by Q. B. Tyler
“But you did at some point,” he says sadly.
My face morphs into a look of confusion. “Well yes, we were married, Will. But…once we started, he never touched me. I’ve belonged to you since the moment you kissed me.” I shiver at the mere memory of him sliding through my folds for the first time. “Even before then.” An involuntary blush finds my cheeks, as I think about how my infatuation with my marriage counselor made it so I didn’t even want Matt to touch me.
“Seeing you fuck him didn’t destroy me, Charlotte.”
“Wha—what?” Seeing me? He’s drunk. What in the world is he talking about?
“I shouldn’t have watched it. I should have burned it when I got it. But…I don’t know, call it morbid curiosity.” He shrugs as he lets his head fall, his chin connecting with his chest.
“I don’t understand.” I sniffle as I try to get a control on the tears that are still rapidly falling, hearing him profess his wariness about everything.
Me. Us. Our love.
He pulls a USB drive from behind me that I didn’t realize was sitting on his desk and plays with it in his fingers. I look down at what he’s holding and look up at him. I see pure defeat in Will’s eyes and it shakes me to my very core.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Wells sent me this. Of course, before I watched it, I didn’t know. I should break it.” He balls it into his fist, and I wonder if he’s trying to break the object that seems to have broken him.
“What is it?” I ask, though a part of me, somewhere deep inside knows what’s on this drive and how it might destroy the one thing—the one person I love the most.
“I had to listen to you fuck my wife, how does it feel to watch me fuck your girlfriend?” He looks up at me and I feel the blood draining from my face upon hearing his words. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
My stomach churns as waves of nausea flow through me. “Tell me you didn’t watch it,” I choke out.
“I thought seeing another man fuck the woman I love would be the hardest part. But it wasn’t. It was surprisingly easy. I mean it pissed me off, but you were married. I knew you had sex with him.” He grimaces. “But no, it was the way you looked at him. The way you came apart in his arms…the way you told him you loved him. That destroyed me.”
The tears are sliding down my cheeks as I push myself further into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Why did you watch it!? How!? You’re never going to look at me the same!” I shriek. I don’t hear him reply and that only spurs me on further, my sobs becoming louder and more hysterical. “How could you do this!?”
“What do you mean how?”
“You knew watching this would change you…change us. Why would you do this!? Why didn’t you stop, when you saw what was on it?” I push hard against his chest, needing him to feel my pain. I grip his shirt and my head finds his shoulder.
“I know, Charley. I know. I should have stopped.”
“How long did you watch it?” I say lifting my head, my vision blurry from all of the tears that are constantly brimming under my lids.
“About two minutes. Enough to watch you come.” His hands find his hair and then he looks up at me with sad eyes. “I had to watch him make you come. I’d convinced myself he could never give you that. That only I gave you that mind-numbing pleasure. And then I had to hear you tell him you love him. I watched as the words fell from your lips. I saw the look in your eyes…You meant it.”
“I did love him, Will, once upon a time. Or at least I thought I did. You can’t punish me over the man that came before you. You more than anyone know that I have a past.”
“What does that mean?” he barks, and his aggression coupled with the stench of alcohol surrounding us, makes me wonder if now is the best time to continue this conversation.
“It just means that you know I have a past. You know I was in a relationship with someone else before you.” I shake my head. “Will…don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Push me away. I need…” I wonder what it is I need right now, when the words leave my lips on their own. “I need Dr. Montgomery right now,” I say, knowing that appealing to his reasonable side is the only way to get through this.
“He’s unavailable. You’ve got the insanely jealous boyfriend who watched his fiancé’s sex tape with her ex-husband. Don’t you see how fucked up this is?”
This is the first time he’s called me his fiancé and I can’t even enjoy the feeling that washes over me hearing the term.
“Don’t you see that this is what he wants? To create a divide between us? He’s manipulative and calculating…we can’t let him do this to us. We are stronger than that.”
“I don’t know, Charley…the brick, and then this…what’s next? Is he ever going to stop?”
Goosebumps rise on my skin instantly, the frost from his words chilling me to my bone. My teeth find my bottom lip as I look down sadly. Is he ending it? Is he saying I’m not worth the trouble? My lip trembles and his hand finds my face. He draws his finger along my cheek and my heart skips a beat at the minor contact. “Are you breaking up with me?” I ask quietly, and I hate that I have no conviction in my voice. I feel weak, something I swore I’d never feel again after I left Matt.
I’m stronger than this.
“I don’t know,” he whispers.
I let out a breath, doing my best not to fly off the handle. Trying my best to be the rational one as I understand that he’s not thinking clearly. “You don’t want this.”
“No shit,” he chuckles as he shuts his eyes. “You think I want to deal with Matthew Wells for the rest of my life?”
“I mean…” I start, wanting to make sure we are on the same page about what Will does and does not want, “I mean you don’t want to break up.”
“I don’t know what I want,” he says simply, and those six words feel like they’re enough to slide into those cracks Will warned us about.
I chuckle sarcastically. “So that’s it? Shit gets hard and you walk?” Despite my chuckle, the words that come out of my mouth are anything but funny. He promised he was in this with me.
“Gets hard? Charley, where have you been? Shit has been hard. Or did you forget that he threw a brick through our window? That he recorded our sessions? That he has a private investigator following us. That he sent me a Goddamn sex tape!”
I feel myself starting to spiral, my blood pressure is rising, my heart is pounding so fast it might beat out of my chest, and I’m resisting the urge to scream. My breaths are coming out in short spurts and I feel as if someone is standing on my chest, making it hard to breathe. In short, I’m about to fucking lose it. I move out of his lap.
“You said we were in this together. If you do this…there’s no going back, Will. If you don’t want to fight for me…with me…for us…then let me go. Because I’m not going to go through this with you every time my ex retaliates. It’s been one week and he’s hurt and angry and he’s lashing out. This won’t go on forever. But I’m not going to be in a relationship where I feel like you could leave me the second things get tough. That’s not what I signed up for.” I’m out of his office door before he has a chance to respond.
Do I believe that his “I don’t know what I want” talk is just fueled by alcohol? Yes. But that isn’t the point. Somewhere deep inside of him he thinks those things. It had been a week, and he is already giving up. We are finally free to be together, and he alluded to wanting out. Why did he watch that fucking tape? My fists flex angrily as I think about what I’ll do to Matt if and when I ever see him again. Fucking dick.
I manage to get myself into bed, and as soon as I’m horizontal, the tears begin to fall more rapidly. I wonder how long before he comes to find me and argue with myself on whether I want him to stay away or come to me, wrap his arms around me, and rock me to sleep. I don’t have to wait long for my answer when I feel the bed dip behind me and his arms wrap around me tightly. The smell of alcohol is all around me but the faint smell of
Will is what I cling to. I can’t make out what he’s saying over my cries but he seems to grip me even tighter every time he says something. I’m not sure how long we lie there, him holding onto me like a life raft as he desperately tries not to drown in all of this.
I’m asleep before I figure it out.
* * *
FUCK, THIS IS MISERABLE.
I already know what’s in store for me the second I open my eyes, so I keep them closed for a while longer, mentally preparing myself for the hangover I know awaits me. Those kinds of hangovers where you really can hear light. The ones that cause a pounding in your head so loud it can’t be quieted even by an entire bottle of Advil. The kind where just the smell of food makes you sick. The type of nausea that is so overwhelming all you can do is lie still while you wallow in your self-destruction and the pity. And this was all while being under the age of twenty-five. It’s been years since I’ve been hungover, and I’m waiting for my body to tell me you’re too old for this shit.
Prepared for the nausea, headache, and feelings of self-loathing, I open my eyes just as I feel Charley prying herself out of my arms. Fuck. Nothing could have prepared me for watching her climb out of bed, the tension radiating off of her in waves. My hangover is temporarily forgotten as a new feeling unfurls in my chest. Anxiety. “Baby, come back to bed.”
“I have to pee,” she tells me without another word or glance towards me.
I climbed into bed shortly after she’d stormed out of my office and held her in my arms while she slept, a sense of irrational panic washing over me that she may flee in the middle of the night. I manage to sit up, and I stare at the bathroom door, willing it to open. Charley finally appears, her face freshly washed and her chestnut locks piled in a bun at the top of her head. “Hey.”
“How are you feeling?” she crosses her arms defensively as her brown eyes bore into me.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” I tell her honestly.
She looks at me as if to say serves you right. “How much of that bottle did you put away?”
I can feel my jaw tick, a sense of shame running through me as I think about the fact that she has no idea how hard her words hit me. You have to fucking tell her. Especially if you’re going to be drinking this aggressively.
No, Will. Never again. You swore to a lot of people you weren’t going down this road again.
I’m not.
My mind argues, and a pesky little voice inside of me whispers, “Denial.”
“I’m not sure,” I tell her. Now was not the time to tell her there was a second bottle involved as well.
Having an alcohol problem was like riding a bike. Your body never forgot.
It’s as if my body is suddenly on high alert hearing that word roaring in my brain.
Alcohol. Problem. Alcohol problem.
How do I tell Charley that her stepfather and I have something in common?
Had.
Everything is fine. It’s under control.
I push the beginnings of the breakthrough back down and stand up, my body screaming in pain at every step towards her. “Charley, baby, I’m so sorry. I—I fucked up.”
Her arms which were crossed in front of her chest lower to her sides upon hearing my words and she looks up at me once I’m close enough to touch her as if she’s slowly letting her guard back down. I run my hands up her bare arms, her skin breaking out into goosebumps instantly as she takes a step back out of my reach, her walls going back up.
“No, that doesn’t make it all better,” she says. I open my mouth to tell her that I’m not trying to use sex to beg for the forgiveness I know I need to ask for when she puts a hand up silencing me. “I’m not taking your shit,” she tells me, and my eyes widen hearing her words. “I spent years taking shit from Matt, and I didn’t get myself out of that relationship just to become another man’s punching bag. No. You told me you were different—you told me this was different. And then last night, you tell me you’re not sure what you want? Well, you need to figure it out. Like now, because I’m not going to be in this relationship by myself. You said we were in this together, that we’d face the man that came before you together. And yet the second he attacks, you turn on me? What Matt did was childish, and I’m angry too, but taking your anger out on me was completely unwarranted! That video was from years ago. Before we were even married! Are you really telling me you’re that irrationally jealous?” Her eyes are wide and angry, her hands shaking with how worked up she is. Her nostrils have flared a few times and then she shakes her head. “You said you loved me. Last night, was not love, it was fear. And there’s no room for it here. We are stronger than that.” Her words are sobering, both emotionally and mentally as I feel myself trying to quiet the roaring headache I have.
“I didn’t mean what I said.” I’m not sure if she’s finished speaking but I want her to be aware I want her. That I will always want her.
“I thought it was just the hurt and the alcohol talking, but that doesn’t make your words hurt less. You made me wonder if things were over between us.”
“Never.” I sit on the bed, my head falling into my hands as I wonder how I let things escalate to that. Why do I keep drinking? “I hate being that drunk. I should’ve talked to you. I knew getting drunk would just add fuel to the flames that were burning. I knew I would end up taking it out on you. The moment I said those words, even in my drunk mind I knew, I fucked up.” The words are on the tip of my tongue.
I have something to tell you.
I had a problem.
I have a problem.
I shake the thoughts from my head knowing I am nowhere near the rock bottom I’d hit years back. This was a minor setback, but this was also the realization I needed.
A lack of control triggered my thirst for alcohol. I could usually get it under control without losing control but watching Charlotte with her husband broke my resolve. Hell, it almost broke me completely in that moment.
“How could you watch that?” she whispers as she makes her way to the bed. My body immediately notices she doesn’t sit in my lap like she usually does when we’re seated in the same room.
I’m immediately on edge as I prepare to answer her question. The feelings of dread flood my body as my mind flashes to her tits in his mouth, her cunt full of another man’s cock. Just like that, the thirst was back. I clear my throat, swallowing the saliva that has pooled in my mouth thinking about the bottle of whiskey in my office which still has enough for at least two drinks.
“At first, I think I was in shock,” I tell her, grabbing her hand, desperate for a connection to anything other than the substance that always seems to be there when I needed it. Unlike everyone else that claimed to love me, alcohol never left my side. It never made me feel weak or less than what I was. As a matter of fact, I usually felt powerful, sexy, masculine. It’s a heady feeling alcoholics try to forget.
There’s that word again.
Alcoholic.
“You’re not visible until a few seconds in,” I continue, stroking the soft skin of her hand back and forth. “He was holding the camera and the first few seconds are just—him going in and out of you and then he raises the camera and the first thing I see are your breasts. Ones I’d know anywhere. All I could think was keep them out of his mouth.”
I chance a glance, and her eyes are soft with hints of sadness behind their brown warmth. There’s a hint of pink in her cheeks as if she’s just as uncomfortable as I am. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she whispers. “I’m angry at how you handled it, but, no one was ever supposed to see it in the first place. You’re certainly the last person I ever would have ever wanted to see that.”
“Your eyes.” I start. “I see your eyes and you’re so…happy. I see the lust in your eyes. I recognized the look because you’ve given it to me on so many occasions. Watching you in the throes of passion with someone else, hearing those words…it was a bitter pill to swallow. I know I should have stopped, but I just couldn’t pull away,”
I tell her honestly. Call it morbid curiosity, like when you can’t pull your eyes away from the car accident as you pass it, even though you know you need to keep your eyes on your own lane.
“That was almost nine years ago.” There’s a hint of placation in her tone I wish I couldn’t detect. “I don’t even know who that girl is anymore, Will. I was happy once upon a time, when I married him. But I changed, we changed.” Her eyes trace my face. Eyes full of love and devotion—for me. “I love you.”
“I know you do, baby.” I stroke her face gently, rubbing my thumb over the apples of her cheeks and down her face, dipping it slowly into her mouth. “I love you. I’m sorry about how I behaved.” She moves closer, letting her legs slide over my lap and I relish the closeness.
“Are you going to let this go?”
“Yes. I don’t want anything between us. It just might take me some time to stop picturing another man giving you an orgasm.” I roll my eyes and she scoffs.
“I was probably faking it.”
My eyes flash to hers. “I know what it looks like when you come, baby. Unless you’ve been faking it with me.”
Her brows furrow and within a second, she’s in my arms and I’m on my back. A sense of calm comes over me as I feel her luscious body on top of mine. The apex of her thighs, which is covered with only a scrap of fabric is pressed up against my groin and she grinds down slightly on me making me groan. “I resent that.” She presses her hands to my chest and leans down holding her face just above mine. “I’ve never faked it with you. You’ve known how to make my body come alive with just a look for so long. The second you touched me I was ready to combust. The first swipe of your tongue over my clit I almost lost it. The first thrust inside of me sealed our fate, Will. I’m yours. I don’t care what’s come before you, there’s only you now. And forever.”
“Charley.” My eyes close, the ramifications of last night finally setting in, making my lids heavy with sleep. I open them again, my eyes weaker as sleep looms over my head. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”