by Q. B. Tyler
“I don’t think that you’re weak or stupid, Charley. I think you’re incredibly brave and strong.” He pushes my hair back behind my ear and gives me a sad smile that makes my heart stop.
Is this it? Is he leaving me? It’s too much. I knew it was too much. That was one of the reasons I hadn’t told him. He claims he wants to be this person and yet he’s pushing me away when I need him?
“Do you think you’ll ever feel completely safe if you leave him?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. You seemed pretty sure you could do the same if not better a little while ago.”
“That’s if you want to leave him…which I’m not sure you do.”
“I want to be with you,” I blurt out, and while I believe that’s true, I don’t see how we can make that work. The thought that I’ll never get to be with Will is sobering and it makes my blood run cold.
“Are you sure about that?” He raises an eyebrow at me, as if he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. My lip trembles as I see the look in his eyes. Why is he asking me that?
“Are you not?”
“Charley…” He stands up from the couch and I’m seconds from losing it. “It’s not healthy to go from one relationship of dependency to another. You’ll go from needing him to needing me, and you have to learn to stand on your own. You have to learn who you are outside of a relationship.”
“You…you don’t need me, too?” I ask. I sound pitiful as the words leave my lips. “You saying I need to learn to stand on my own two feet is basically insinuating that you think I can’t. That you think I’m weak.” I slip on my shoes and stand. “Ten minutes ago, you made me feel bad for not telling you, you asked me if I could trust you. And I do! But now that it’s all out in the open I’m suddenly this different person and you don’t want me leaning on you. This is just all too real for you now, right?”
How dare he do this? How dare he make me feel guilty for not telling him and then turn all of this around on me? As if this day hasn’t been traumatic enough.
“That’s not what—”
I put my hand up, effectively cutting him off. “‘I’m not that person.’ Those were your goddamn words.”
“You’re taking what I said out of context, I just mean—”
“You’ve made it perfectly clear what you mean. Maybe you were right. We should stop this. This is all too much for you now.” I pull on my jacket and move to the door. “Somewhere inside of me I expected this reaction, but I held onto hope that you’d surprise me.” I shake my head sadly. “I guess I was wrong.”
* * *
THE TEARS ARE STILL SLIDING down my cheeks. They haven’t stopped since the moment I left Will’s office. As I pull into our garage, the door closes behind me, effectively shutting me off from the outside world, and I take a deep breath. I rest my head on the steering wheel as a pathetic attempt to get myself together enough to go inside and potentially face my husband. I stare up into the rearview mirror as I wipe my eyes, my lip trembling even though it’s captured between my teeth.
I look like shit.
I’m not sure if Will and I broke up but it certainly felt that way and the thought feels like a punch straight to the gut that has left me breathless. Maybe it was true what they say—the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Sure, I have hot, passionate, soul-shattering sex with Will but was that it? Is that enough to completely turn my life upside down? To leave Matt? Despite the fact that he has his flaws, he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve my betrayal after all of the good he’s done.
I make my way through the house, the arduous task of climbing the stairs weighing on me as I don’t have an ounce of energy. I walk into our bedroom to see Matt coming out of our walk-in closet, with his phone pressed to his ear.
“There you are, I was just calling you,” he says walking toward me as he tosses his phone on the bed. I’m shocked by his comment as I can’t remember the last time Matt called me to check on my whereabouts. He frowns when he takes in my appearance. I know despite my dry eyes, they’re still red and glossy with unshed tears. “Hey, what happened? I thought you were okay?” He pulls me to sit next to him on our bed. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
“I’m fine. I just…stayed and talked to Dr. Montgomery for a little while.” I shake my head. “I hate talking about it.” For once, I’m telling him the absolute truth.
“What did he say?”
I sigh. Our conversation has been playing on a loop in my mind ever since I left his office. “Nothing I didn’t already know.”
He nods. “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” he says staring at his packed suitcase in the corner.
I know what this is. I’ve heard it a hundred times. He says that because he knows I’ll never ask him to stay.
“No, you should… I’ll be here when you get back.” I give him a faint smile, as I do my best to appear “fine” and just a bit shook up over rehashing the demons of my past—not devastated over the wrench that was thrown into my future. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And the hidden truth to that statement feels like a thousand knives piercing my heart.
He nods once before he takes my face in his hands. He presses his lips to mine and instead of the soft simple kiss I’ve grown accustomed to, his tongue probes my lips as he tries to gain access to my mouth. I open, welcoming the distraction and the old familiarity of my husband’s kiss, reminding me how vastly different he is from the man I’d spent the last few months kissing. It’s not a kiss that makes my body come alive like Will’s though, and the reminder doesn’t help the ache in my chest.
The kiss goes on for a few moments, and when he pulls away, he has a huge smile on his face. “It’s been too long since I’ve done that.” I only nod, not knowing what to say. He brushes a hair from my face, probably reading my silence as feeling dazed from our kiss. “We’ll talk when I get back.” He doesn’t wait for my response before heading out of the bedroom to the front door. I follow behind him slowly and lean against the wall, staring as he collects his wallet, keys, and cell phone. “I hate leaving you like this.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say before I take the few steps toward him and wrap my arms around him. I’m craving the intimacy I didn’t get from Will, and Matt is willing to appease me slightly.
“I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say and my heart constrict as the words come out.
But I’m in love with someone else.
Once I know he’s gone, I slide down the wall slowly, the events of the day washing over me. As soon as I hit the ground, my tears start to flow. Without the watchful eyes of Will or Matt, I let them fall without fear of questioning. I cry for a good hour letting the pain of losing Will and the old wounds that have resurfaced take over my mind.
After deciding that an hour was long enough to be lying on the hardwood floors of my foyer, I get up and make my way back upstairs to change for a run. I always run when I need to clear my head, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other. I slip on my favorite Lululemon spandex and tank before I’m out the door. I make it to the end of my street when I notice the shiny, silver BMW parked in front of my neighbor’s house. It isn’t uncommon for the people on my street to switch out their cars as often as they change their sheets, but Mitch Thompson is a frenemy of my husband’s, which means I would definitely have known if they had gotten a new car. I shake it off, determined to put my husband and my boyfriend and anything related to them out of my mind.
I turn the corner off my street, and as I pass the other houses, I wonder how many of them are like mine, beautiful on the outside, but broken and damaged on the inside. I continue my route throughout the neighborhoods trying my best to keep my mind clear, but Will’s words continue to creep into my brain.
“I’m not your husband.”
“I’m not who you trust to protect you.”
“You fool around with
me because I make you feel good, and then you go back to your husband who makes you feel safe.”
Is that what I’m doing? Am I using Will for the passion and attention I didn’t get from my husband? I squeeze my eyes together for a moment, trying to stop the twinge of guilt running through me. So, now, on top of feeling guilty for cheating on my husband, I’m feeling guilty for being married as well.
About halfway into my three-mile run, I can’t decide if it’s sweat or tears on my cheeks. I stop, put my hands on my knees, and breathe deeply, my lungs on fire as I desperately try to suck in every bit of oxygen. I turn around and walk slowly as I attempt to calm my heart that is racing from fatigue but also from the tension coursing through my veins. I start back toward my house and I feel a worried frown turn the corners of my mouth down when I notice the same BMW that was parked on my street earlier.
It can’t be the same one, can it? Why would Mitch be following me? Unless it’s not Mitch…
I try to ignore the feeling that I’m being followed, especially in light of the conversations I’d had today, and continue my run back to my house. The last thing I see before I lock the door behind me is the sports car appearing at the end of my street again, where I first saw it.
What. The. Fuck.
It’s almost 9 p.m., when I hear the doorbell for my back door. No one ever comes around the back, with the exception of our delivery man when we have larger packages, and it’s never this late at night. I’m nervous to answer as the feeling of being watched hasn’t totally subsided. I had watched the mysterious car leave about an hour ago but I still can’t shake the feeling. My hand lingers on the handle and I can feel the spark through the door. I’m about to take a peek through the peephole when I hear his voice.
“It’s me, baby.” Those three words send a jolt to both my heart and my sex and I whimper in response.
“Will,” I say softly and bite my lip knowing that if I open the door, nothing good will come from it. I desperately want to be in his arms after what happened earlier but I can’t. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” he says. “I need you. Please open the door, Charley.”
The devil and the angel are perched firmly on my shoulders pleading their cases over what I should do. It doesn’t take long before I unbolt the door to find Will severely dressed down. Dark jeans, a black t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a hat pulled low over his eyes. I immediately feel my body respond to this much edgier look and have to resist the urge to jump into his arms. He looks like the bad boy your mother warned you about and not the intelligent, well-respected doctor you wanted to take home to her.
No, Charley, he doesn’t want this and you shouldn’t want this either.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“No,” I say, blocking his entry.
“Please?” he says lifting his head, his blue eyes clouded with hurt and sadness, effectively ripping my heart wide open.
My eyes trace his face, and despite my anger, my heart constricts.
My pain is his pain.
I step to the side allowing him to pass, and his signature scent that has a direct line with my hormones infiltrates my nose as I close the door behind him. I stand against it as he walks through my kitchen and looks around. “Nice place,” he comments, and I wonder if there’s a hint of sarcasm there. “What I expected.”
His eyes find mine, his blue orbs boring into mine before he removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair. “Why are you here?” I ask him.
“Because I’ve been going crazy ever since you left my office. I hate that we left things like that.”
“We didn’t do anything. You made it abundantly clear how you felt.”
“No. I didn’t.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean what I said. Baby—”
“Charley,” I say correcting him and chastise myself for not using Charlotte. I need to stop this familiar intimacy with him.
He sighs as he drops to one of my bar stools that surround the island in the center of the kitchen. “I’m sorry for what I said. I…I couldn’t grasp what I was feeling. They say doctors are the worst patients…” He chuckles but I can hear the sadness he’s trying to hide in his voice. “I had just watched you break down in front of me and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t touch you, hold you, comfort you. It took everything out of me not to say fuck it and pull you into my arms and kiss away your tears even in front of Wells. Do you know how much it destroyed me to hear that you went through that? I hate that someone hurt you. That…that I couldn’t protect you from that.”
“You didn’t even know me,” I whisper.
“And then Wells…just left you. How could he leave you like that?” He shakes his head and the tears prickle in my eyes. I swallow them down, trying to tell myself I have cried enough today and I need to be strong in front of Will. If I break, he’ll want to comfort me and as confused as I am, I would let him. “I wanted to kick his ass. How could he be so thoughtless?”
“We have already uncovered that Matt can be a little inconsiderate when it comes to my feelings.” Even as I say the words, even though I’ve said them before, they hurt. The fact that I have a husband that doesn’t care half of the time, hurts. Despite my situation, and the mistakes I’ve made, my husband’s actions hurt me every day.
“Still,” he says, “it was like it was nothing, Charley. And then he left the fucking state?”
“He had work.” I shrug because, honestly, I don’t have anything else to say on the matter.
“I would have dropped everything for you, Charlotte.” I divert my eyes from his gaze. He walks toward me and takes my hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I’m sorry for how I handled it.”
“You told me—”
“I know what I said,” he interrupts. “I was wrong to say that. Forgive me. Please.”
“Why?”
He lifts my head to look into his eyes. “Because I love you,” he states firmly, like he’d said it a million times before. “I am so in love with you, Charley.”
My mouth drops open slightly and he gives me a sad smile as if he’s worried this won’t change anything. As if I’ll tell him that it’s too late and it doesn’t matter. “Wh—what?”
“I know you’re afraid to leave Matt because you think that no one will be there to protect you. And I didn’t exactly make it clear that I would.” He looks down at where our hands are connected before he brings them to his lips. “I love you, I would protect you from anything…everything. I would never let anyone hurt you.”
I’m stunned by his admission. He…loves me?
I want to cry tears of both elation and grief. He loves me but…I’m not free to give myself to him completely. He must know my thoughts because he places his hands on my face. “I know you’re in a tough position, and I’m not asking you to make any decisions right now. I just want you to know that I’m in. I’m all in, Charley.”
My teeth find my bottom lip and I chew on it nervously. “Would you like something to drink?” I ask, hoping that the alcohol will calm some of my jitters.
He smiles before he tucks a hair behind my ear. “Can I have a kiss first?”
I stand on my tiptoes as I offer my lips for a quick peck. When I try to pull away, I feel his hands under my bottom hoisting me into his arms. Once I’ve settled, one hand moves up behind my head keeping my lips firmly planted on his. His tongue moves with mine and it feels like home, a welcomed contrast to the kiss I shared with Matt earlier today. His kiss is passionate and aggressive and his tongue is unrelenting against mine as they find their usual dance.
This man knows what I want. What I like. How to make my toes curl with just a kiss.
He pulls away from me and gives me one final kiss on my nose before setting me on my feet. “I’ll take scotch if you have it.”
I nod, moving to my built-in bar in the corner of my kitchen. “I’ll give you a tour later. I need you to fuck me first.” I smile and grab the bot
tle and two glasses with shaky hands. I feel his presence behind me as we make our way up the stairs. My bedroom door is open and once I’m through the threshold, I stop, causing him to run into the back of me, his lips immediately on my neck as he peppers kisses along the length of it.
Can I do this?
He’s already in your house, Charley…drinking your husband’s twenty-one-year-old scotch, my subconscious answers.
I turn in his arms effectively removing his lips from my neck. “Actually, can we go to the guest room?”
He looks at the bed behind me and then down at me before nodding once. We make it to the guest room and I set the glasses down on the nightstand. “Baby, we don’t have to do anything,” he says wrapping me in his arms. “I didn’t come here for sex. I came here to clear things up…to get you back. To tell you I love you.”
“You don’t want to make love in a bed for once?” I’m not sure what it is I want. I know I want him, but we are in my house—the one I share with my husband. I feel out of my element and the betrayal I am committing is more real than ever before.
“I do, but not at the cost of your sanity. What’s going on up here, huh?” he asks, tapping my temple gently, his fingertip grazing down the side of my face and finding my chin. His finger leaves a trail of fire in its wake causing my skin to sizzle.
I pull away slightly, trying to give myself some space for clarity. “What do you think?” I sit on the bed and open the scotch to pour us both a glass. I hand him one and take a small sip of mine. “Am I a terrible person if we have sex here?”