my hands, and I grin lazily. My eyes still closed, I breathe deeply, taking in the soft hair splayed across the pillow near my face.
I’m momentarily confused when the scent of a tropical paradise doesn’t register. The scent is familiar, alluring, and amazing…but it isn’t coconut and fruit. In my sleepy haze, it takes me a few seconds to put everything together.
My body stiffens, and I open my eyes to find blonde locks and creamy white skin.
Lily’s bare back rises and falls in sleep.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck! Fuck!
No! No! No! No!
I buried my wife mere days ago.
I buried my wife! I remind myself of the reality I seem to have forgotten.
The tragedy comes back to me, all of it—the cancer, the wedding, the last year, her sickness, her death, and finally, her funeral.
I try to grab on to the calmness of the past two days. Ship. Ocean. Happiness.
It doesn’t compute because all that I recall at this moment is the heartbreak and despair I felt at the funeral.
I think back to the past few days. I remember my mood shifting at the restaurant when I spent the afternoon with my family and Lily. Visions of drinking, laughing, line-dancing, cowboy hats, a shattered dress, and refrigerator roulette return. Then, I experienced two days of denial, living in a childlike fantasy where my biggest worry was how we were going to get a restaurant to deliver our dessert. Finally, the images of making love to Lily come back full force. Although those actions brought me so much pleasure last night, the visualizations are now causing pain and confusion, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I bolt out of bed. My chest heaves, and I pull my fingers through my hair. What the fuck did I do? I buried my wife three days ago!
I look around, realizing I’m in the guest bedroom, I bolt down the hall to my bedroom and grab a pair of boxers and a T-shirt before quickly throwing them on.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Remembering that Lily has been living out of my boxers and T-shirts for the past three days, I grab one of each for her and make my way back to the guest bedroom.
I toss the spare clothes on the end of the bed and watch Lily for a moment before she stirs. She stretches and turns toward me. She’s sporting a heavy-eyed grin that morphs into a concerned frown when her gaze catches mine.
She sits up hastily, worry etched across her face. “What is it, Jax?”
I fist my hands in my hair again. Shaking my head, I peer down to Lily. She’s lying in the bed, her perfect body wrapped in a sheet. She looks like an angel. Her thick blonde hair cascades down her shoulders in waves. Her eyes are wide with fear, but the intensity in them deepens the blue shining up to me.
She is my living dream. Everything I have ever wanted is here, in my house. Yet looking at her now causes a wave of pain to lance through me. It’s so fierce that it makes me nauseous.
Pain, regret, sadness, and guilt—all these emotions are pounding so hard that they rattle me to my core. What have I done? My heart twists as I continue to gaze at Lily. I’m speechless, words lost to me in the depth of my confusion.
“Lily.” My voice breaks as I’m torn apart by a chaos within. I’m trying to decipher everything I’m feeling.
I’m staring at Lily, my soul mate, but looking at her is causing so much turmoil, which is at odds with what my heart should be feeling when I gaze at her.
Last night was wrong. It’s difficult to rationalize why something so incredible is such a mistake, but it is. I feel it. The weight of the consequences from yesterday are too much to bear.
With a shaky inhalation, I mutter, “Lil, I need you to go. I need you to go now.”
“What?” she questions, tilting her head to the side.
“I need you to go now,” I respond with more authority in my voice.
She swallows hard. “Oh, okay.”
I pivot on one foot and briskly walk out of the bedroom. Proof of last night is sprawled across the living room floor—our clothes, beer bottles, a huge bowl of chocolate mousse. I hastily pick up our clothes that are scattered about.
When I return to the bedroom, I find Lily standing, motionless, in the middle of the bedroom. Wearing a look of utter confusion, she is wrapped up in the white sheet like a Roman princess.