the pit of my stomach. A hole that when she’s near is full, and overtakes my entire body. It gives me life, makes me feel. Everything.

  I slowly turn around and sure enough, the side of the bed that her gorgeous, nearly naked body occupied last night is empty, aside from a piece of paper that has taken residence on her pillow. I’m fucking terrified to read it. Almost certain I know what it says, and I’m not ready to hear it. I don’t think I ever will be. But like the broody masochist I am, I hesitantly pick up the folded piece of paper. Closing my eyes, I try to fucking man up, take a deep breath, unfold, and read.

  Jake,

  This isn’t what I am sure you think it is. I did what you told me to last night while you were sleeping and snoring, quite loudly I might add. I stopped thinking about what you wanted. Or what Cole wanted, or what I should do, or what is expected of me. I ignored it all and just focused on me. On what I want. On what would make me happy. It felt selfish at first, but then—then it felt so good, I’m not sure I can even describe it. Relief. I felt relieved, and free for the first time.

  Anyway, I need to see Cole. I thought it would be best if I left before you woke. I don’t think I could go if I felt those eyes of yours on me. I need to see him first. I promise I will be back tonight. I won’t do this in a letter. I can’t. There is too much to say. See you soon.

  Love, Evangeline

  Well fuck.

  I don’t know if that was a good letter or a bad one. She left me no hints. No insight into what the hell is going on in her head. And normally, I know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. But damn, I think she might be getting better at disguising her emotions. Why would she have to see Cole first? Because she’s known him longer? Because they have a fucking life together? She could be telling him right now that he’s the one. Or that he isn’t. I have no fucking clue. But either way, I have to wait. I will be the last one to know.

  And it fucking sucks.

  I rub my chest, the bare skin directly over my heart, and I swear I feel hers gradually moving away from mine. I just hope by the end of the day, it comes back to me.

  And never leaves again.

  ***

  Evangeline

  I’m at Acorn Park. The park that holds more memories than I can count, most of them beginning with pain, but ending here in comfort. This is my safe place. The place I went to find peace, to find Cole. Always to find Cole. I sit on the swings, watching a few little kids spin on the merry-go-round. Their laughter fills the air, and if I close my eyes, I can picture Cole and I doing that exact same thing here twenty years ago.

  I swipe a lone tear that falls down my face as my heart tightens in remorse. I gingerly move back and forth, my feet grazing the sand beneath them, and wait. I wait for him, like I’ve done so many times before. I thought about what I was going to say to Cole on the hour and a half drive back to Eugene, but nothing has stuck. Nothing seems worthy enough. What do you say to the man who has spent his whole life loving you?
r />   I don’t have much time to figure that out.

  I hear a car pull up behind me, and I just know it’s him from the way the tiny hairs on my neck rise and how my stomach plummets to the ground. I close my eyes again and listen to his footsteps drawing closer and closer, until they stop right next to me. My eyes open and I turn my head to find Cole sitting on the swing to my left. He doesn’t look at me, just straight ahead, off into the distance. Possibly feeling that same bout of nostalgia that has been coursing through me since I set foot onto this park. We don’t speak for I don’t know how long, but long enough to where I can’t take it anymore. So with a sigh, I let everything go.

  “This is my favorite place in the whole world. We had our first kiss here. Our first ‘I love you.’ Our first time, in your old Jeep.” I smile, remembering that last moment. We didn’t plan to have sex that night. We both wanted to wait, to make it perfect, but what we didn’t know until afterwards was that it doesn’t matter where it happens. It just matters with who it happens with. And Cole—Cole was perfect. “Most of our firsts were here. I’ve always felt safe here. For the longest time, it was the only place I felt safe. But at some point, I realized it wasn’t necessarily this place. It was because of you. You were always here, waiting for me, waiting to take away all of the bad shit that had happened that day. You washed it away. Cleansed me of him,” I say with all of the gratitude I possess.

  “Except that night.” He whispers. I turn to look at him, and am finally able to meet his eyes. His sad, tortured eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. I wasn’t here that night. I wasn’t there for you that night. You were here for hours, alone after what he did to you. And where was I? At a fucking baseball game! You say you love this place, that this is your safe place. Well, this place is my hell. My failure. That’s why I never wanted to come with you here whenever you took the kids. All I see now when I come here is your face from that night. You looked broken. So fucking broken, I didn’t think you would ever be repaired. And it was my fault.”