I woke in a panic, trembling and alone. I only needed one text, just one, something telling me he was okay. I thought about what Kevin had said, about texting Matteo one last time—about giving myself some closure. The nightmares were evolving, flipping from one stressor to the next, I had to try and resolve some part of the problem. Maybe closure would help. Sitting down at the dining room table, I began to type out the words, reading them back to myself for over forty minutes before actually sending the message.
Me: I’ve sent you a text nearly every day for the last seven weeks, but today, I’m done. This will be the last message you ever get from me. I’m moving on. I know in time, living without you will get easier. I can’t wait for that day.
For a while, I sat staring at the sent words, willing him to respond. But he didn’t, and for days more the message stayed green in a pile of others that didn’t have responses. I had done all I could. I had spent nearly two months crying, begging, texting, and yelling. Our time apart had almost outlasted the time we’d spent together. I pulled up his contact on my phone, then hesitated on the delete button, until I finally pressed confirm. Matteo De Luca was no longer a part of my life. Moments later, my phone buzzed.
Kevin: Meet you at 7?
Me: I’ll be there.
I hadn’t had much time to catch up with Kevin at work this week. Since I’d taken back over at the shelter, he’d gone back to his routine except for a few surgeries and drone work. When I arrived in the city, Kevin was standing on the sidewalk in front of the marquee pushing aimlessly at his phone. He was dressed in a black suit that defined his fit body with a thin black tie hanging below his neck.
I snuck up beside him, “Hey! You look all fancy!”
He jumped, then tucked his phone into his pocket. “Hey, you don’t look half bad yourself,” he said, leading me into the theatre with his hand on my back. Matteo flashed into my vision—he’d touched me the same way. I ignored the tick.
“So, have you seen this show before?”
He looked towards me then away again as we walked into the casino, “No, but I hear it’s great. I’m not much of a play guy. These tickets were my sister’s idea. I thought we should take a cooking class or something useful.”
“Plays are useful right? It’s culture.”
“No—not like learning how to make a good meal or learning a home improvement skill.”
I laughed, though I knew he wasn’t kidding. “Well, I’m glad she canceled!”
Handing the tickets to the woman at the counter, we made our way into the theatre and found our seats. I’d lived in Northern Nevada nearly all my life, but I’d never been to this theatre. It was bigger than I’d thought it would be with multiple levels and a large stage with rich velvet curtains hanging on each side, though the seats seemed closer together than I thought they should be.
Kevin adjusted his long legs sideways, brushing them slightly against my bare knees. “Sorry… not much room.” I shifted, trying to move from the touch of his body, but there was nowhere to go.
The lights went down and music began to play. I looked towards him, darkness highlighted his sharp features and brought attention to the leather and cinnamon scent he wore. In this light, with the slight touch of his leg against mine, I lost myself. I’d been honest with myself about how sex had become an addiction, but I hadn’t grasped how serious it was until Kevin’s slight touch and scent lured me in like a wild animal.
After the show, we stepped from our seats back into the aisle, walking back through the smoky casino to exit the theatre.
“I have some drinks back at my place if you’re interested.” He fumbled with his jacket as he spoke, detracting from his words. There was uncertainty with Kevin; I wasn’t sure I liked it. He was shy and always focused on work—I was admittedly needy. Though, I suppose that was something I should work on.
Filing through my purse for car keys bought me a moment as I pretended to concentrate on the small task. “Sure, I could do one drink.”
Kevin’s apartment was a short walk from the theatre, near an old record store by the river. We took the elevator up to the thirteenth floor and entered a penthouse suite surrounded by windows. I thought again of Matteo and our list of exploits—of the night we’d spent fucking in front of strangers in a high rise. Greeting us at the door, two large dogs, still excited despite their age.
“Well, aren’t you the cutest babies ever!” I said, bending down to scratch the lab mixes behind their ears.
“Sorry, they’re always too excited for company. Red wine okay?”
I nodded, overly focused on the dogs. “This is fantastic! How did you get a place like this? I mean, not that you couldn’t get a place like this, but it seems expensive. I mean, it seems… you’ll have to forgive me. I’m more in need of this wine than I thought.”
He stayed focused on the wine fridge, though I could hear a slight laugh in his tone. “That’s fine. I do okay for myself.”
Heat rushed to my face as I scratched the yellow lab mix behind her ears, “That is not what I meant. I’m so sorry.”
He met me at the window holding two tall glasses of red, handing one to me, then shut the lights off with the remote control. “I hope you don’t mind. I like to sit here and watch the city.”
Colorful lights streamed in from every direction along the riverside: small shops with garden lights, large casinos with bright flashing lights, and short curved streetlights, all lining the river walk, bouncing ambiance into the apartment.
Kevin backed up into the sectional, crossing one leg onto the other, stretching his arm across the top. I followed his lead, sitting equal with the tip of his fingers, staring out as a gentle rain began to fall.
He was awkward, his movements tiled as though he were buffering, “You look stressed, everything okay?”
I felt terrible, always spilling my guts, letting Kevin be my therapist. “I’m good, a lot better than I was.”
He looked at me with his head bowed, his eyes slightly narrowed, “Are you sure? You seemed distracted tonight. Did you send him the text?”
“I did, and I deleted his number. I’m obsessing over his safety now, but I’m sure only giving him excuses.” I pulled at my hair as I spoke, then straightened my shoulders and curled my feet into the couch, focusing my eyes on the rim of my glass, “Sorry, I don’t have a lot of people to talk to.”
“Don’t be sorry. I get it. Vanessa and I were together for eight years when she left. I haven’t trusted many people since.” He looked away, swishing the wine before swallowing. “If it helps… chances are, he’s fine. I spent way too many sleepless nights worrying about Vanessa. It turns out… she’d shacked up with someone else.”
I acted as though I’d thought of the scenario, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t yet let myself think of him moving on, touching someone else, caring for someone else. The concept made me cringe, but I put forth a straight face.
Kevin tipped the side of his head into his hand, still leaning against the back of the couch. “I wasn’t sure how to say this earlier… but I have a daughter.”
I tried not to bug my eyes, though I’m sure it happened. “A daughter? When did that happen? I mean… how old?” I was putting my foot in my mouth at every step.
“She’s five, about to be six. Sophie.” Fumbling with his phone, he pulled up a photo of a chubby-cheeked girl with crooked teeth and tight ringed hair. The copper color accented the freckles popping on her nose as she smiled widely with a picture she’d drawn.
“She is beautiful—and looking extremely happy! Do you still have to see Vanessa then? After everything?”
His lips were still tight as he shook his head. “She hasn’t been back in over a year.”
Again, I tried not to look shocked. “A year? What about Sophie? Does she visit with her?”
He looked down, shaking his head. “No, Vanessa just left. After eight years, she was done. Since, she’s had a baby with a doctor I worke
d with in Ecuador.”
I wanted to rage for him, find this woman who had the nerve to leave this sweet little girl and kick her… hard! “Wow. That’s heavy. I’m sorry. Here I am going on and on about nothing and you have all this happening. Where is she now… Sophie?”
“She stays with my parents a few days a week, gives her a little diversity. A woman’s perspective.” Pain washed over his face, and his bottom lip began to quiver. He forced it to stop and made abrupt eye contact. “It’s hard, but it’s what we have, and that’s okay. We are making it work.” Standing, he walked back to the kitchen and began pouring another glass of wine. “And please, don’t feel bad for me. We’re figuring it out.”
“I don’t feel bad for you. I feel angry for you.” Meeting him in the kitchen, I held out my glass for a fill.
He sighed, taking a sip of wine. “Anger doesn’t do anything but make life harder. I have to smile and be happy for Sophie.”
“Well you are impressive, to say the least. I can’t imagine going through all these emotions with a kid in the mix.”
He sighed, “It’s probably made things easier. Without her, I’d have dissolved. With her, I have no choice. I have to pick things up and keep going. You would do the same. I’ve seen the way you are at work.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re professional. You keep yourself together. You don’t fall apart.” He took another drink, “You ever think about wanting kids?”
I’d taken to running my finger along the top edge of my glass, but his question pulled me out of the motion. I’d always wanted children, though now the thought of them made me think of what I’d missed out on with Matteo. “I’ve considered it. In the right circumstance.”
He looked towards me; his eyes narrowed. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Imagining life without the person you thought you’d have all these experiences with.” The glass again touched his lips. “It gets easier. Just takes time.” There was a confidence in his statement that I believed—an algorithm that solved everything—time.
“How much time? How long does it take?” I asked the question as though he were a seer, and I a disheveled wanderer.
“Well, it’s been a year and I’m better than I was, but I still have bad days.”
I knew no one had the answer, but I wanted a date. A date and time that would for sure mean Matteo would be erased from my memory. On that day, my heart would stop aching, I would stop thinking about him, and life would go on.
He emptied the last of the wine behind his lips then looked up at me, his voice lowered. “We could help each other forget.”
The whites of my eyes sprawled from beneath their sheath, as I felt a slight dampness fall into my panties. I didn’t take Kevin for the type to be so forward, but I was horny as hell, dying to be bent over and fucked. “Yeah… we could do that.”
Though, instead of walking towards me, he walked towards the bookshelf, gathering a box from the top. “You play Scrabble?”
I pulled my head back and squinted my eyes, thinking maybe the word Scrabble wasn’t coming through clearly, or maybe it was some erotic game of Scrabble I’d never heard of. But when he placed the box on the counter and began shaking the tiles in a velvet bag, I knew it was actually Scrabble. A game I would now play with my clit throbbing against the wooden chair.
“You’re quiet. Should we listen to some music?”
I nodded; he was clearly incredibly in-tune with everything I needed.
Chapter Sixteen
Kevin
My mom had taken to dropping off Sophie after church on Sunday. I didn’t carry the tradition with me as an adult, but it was something my mom enjoyed. And Sophie enjoyed it with her, so I left it alone. When they arrived, Soph was neatly dressed in a pink dress with a yellow bow twisted in her hair, a Tupperware filled with monster cookies grasped in her small hands.
“We made these, but Grandma says Grandpa can’t have any. So, I can bring them to you.” She beamed when she spoke, as though her world were perfect. Her biggest regret—that she hadn’t left behind any cookies for Grandpa. When she was with my parents, or at school, it was easier for her to forget her mom, because her mom was never supposed to be there. But when she was home with me, I was a constant reminder.
I glanced up at my mother, standing in the doorway, her short gray hair neatly tucked behind her ear. She was sixty-two, and despite her hard lines and disciplined attitude, she was soft with Sophie. Sweet in a way she’d never been with me or my sister.
“How was the date?” she asked, with one eye on Soph the other on me.
I rubbed the back of my neck, “I don’t know if it was a date. We just talked and played Scrabble.”
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned down to kiss Sophie goodbye while shaking her head, “What are we going to do with your father Sophie girl… what… what… what…?”
I kissed her kindly on the cheek as she left, though I found myself annoyed at her comments. For the past few months, she’d been bothering me to look harder, to put myself out there. Because according to my mother, that is what Sophie needed, she needed me to ‘Mother Hunt.’ But I wasn’t that kind of guy. I was awkward, quiet, not romantic in the least. And I wasn’t into haphazard dates with random women. I found the whole thing exhausting, but I’d been trying to put myself out there because I knew my mother wasn’t too far off—Sophie and I both needed a woman in our lives.
I’ve known Hannah for over ten years, but we’d never spent any ‘real’ time together. We’d both been in committed relationships before. Though, I’d always admired her. I knew she went out of pocket for a lot of surgeries at the shelter before the influx of billionaire money. And she’d always been more than kind to the volunteers, offering them homemade brownies or cakes thanking them for their help. Also, her advice on the drone had been invaluable. She knew her stuff, and she was proud of what she did.
It also helped that she was attractive. Some men are into breasts, butts, or hair. But me… I went wild for lips, and Hannah Adams had some of the most delicate lips I’d ever seen. They were lush and full, pink and always wet. I wasn’t sure if the attraction was mutual. It was probably stupid that I kept asking about Matteo, but I was trying to relieve her stress. I’d been in her shoes. I knew what it feels like to be abandoned. Plus, she needed to see that he was the reason her life had gotten off track. Either way, she was down to earth, and open as the Sunday paper. I wasn’t left to guess what she was feeling, wondering if she were trapping it all away as Vanessa had.
I poured dry pasta into the boiling pot and glanced over at Sophie, now coloring at the kitchen bar. “What are you coloring Soph?”
She peered up at me for a moment, then back down at her drawing. “Grandma said if I try hard enough, I can have whatever I want.”
“Yes, that’s true. You can have whatever you want. You just have to put a lot of effort in and keep trying even when you fail.” I turned back to the pot, stirring the boiling noodles. “What is it that you want?”
She took a moment to answer, coloring in the rest of her picture as I started mixing a cheese sauce—then held up her picture in my direction, “I want Mommy to come home.”
I should have seen that coming. I’d been distracted. “Who needs a mom when you have a Super Dad?” I smiled an eerie full grin even I didn’t believe, then scooped her up and began flying her around the room. “Do you know what I wanted Sophie? Do you know what I tried really, really hard to get?”
She looked up at me from the couch, the stars in her eyes still present. “No Dad, what?”
“You. I wanted you more than anything.”
A smile lit her face, “I bet you had to try really, really, really hard to get me.”
I pulled her soft head in, squashing the copper ringlets against my chest. “Let’s eat.”
Some days, we had plenty to say. She would go on about Kindergarten, filling me in on the drama of Ms. Jenkin’s classroom, the trouble with
Becca, who wanted to hide under the monkey bars ignoring everyone else when they just wanted to play. And some days, we would sit in relative silence, struggling for words. Tonight, I learned Becca had finally stepped out into the jungle and moved towards the slide. A significant progression for the second month of school. We finished dinner, took a bath, read a book, then settled in for the night.
With Sophie asleep, I began working on the software. I wrote and rewrote codes, trying to make Hannah’s idea for the vital display work. I was still bothered by what Sophie had said earlier and wasn’t having much luck. I pushed back in the office chair, letting it spin me towards the door, and began self-reflecting. In a year’s time, no one had piqued my interest like Hannah. I had to put myself out there, see what, if anything would come of this. Pulling out my phone, I fumbled with the contacts, scrolling up and down past her name multiple times before clicking to send a message. She replied right away.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah
I saw Matteo, sitting alone at a long solid wood table. Each beat of my heartfelt stalled as I looked in his direction, willing myself not to scream, run, take him. The room was large, comprising of an array of shelves one after the other — each with stacks of books lined and organized neatly. There were pockets of people strewn around, all minding their own business, all silently working on their tasks. Matteo caught eyes with me, climbing his strong muscled body from the chair. He moved towards me with a purpose I’d missed as his eyes stayed narrowed on mine. I watched as he continued towards me, his chest popping beneath his white button-down, the scent of cedar and citrus becoming stronger the closer he got.
I didn’t wait for his invitation. Instead, I tore off my dress, offering him every cell on my body upon arrival. He touched me, his clothes now instantly gone, turning my skin to gold as he ran his fingertips along the edge of my breasts, my elbows, my collarbone—then down the small of my back before he bent me into a shelf of books. Lifting my ass, he groaned with a heavy thrust, grasping my hip and shoulder for leverage. My eyes rolled back as his solid sword fought within me, thrashing against the edges of my universe, searching for a place to plant a seed.
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