familiar.
His body trembles against mine as he’s brought down, hot and sweaty. He trails his face against mine and searches for my mouth in the darkness.
And then, he presses his lips to mine again.
I’m on the verge of tears when I say goodbye to Edward. And as I make my way up the steps of my house, I’m officially sobbing.
As soon as Gwen sees me, she wraps me in a big hug. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I cry. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”
She jerks away. “Then, what happened?” She almost begs me to tell her when she pleads, “Please tell me, sweetie.”
I turn away from her. “We…” I can’t say the words out loud. “Are the girls sleeping?”
“Yes,” she snaps. “Now, tell me what’s wrong?”
She obviously has no intention of letting this go.
I walk to the living room and crumble on the sofa, my face buried in my hands. “I just realized something terrible.”
“What?” she asks as she kneels on the floor, next to me. “What?”
“As long as Weston exists, as long as he’s alive…as long I’m alive,” I say, the words soft and surprisingly even. “I will always want him.”
She sighs and takes my hand in hers.
The tears stream down my face, onto the yellow cotton of my dress, onto her hands, but she doesn’t let go. “As much as I tell myself I won’t be with him again, that I’ll stay away, I just can’t seem to.”
I try to make her understand. I don’t want her to think I’m just some sex-crazed tramp. “I tried so hard. I was so good.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she breathes. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I don’t know what to do. I love him, Gwen.”
She cocks a brow. “Do you really, Mirella?” she says, playing the devil’s advocate. “Or does he just make you hot? Think about it, ‘love’ is a strong word.”
I shake my head. “I do love him, Gwen,” I try to explain. “Like you love someone who means a lot to you, and it’s not necessarily sexual. But you’re right, every time I see him, I want to jump him.”
“Do you see yourself growing old with him?” she asks. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him?”
I don’t even need to think about it before I answer. “No, I see myself with Gabe. It’s always been Gabe.”
Her big bright smile almost blinds me when she says, “Well, then it’s settled. You’ve made your decision.”
I look up at her, my eyes drenched in tears. “I have?”
I’m still so confused.
She bites her lip, her mind at work. “Now you just need to put some distance between you and Weston.”
“What do you mean? Move?”
She winces a little. “If that’s what you need to do.”
I chew my bottom lip, thinking about what Gabe had told me, about the opportunity down south.
“Don’t leave a forwarding address,” she says. “Change your number, your email.”
“But he’d find me. And I can’t keep his baby away from him. He has rights.”
She blows out a huge breath, and stands to her feet “You’re right,” she concedes, trailing circles around the living room. “He does have rights to the child. It’s quite a pickle you’re in.”
“I-I told you,” I croak out. “It’s hopeless.”
Weston calls me the next day to let me know he’ll be in Los Angeles on business for a few days. He tells me he’ll miss me and I don’t say a single word. I’m not quite sure what to say. We never talked after we made love. I kind of dashed out of there in a hurry. I told him I needed to get back to the kids. But in reality, I just wanted to avoid the ‘conversation’. I didn’t want to admit I’m not planning to move in with him. Guilt washes over me as I contemplate my actions. I’ve completely deceived him. Sleeping with him was such a bad decision, but I just wanted to be with him one last time. And hell, I’m full of bad decisions lately. I seem to be on a roll. And everyone in my path is getting hurt. I do care about Weston a lot but I need to make a decision — the right decision, for all of us.
The sky is dark, the darkest shade of grey.
I am seated at a small round table, my shoulders straight, my back stiff. On the table sits a flickering candle, a bottle of red and two wine glasses. The white linen tablecloth is soiled. My wine