Starving Faithful

by Amy Lynn

  I didn’t see Brad again until bedtime. He didn’t bother to come down for dinner, and I never bothered to make anything. He was pissed, and so was I.

  When I entered the bedroom, I didn’t look at Brad as he leaned with his back against the headboard, but I knew he was shirtless and ready for bed. I stripped down to my lace panties and climbed into bed. Brad and I promised each other that no matter how angry we might be at one another, we’d never sleep apart. At the end of the day, we were husband and wife, and our bed was a sacred place we both would share.

  I set my alarm so I could attend church the next morning and turned off my bedside lamp. I wanted to say goodnight to Brad, but he felt so far away. I didn’t like going to sleep this way, but I didn’t know how to break through the awkwardness so I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that sleep would carry me away soon.

  And it did.

  My alarm woke me the next morning, and I quickly shut it off, laying there until my eyes adjusted to the early morning light that filtered brightly through the windows.

  I felt Brad’s presence at my backside, warm and still. Since my confession yesterday, I was unsure how to approach him especially since sex was such a black and white subject for him. Carefully sliding from underneath the blankets, I lowered my feet to the floor.

  “Don’t go,” Brad rumbled sleepily.

  “I need to,” I said, thankful I couldn’t see his face. I don’t think I could have said it otherwise.

  I rose from the bed, and headed for the bathroom.

  “What do you want from me?” Brad asked, stopping me in my tracks before I entered the bathroom.

  It doesn’t matter. You won’t give it to me anyway.

  “Is that what you fantasize about?” he continued on, denying me the opportunity to answer. “In the kitchen, at my office, in the car…?”

  “Spontaneity is my fantasy,” I say still unable to gather the courage to face him.

  “I’m sorry, Ava.”

  Was he? Or was he only apologizing to ease the tension between us?

  Behind me, I hear the blankets shift softly followed by Brad’s light footsteps, barely audible as he crossed the room. Warmth radiated against my backside at his nearness, his breath a light caress on my skin just before his lips touched my shoulder. I closed my eyes, my heartbeat quickening to match my breaths. Lips soft and moist kissed a path from my shoulder to my ear. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “Let me fix this.”

  His hands grasped my hips and pulled me back against him. “I can’t make any guarantees that I’ll do the things you’ve fantasized about, but I can… maybe…I don’t know… promise to try?”

  I twist around to face him, my breasts brushing against his bare chest as his hands trailed to the small of my back. He kisses me soft and tender and although I expect more, I lower my expectations and let Brad come into his own. Brad’s promise to try wouldn’t happen overnight, and patience on my part would be key. It will happen when it happens. If it happens at all.

  Taking me by the hand, Brad led me back to bed, and covered us both with blankets before pulling me against his warm chest. We stayed in each other’s arms, not sleeping, not talking, just enjoying each other, until the rumbling protests from our stomachs became too much for either of us to bare.

  After feasting on a big breakfast, Brad mowed the lawn while I washed both of our cars. Everything seemed to be back to normal, and although what had transpired yesterday couldn’t be forgotten, I only hoped it would bring us closer together, and not be a wedge of resentment between us.

  I went to work on Monday, the bittersweet end in the near distance. Abe had a latte from the corner bistro waiting on my desk when I arrived. It was caramel, my favorite.

  “What’s this for?” I asked holding up the latte.

  “Does there have to be a reason?”

  I hated it when he answered my question with a question. “Isn’t there?”

  He laughed knowing full well what I was doing. “I don’t know,” he said with a raised brow. “Is there?”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “You’re adorable.”

  I swallowed and choose to ignore his comment. “Andrea’s coming back next Monday,” I say to change the subject.

  He looks crestfallen. “Don’t remind me.”

  “You don’t like Andrea?”

  “I like you more.”

  “Abe, we’re friends. You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

  “Actually, the only reason we’re friends is because I do say things like that to you.”

  “Ava?” Mia said from across the room. “Do you know where the Allen file is?”

  “Yes. Let me bring it to you.” I gave Abe a quick look as I left not liking the doubt I saw clouding his baby blues, and got back to work.

  Did he really think the foundation of our friendship was built on the fact that he flirted obsessively and brought me an occasional latte? I really hope not.

  Abe left shortly after, probably to sit in on a meeting with his father. I pushed him from my mind for the time being to focus on my work. Mia’s schedule was full to capacity today, and there was no room for error. It was bad enough she caught me in Abe’s office this morning. Even Ross had given me the stink eye for that one.

  When Abe arrived back at the office around one in the afternoon, he was…different. Angry? I’ve never seen him angry before, but it’s the only explanation that made any sense. Things that most people worried and stressed about in association with their jobs didn’t bother Abram Kent. Not in the least. He thrived under extreme conditions and welcomed any challenge that was tossed his way. There was never a problem or situation to which there was no solution. He was clearly pissed about something.

  Abe’s door was closed for the remainder of the day, which was unusual since he preferred to keep it open, most times, embarrassingly enough, to occasionally catch a glimpse of me. I knew this because he’s told me a time or two. Perhaps even more.

  In passing, I questioned Ross about Abe, wondering if he had any info, but his response was a simple shoulder shrug.

  I debated on whether I should talk to Abe. What if he was angry with me? How awkward would that be? So I kept my distance, for now.

  When I stepped onto the elevator at the end of the day, I hoped Abe would join me as he usually does. But he didn’t.

  It’s been three days since I’ve seen Abram Kent. Would tomorrow make it four?

  I stood in the kitchen on Thursday preparing steaks for dinner when Brad came home.

  “Hey beautiful,” he said as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

  “Hey. You’re late,” I said.

  “Yeah, I had a meeting that ran over. Can I help with anything?”

  “I got it, thanks.”

  After dinner, Brad and I retired to the sofa and indulged in a few episodes of Mad Men. I wasn’t really into the show that much, but it was a small price to pay to spend time with him.

  As Brad and I climbed the stairs for bed later that night, I had a thought. It could go one of two ways: Be the best idea I’ve had all week or backfire terribly and set us back considerably in the small progress we’ve made. Only one way to find out.

  Taking Brad’s hand, I led him to the den. The room was rich with dark cherry wood; tall built in bookcases lined the walls filled with my favorite books, a dark cherry desk sat near the window, and a leather couch rested against the far wall. A patterned rug sat under two upholstered chairs that flanked the fireplace, the red tones setting the room aglow when I switched on the light.

  “What are we doing in here?” Brad asked.

  I put my arms around his neck and brought his lips to mine. “I want you,” I said against his lips. “In here.”

  His lips stilled. He pulled away and took a few steps back holding me at arm’s length.

  “No,” he said.

  “You said you would try.”

  “I don’t need the reminder. I know wha
t I said, Ava,” he harshly bit out. “But I do get a choice in the way I want to participate. If I want to participate.” Brad ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

  I was shocked at how angry he was, and all I could do was stare at the floor.

  “Go to bed, Ava.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Later,” he said, his voice like ice.

  I left without saying another word and forced myself not to look back no matter had badly I wanted to.

  I lay down in bed, my beating heart thumping so loudly I swore it echoed against the walls. Do not feel guilty. I repeated over and over in my mind. The only way he’s going to know what you want is if you tell him.

  I lay awake waiting for Brad to come to bed, thoughts crashing and colliding together at a rapid pace, all to reassure myself that my actions were appropriate.

  Oddly enough, a quote from Voltaire was my last thought before sleep claimed me: “It is not enough to conquer; one must know how to seduce.”

  ******

  I wake with a start on Thursday morning, looking immediately to Brad’s side of the bed, which sat empty and untouched.

  He didn’t sleep here.

  We had slept apart for the first time since becoming husband and wife…something we promised we would never do. This couldn’t be undone. This time, I was responsible for my own broken heart.

  The clock showed just a little after six so Brad hadn’t left for work yet. Grabbing my robe and cinching it tightly around my waist, I bolted down the stairs. It was quiet as a mouse, and Brad was nowhere to be seen. Running throughout the house, I checked every room, smelling the scent of his soap still lingering in the air. Where was he?

  I paused in the doorway of the den, my eyes settling on the makeshift bed, pillow, and fleece throw that lay across the leather sofa. With a sinking feeling growing deeper in the pit of my stomach, I ran for the door that leads to the attached garage and pulled it open, the space where his BMW should have been parked was empty.

  He left without saying goodbye. Another promise broken.

  Tears welled in my eyes. Brad had eaten cereal that morning, his empty bowl still sitting on the kitchen island, the opened box just as he had left it. Water droplets still clung to the glass doors in the downstairs bath, and his suit from the day before rested on the small chair in the corner.

  What have I done?

  I showered robotically, twisted my hair up into a loose bun, too emotional to do anything else, and dressed in all black to match my mood.

  Ross was making coffee when I arrived at the office, “Mornin’, Sugar!” he shouted as I stepped off the elevator.

  Sometimes, he was just too damn chipper.

  “Why so blue?” he asked when my response was less than stellar. “Dent your halo or something?”

  “Or something,” I said filling my mug to the rim. “Is Abe coming in today?”

  “Nope. Mr. Kent isn’t expected to return until Monday.”

  Which means I wouldn’t see Abe on my last day since my status as Mia Hart’s assistant ends today. Perfect. He was avoiding me too.

  “Need me to pass along a message?” Ross asked breaking through my thoughts.

  “No. Thanks, Ross.”

  I busied myself with work but every time the elevator doors chimed open, my eyes followed the sound expecting to see Abe’s familiar face stepping off.

  This time should have been no different as the elevator doors opened, but when I looked up, I saw a familiar face. Andrea exited holding a baby carrier in one hand a diaper bag in the other. She look absolutely radiant dressed in a magenta wrap top that tied at the side, dark washed jeans with killer black heels, her auburn hair straight and sleek.

  Damn. She wore motherhood well.

  “Andrea!” I stood and greeted her halfway. “Wonderful to see you.”

  “Hey! How are things going around here?”

  “Better after Monday, I’m sure,” I say. The ache in my stomach almost unbearable.

  Andrea’s smile faded, “Is Mia busy? I’d like to see her.”

  She’s on a conference call, but should be done shortly.

  “Great, I’ll wait. In the meantime, wanna hold Jack?”

  “Can I?” The anticipation was excruciating as she carefully unfastened the seatbelt surrounding his little body. I cradled my arms as Andrea lay baby Jack against me, my heart clenching at the sight of his little button nose and closed fists framing the soft perfection of his

  cheeks. The first good thing to happen to me all day was tiny and smelled like baby magic and heaven.

  “Andrea!” Mia said as she emerged from her office. “What a wonderful surprise.”

  “Got a minute?” Andrea asked.

  “Sure.”

  Andrea looked at me, a question of, ‘Will you be okay alone for a few minutes?’, and I quickly shooed her away, not wanting the euphoric moment to end.

  Holding Jack in one arm, I went on about my daily tasks of answering calls, filing paperwork, and getting documents together for Mia’s next meeting, pausing every few minutes to savor the sweet new blossom of humanity that nestled against me. Jack’s copper colored hair felt like silk against the tip of my nose, his tiny breath a welcome improvement to my darkening aura.

  “You’re gonna catch the fever,” Ross sang from behind his desk.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Baby fever,” he clarified with his eyebrows raised.

  I rolled my eyes at him. If he only knew about the horrible night I just had with my husband, he’d rethink that whole statement.

  Mia’s door opened thirty minutes later. “Ava,” Mia said from the doorway. “Andrea and I would like to talk with you. Come in and bring Jack with you,” she teased.

  I sat down next to Andrea. She briefly slipped into mommy mode as she took a moment to brush her fingertips across Jack’s soft head. “I’m not coming back,” Andrea announced. Her voice was positive and definite. She spoke so fast and certain I almost missed it. “My job is yours permanently, if you want it,” she added.

  I looked at Mia and back to Andrea, shocked at her statement. “I would love to but… are both of you sure?”

  “We’ve discussed it,” Mia said gesturing between her and Andrea. “Andrea is quite certain about her decision, and I’d really like you to stay. You’re a wonderful fit here.”

  Andrea nodded her heartfelt agreement and said, “Besides I don’t really have a choice.” She smiled devilishly, “My body has gone thru some significant changes, and I can’t have Abram Kent staring at my engorged boobs all day. My husband simply won’t allow it,” she said conspiratorially and winked.

  The three of us burst out in laughter, and just like that, I received the best news of the day.

  At 4:30, I texted Brad:

  I’m sorry.

  At 5:15, I had no reply, so I sent another text:

  I love you.

  5:30, still no reply.

  The thought crossed my mind to just call his office or perhaps drop in for a surprise visit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If he was avoiding me, which I figured he was, I needed to give him his space.

  I continued sorting the stacks of files that Mia would need first thing in the morning, aware that I should have left thirty minutes ago and I wouldn’t be paid for choosing to stay late. I couldn’t bring myself to go home. Not to an empty house.

  Grabbing a few stacks of completed files, I cradled them in my arms to place on Mia’s desk. Mia had left around four this afternoon, her office dark and quiet as I placed the files atop her desk. I didn’t work on Saturdays, but I knew Mia did and she would appreciate the readiness of the files she had to work on.

  Exhausted, I slumped in Mia’s chair. The office was eerily quiet; the only sound a low buzz from my computer and the air conditioning, which I never seemed to notice until now. I rose from Mia’s chair when I caught the time on her desk clock just as the unmistakable sound of the elevator chimed.

  I froze.
Who would be coming in at this hour? Thankfully, Mia’s door was partially closed, and if I needed to, I could lock it in a hurry. My palms begin to sweat as I waited for the person to appear, hopeful that it wasn’t someone with an axe to grind with Mia, or even Abe for that matter. The thought made me go cold and a shiver ran down my spine. With Abe, it could be plausible. What the hell was I thinking staying so late?