He jumps up, pulling me with him. I wave, shoved out the door playfully by a laughing Devin.
“Fuck,” he grumbles as I open the car. “Get in the back seat. I need you now.”
He throws the back door wide and shoves me inside, slapping my ass as I crawl into the seat.
Crap, the windows aren’t even tinted.
Oh well.
Devin crawls in on top of me, closing the door behind him, and making quick work of getting my clothes out of his way.
In a second, my thighs are thrown wide and he’s bent over me, pulling my body up to accept his into it.
I arc off the seat at first contact, gasping at the sweet relief I feel when he enters me. He groans and swears around my name, leaning over to kiss me as he thrusts me into oblivion one more time.
He growls from his chest when I moan his name, fisting his hair, bowing into his body.
I’m so addicted to this that I’m ashamed to admit how empty I would feel if I had to give it up.
Heavenly pressure starts to build in my core. He must sense it, knowing my body well by now. His movements change, pulling the climax slowly from my center, and it shatters me.
I writhe; he forces my eyes to his. “Say my name,” he grits.
“Devin, please, Devin!” I whimper.
“Fuck, Cora.”
At that moment, the door flies open. I’m granted an upside down view of Andrew, staring at me with Devin so deep between my legs it’s got to be enraging.
Shit.
I make an attempt to scramble away, unwrap my legs from Devin’s torso.
Oh God, Oh God, this isn’t happening.
“Get the fuck off my wife,” Andrew growls.
This is going to be bad.
Devin blows out a breath and pulls out, making a bit of a show of tucking himself back in.
Andrew grabs me by the arm and physically pulls me out of the car, half naked. I stumble, falling to the warm concrete. He jerks me to my feet almost violently, rips his shirt open and shakes it off, throwing it around my naked hips all while looking at me with fire in his eyes.
I’m so stunned that I don’t have the presence of mind to be humiliated, at least not right away. It comes though, fast and hard as Devin climbs out of the car. I hold the shirt around my waist, my chest growing ever tighter as my face burns with humiliation.
This will be the end of Andrew and me. That’s not what I wanted, but I don’t see how he could ever look at me the same way again. He’s going to hate me.
This is not what I wanted.
Looking down, my tears hit the concrete, I can’t look up. I can’t look into his face, not after this.
Chapter Ten
Andrew
“Let’s go.” I grip her arm a bit too hard and jerk her towards my Honda.
“Wait.” Devin reaches for her as he speaks but I pull her back and away from him. “You can’t just come and drag her off like she’s a kid. She has a right to be here,” this blonde dickhead says.
He can’t possibly be talking to me.
I spin, facing ice blue, pissed off eyes. I come just short of jabbing my finger in his face, my other hand still holding a tight grip on Cora, who is trembling.
“Fuck you. I’ve spent years loving her! You think you can just come along and screw her in a parking lot and think you’re something? Go to hell.”
He regards me as if I’m a fly, buzzing around him before he turns to her to address her.
“Cora, stay if you want. You don’t have to go with him.”
Cora looks between us, holding my shirt around her waist with one hand. Shaking in my grip, she meets my eyes only for a moment before looking to the concrete.
“I think I need to go and calm Andrew down.”
Devin’s gaze shifts from her to me, and narrows. “She said my name, Andrew.”
I look up, my hand of the passenger door of my car. I pull it open and glare at him.
“What?”
“When she came just now, she called my name. She’ll come back to me.”
Cora lets out a soft squeak beside me, and grabs my forearm and squeezes it gently. I resist the urge to pull away, eager to get away from this place. I clench my fist, the urge to hit him is almost too strong, but I swallow it, flip him off, and put her in the car.
It isn’t until we are on the highway that I dare glance at her. She’s crying softly, watching me. Huddled as far against the door as she can get without falling out of the car. Reaching for my arm, she says my name. I jerk away.
“Don’t touch me with hands that you just touched him with. Don’t ever.”
Cora withdraws, a broken sob on her lips.
She even looks beautiful when she’s crying.
There are so many things I want to say to her. I want to hurt her, be hateful, and call her names.
I can’t. The pain in my chest swirls with the sickness and the love and desire and I can’t make myself say them, not even now, when I’ve caught her doing something like this.
“Just don’t insult me by telling me that you’re sorry,” I finally say, quietly as I pull into the driveway of our home.
It used to be our home.
She looks surprised when I get out and follow her inside. She must have assumed I was dropping her off.
“Go take a shower.”
She blinks at me.
“Pardon?” her voice quivers.
“I can’t be near you when you smell like… him… go.”
I kick my shoes off. Confusion lights in her pretty, red rimmed eyes and she disappears up the stairs.
I want to hate her so much it makes me sick. I hear the water running in the walls, telling me she’s in the shower. Heading upstairs, I head for our bedroom.
Walking into this room creates a firestorm of emotions inside me. Our bed. She loves this bed. We bought it together. I remember being dragged over to see it in the furniture store, her begging even though it was out of our price range. A big, four-poster bed made of light-colored maple. Of course I caved. I remember the first time we made love in this bed. I remember her teasing me about tying me to the posts on my birthday one year, and then surprising the hell out of me when she actually did it.
The memories we made in this bed, in this room. Now all tainted with him. She allowed him into our bed, where I looked into her eyes and told her I loved her.
Nausea rolls in my stomach and my eyes burn.
I press my fingers into my closed eyes, trying to relieve the pain and I see her, laying in that backseat, legs up, and staring at me with the color drained out of her face.
I knew she was with him, but I sure as hell never wanted to see it in action. We might not be able to come back from this. I just don’t know if I can ever reach out and touch her and not wonder if she’s thinking of him. Comparing us.
My head pounds. The headache and exhaustion hits me like a wrecking ball, forcing me to sit down on the bed.
The shower cuts off, and a few minutes later, she enters the bedroom combing her dark hair, wearing black and white pajamas. She looks at me with a puffy face, but doesn’t ask me why I’m sitting on our bed.
“Andy, I’m-”
I look up, unable to hide the damp in my eyes.
“I told you, don’t. Don’t tell me you’re sorry, I know you’re not. Cora, how can you do this to yourself? He has no respect for you. I fell in love with you because you weren’t like all the other women I knew, you had standards. This isn’t you, I don’t get it.”
Shame darkens her face and she looks away.
“I don’t know how to talk about this. I’m so ashamed of what’s happened, I can’t stand to look at you.”
“You should be ashamed, Cora. You know, I haven’t slept in days. I’ve been so twisted up over you, I’ve made myself sick. My boss threatened to fire me because I didn’t even show up to work today. How can I go on pretending that life just carries on when mine has stopped?”
I look down, not wanting her to
see the emotion on my face. My eyes blur, watering thanks to the agony that I’ve been struggling to withhold since I found out about this.
“Oh, Andy. God, I never wanted this… I don’t even understand what’s going on myself. Do you hate me?” her voice shakes.
I look up and meet moist brown eyes that I love so dearly.
“It would be so much easier if I could.”
She shifts, eyes darting as if she doesn’t know what to do, where to look. I don’t want to ask her what I want to know. I don’t think I can stomach the answers.
The letter I left for her crosses my mind. I wonder if she got it. If so, I’m a fool. She read it and I poured out my heart as best I could, and she took it and forgot it, going to sleep with what’s-his-name.
I don’t even know his name.
“I’ll stop.”
The words are so soft that I barely hear them. Lifting my eyes back to hers, I don’t dare let myself hope.
“Don’t bother. If it took this to make that happen, it’s too late.”
She takes a step.
“Andrew, really, I will stop.”
I’m exhausted. Too tired to talk, to fight. I just need to be in my bed, with my wife, one time. Just once. It’s been days since I slept.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. But I need to stay, just for tonight. I haven’t slept in days. Don’t worry, I won’t be touching you.” My voice breaks.
Damn it.
Resting my elbows on my knees, I hold my head in my hands and cover my face, fighting the agony, the tears.
The bed sinks beside me, she sits down, and I feel her gentle hand on my shoulder. Her fingers graze the part of my shoulder left bare by my tank top undershirt. Her touch still sends coals of fire into my veins, just like it always did.
“Andy, I’m-”
“Nothing you say matters. I saw you with another man inside you. You are mine… you were mine. How can I get that out of my head?”
Cora reaches up and touches my face, brushing away my tears. I can’t help but let her, I’ve missed her touch so much.
My eyes start to burn again from the light coupled with fatigue. I sit up, rubbing them.
“I can’t talk about this now, I’m too tired. I need to be in my bed, with my wife, just one more time. Please Cora. I know it’s pathetic but I’m so fucking tired.” Tears strangle my voice.
Tears spill onto her cheeks as she nods.
Maybe I’m a lovesick fool, but I don’t give a damn. Things will be clearer in the daylight.
***
The daylight touches my eyes and for that moment, just that second, I’ve forgotten everything. That calming peace flutters away, even as I find myself wrapped in my own bed, and my wife curled into my chest. Her leg draped over mine, her arm holding me tightly.
The pain comes back, the memory of crying in front of Cora for the first time since I’ve known her.
The knowledge that this may very well be the last time that I wake up beside her.
Opening my eyes, I turn my head and look at her, sleeping. Her black hair has fallen in her face, her lips just parted in a slow, steady breath. The feeling of her skin on mine, her legs tangled with me, as if I’m the one she wants.
It’s only because I’m what she’s used to. It can’t be anything else.
Reaching up, I brush the hair off her face, longing to let my hand linger. Let it drift down her cheek, her neck, to hold her face as I kiss her and tell her that I forgive her and that we will work this out and it will be fine.
To lay here and make slow love to her again, make her forget him.
I’m mad at myself for still wanting her so much. I don’t know how to change that. In my heart, she’s my Cora, forever. I don’t think that would ever change. I’ve loved her since I was fifteen years old, before she even knew I existed. It wasn’t until we were older that she noticed me.
Strange though, this whole thing is eating at me somewhere deep inside, outside of the pain. This is off, and I can’t place how or why. In the few time I’ve seen her, she reverts back to the Cora I know, but when she’s with him, it seems she becomes something different.
Could he be doing this to her? But how? She’s not drugged, but it’s nagging at my very soul.
If only I could find out what it is.
My hand lingers in her hair, and her eyes open as I’m gazing at her perfect face. A face I’d hoped my children would have.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Morning.”
We stare at each other as if neither of us know what to say, what to do.
She covers my hand, the one in her hair, with hers. “Andy, I’m sorry.”
I open my mouth to answer, but her phone rings. She doesn’t move, I do. I reach over her, wondering if it’s him.
“Hello?”
“This is The Provisi Clinic, Is Mrs. Davies available?”
I put the phone on speaker.
“Mrs. Davies, we have your test results, when would you like to come in?”
Cora sits up. “Um, as soon as I can I suppose.”
She glances at me with a strange look on her face.
“I can work you in today at eleven.”
“Ok, I’ll be there.”
I reach out. “We’ll be there. I’m going.”
She hangs up and the color drains from her face. “What? You want to go?”
“Yeah, this was the whole reason we were fighting. It’s why I left, over this crap. I think I should go, don’t you?”
She flushes. “Um, it’s just that… I mean… I can call you and tell you what he says. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”
“Why don’t you want me to go?” I sit up beside her.
“I didn’t say that.” She gets out of bed.
“Cora, enough with the BS. Just tell me.” It can’t get any worse.
She stops, her back to me. “He’s my doctor.”
And there it is. It just got worse. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Your boyfriend,” I gag on the word. “Is your fertility doctor?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“He’s not your boyfriend,” I laugh. “Well, regardless, I’m sure as shit going now. I left over this baby thing and, one way or another, there needs to be closure on this matter. I’m going, and I’m not sending you alone to see him. And you’re finding a new doctor.”
She turns. “But he’s the first one that was able to really find….”
I get off the bed and move to stand in her face.
“I don’t care if he found the cure for cancer. Got that?”
She nods, swallowing.
My first thought as I head to the bathroom is, what am I doing? We are separated. Then I realize, judging by that look, that she would likely do whatever I say to redeem herself after last night.
As soon as I go home, she might run back to him.
Chapter Eleven
Cora
The ride is silent. Andrew pulls into Starbucks and picks up coffee and danish for us both, since neither of us ate. I pick at the gooey treat, having no appetite. Knowing that these two are about to confront each other, yet again, is leaving me more than a little scared. I don’t think Andrew can hold his temper long.
Waking up with him felt like home. I realize after a night with him, as painful as it was, how I’ve been acting. This last week or so, it hasn’t been me. It’s like something else has possessed my body and taken over, leaving my heart and head behind. I don’t pretend to understand it. Lust has never had a hold on me like this before, not once. I’ve always had full control over what happens when I get urges. Something is different this time, and I wish I knew what it was.
Not knowing what the day holds, I glance at him. He white knuckles the steering wheel, as if taking out his aggressions on it instead of me. Waking up with him, curled around his body, made my heart sick. The distance between us, and having Devin around all the time, made me forget how much I miss him, how I need him.
Now it seems that there is an ever-growing gulf between him and me. We are growing further and further apart. I intake a shaky breath, sipping on the strong coffee, cherishing it just because it was him that bought it for me.
I’ve never seen him cry. He wasn’t sobbing or anything, but he looked at me with tears in his gray eyes, because I hurt him. He was devastated, and I did that to him.
After watching him walk out all those months ago, I wondered if I even had the ability to hurt him anymore.
We arrive at the doctor’s office, ride up in the elevator in silence. I chew my nails in the waiting room.
When the nurse calls, my stomach rolls and I wonder if I’m going to throw up.
Andrew takes me by the hand, and I know that it’s more to claim me as his property than to actually show affection. The warmth of his skin still sends coals of hot fire into my veins and currents up my arm.
In the exam room, I stare at the floor. Andrew leans on the counter refusing to sit down as I sit on the table, crossing and uncrossing my legs.
All I can think about is the day Devin had me bent over this same table, and hoping that Andrew can’t see it on my face.
The door open and I suck in a breath. Devin walks in, his step falters when he sees Andrew, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
His eyes shoot to me, he raises an eyebrow.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.” He glances between us with no hint of humiliation or shame.
“Just get this over with so we can leave. What’s it say?”
I chew on my lip, too afraid to speak up.
Devin meets my eyes again, winks at me. Andrew rolls his eyes.
“Oh for fucks sake. Just get on with it.”
“Okay then, MTHFR was positive. Methylene tetrahydrofolate reductase, a genetic mutation. Your lovely body doesn’t process folic acid like the rest of the world. So, you’ve been in all these pregnancies with no folate, therefore your babies die. Easy fix, take methyl-folate and in about two months you will be fine. You can get a prescription or get it in most specialty vitamin shops.”
Andrew and I exchange a look. “That’s all it was? A vitamin?” He smiles. “God all this time, all this bullshit over a vitamin. So she’s okay?” The relief in his voice is unmistakable.
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