Blurred Lines

by Naughty Aphrodite

"I still do," she admitted.

  "I love you," he said, and she noticed wetness starting to brim in his eyes. "Oh, how I've wanted to say that, Ariana. How long I've waited until I could finally say it to you."

  She loved him still and could feel her ice breaking. "But why did you wait this long to tell me? Why couldn't you tell me this months ago before I walked out of your life, Jayden?"

  "Because I didn't want to pressure you. I wanted you to love me up until now and I'm glad that you still do. And I told you, Ariana. I'm willing to make up for lost time. I'm willing to work for it just so I can gain your trust again."

  She was crying too, but it was from happiness. Without thinking, she reached out for him and they held onto each other. He leaned down, kissing her through the tears that they shared. Everything disappeared and it was just the two of them. Reconciling and gaining back the trust that both had lost. She was finally happy and even if she had forgiven him, he couldn't just come back without working for it.

  And he did. He proved to her that being with him was the best decision she had ever made in her life.

  THE END

  The Neighbor

  Chapter 1

  “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” Gemma moaned, her fingers gripping the lip of the table. She eyed the bowl of odds and ends in front of her, but couldn’t see her car keys. Chewing her lip, she tipped the bowl over, spreading its contents across the dark wood of the table. “Honey, have you seen my keys? I can’t find them anywhere!” Momentarily distracted, she picked out several gum wrappers from the collection of house keys, dead batteries, and hair clips, and threw them in the garbage bin next to the table. She wrinkled her nose. She just didn’t understand how Brandon could chew cinnamon-flavored gum. She hated the stuff.

  “Honey? Brandon?” she called up the hall.

  “You mean these keys?” her husband stuck his head through the kitchen doorway, dangling a palm tree-shaped keychain from one hand.

  “Oh, thank Christ!” Gemma lunged for the keys, giving Brandon a quick kiss on the cheek. “Where did you find them?” she asked, shrugging on her favorite navy blue coat.

  “Where you left them on the kitchen counter,” he replied. “I don’t know how you can lose something as gaudy as that keychain.”

  Gemma paused in her preparations, looking down at the keys in her hand. “I thought it would help me keep track of them,” she admitted.

  “Maybe if it had a LED blinker?” Brandon joked. “Or a GPS tracking chip?”

  “Haha, you’re hilarious.” Gemma rolled her eyes as she started quickly cleaning up the junk she’d spilled on the table.

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Brandon. “I’ve got it. You get to your meeting.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She picked up her briefcase. “I’ll see you for dinner?”

  “I hope so,” Brandon replied.

  “Me too!”

  Gemma was halfway down the front steps when Brandon called her back.

  “What? What?”

  He stood in the doorway, holding the palm tree keychain she’d already forgotten again on the hallway table. “Don’t forget your keys, sweetheart.”

  Gemma groaned and, grabbing the keys, dashed to her car.

  Brandon swept the debris back into the decorative glass bowl with one hand and set it on the table. He caught sight of himself in the mirror on the wall above it and he pushed his sandy hair off his forehead with one hand, shaking his head with a rueful smile. Gemma never could get out the door on time, no matter how high up the corporate ladder she climbed. At least her bosses had always known that her management skills were worth waiting for.

  Fishing his own car keys out of the bowl, Brandon picked up his leather satchel but left his coat behind. Summer had arrived weeks ago and only Gemma considered the sunny July days to be jacket weather. Locking the front door behind him, Brandon went out to his car. Luckily for Gemma, he didn’t start work until an hour later, he still had time to grab a coffee on the way in.

  ***

  The first thing Gemma did that night was kick off her tall black heels. She hadn’t even closed the front door when the first one landed sideways on the rug. “Oof,” she said to no one in particular.

  She set down a pile of folders on the hallway table, next to the glass bowl that had caused her so much trouble this morning, and reached down to tug her other shoe off. She hung up her coat and pushed the heels into the closet after it with her toes.

  She was halfway through gathering up her things when she paused. Putting down the stack of folders she’d been attempting to pick up with one arm, she opened the closet again. After a moment of rummaging, she pulled her car keys out of her coat pocket and carefully placed them in the glass bowl. That done, she scooped up her things and maneuvered her way down the front hall and into the living room. Dumping the folders onto the coffee table, she pulled a notebook out of her briefcase and balanced it on top of the files.

  As the tiny computer whirred to life, she went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She sipped the Malbec slowly, looking out the kitchen’s bay windows at their backyard. July in Indianapolis was hot, and the hedges that separated their yard from the neighbors’ were getting a bit crispy around the edges. But the clematis that Brandon had planted when they first bought the house didn’t seem to mind the heat, and its star-shaped purple flowers covered the patio trellis in a rustling wave. The flowering vine was Gemma’s favorite part of their backyard. Not only was it pretty, but it reminded Gemma of their marriage’s early years when they’d had time for things like gardening…or each other.

  Gemma took a step back from the window and considered her reflection in the glass. She looked every inch the successful businesswoman. Her red hair was sleek, worn back in an elegant French twist, her cream-colored skirt and jacket ensemble was tailored to her slender frame and the nearly-empty wine glass she held had been imported from Italy. Gemma made a face at herself. Her life was good, but still, she missed those earlier years. They didn’t work as much then and, when Brandon got home, she would meet him in the hall. Half their clothes would already be gone by the time they made it -- if they made it -- to the bedroom.

  With a sigh, Gemma drained her wine glass and set it down on the granite countertop of the island, next to a bowl of oranges and Brandon’s favorite sourdough bread. She considered the oranges, her mauve nails resting on the rim of the wooden bowl. But she shook her head and went back to the living room empty handed; it would be impossible to keep the juice off her clothes.

  She slung her suit jacket over the back of the couch and herself onto its cushions. Gently undoing her updo, she propped her head on the pillowed armrest and gave her scalp a quick massage. Her brief moment of relaxation over, she lay back and drew the coffee table closer so that she could reach the files without sitting up. Pulling the notebook onto her stomach, she sighed. She had a long night ahead of her.

  Even though he’d said he’d be back for dinner, when Brandon texted her an hour later to tell her that the meeting with the Chinese investors was running late and to eat without him, Gemma wasn’t surprised. With these prominent new investors coming on board, everyone in Brandon’s office was working even more hours than usual.

  She sat up, shoving her notebook back onto the coffee table. Rolling her neck and shoulders, she scrolled through her contact list looking for her favorite Thai delivery place. As the phone rang on the other end, she looked around at the mess of papers on her table and sighed again. These days it felt like she spent more time with her paperwork than she did with her husband.

  ***

  Gemma was sleeping when Brandon came to bed. Because she had to be at the office so early, it wasn’t unusual for her to already be asleep by the time he got home. Their out-of-sync schedules only made it harder for them to find time together.

  “Hey,” she said groggily, as he sat down on his side of the bed, wearily unbuttoning his shirt. “How did the meeting go?
” Her voice was scratchy from sleep.

  “Hey there, sweetie,” he replied. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “Don’t worry,” she rolled over to get a better look at him.

  “The meeting was fine. The translator was a gem, unlike the last one. It just took forever. So many details to hammer out.”

  “Maria from spin class thinks you’re having an affair,” Gemma told him with a smile.

  Brandon snorted. “I wish,” he replied. “I’d have so much more time and energy for you if that was the case.”

  Gemma smiled. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m busy too.”

  Brandon slid under the covers, resting his head on her shoulder. “When this new deal is signed we’re going to Bali. I swear to God.”

  “That’s what you said last deal,” said Gemma. “But then I had that merger…”

  “This time, it’s happening. We’ve been talking about it for two years. Besides, we could do with a change of scenery. Not to mention some alone time. I can’t remember the last time I saw you naked. And that’s a tragedy if I ever heard one.”

  Gemma chuckled. “Okay,” she said, “this time it’s happening.”

  “You betcha it is,” said Brandon, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good night, sweetheart.” And, with that, he turned over and went to sleep.

  “Good night,” said Gemma. She rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. What Brandon had said had got her thinking. It used to be that they couldn’t get near a horizontal surface without ripping each other’s clothes off. Now they went to bed with a chaste kiss and a little shop talk or, if it was the weekend, an episode of whatever TV show they were watching. Gemma looked over at Brandon and sighed. Even if she’d felt like it, she was too tired for sex tonight. She turned onto her side, pressing her back to Brandon’s, and went to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  Saturday morning arrived bright and sunny, promising a perfect summer weekend. As always, Gemma was up early, too used to her Monday to Friday routine to sleep in. She slipped on her running clothes and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. She loved her Saturday morning runs as much as Brandon loved sleeping in. Like him, the rest of the neighborhood wasn’t awake yet, and she felt like she had the whole world to herself.

  This Saturday, however, things were different. The house next door had been for sale for months but, suddenly, it looked like Gemma and Brandon were getting new neighbors. The movers had parked their van half out of the driveway, blocking the sidewalk -- and Gemma’s way. She frowned. It wasn’t really an inconvenience, but it put a damper on her mood. These runs were her alone time. The whole point was not to have other people in her space.

  Walking around the front of the moving van, she indulged her curiosity and stopped to take a look at the furniture being moved in. Unfortunately, all there was to see at the moment were some stacked cardboard boxes. Just as she was about to give up and move on, a dark-haired man about her age came out of the house. His tortoiseshell glasses and name brand, tight-fitting black jeans made him an unlikely candidate for a mover. He caught sight of Gemma and grinned, waving. “Hey!” he called, crossing the lawn toward her. “Are you my new neighbor?”

  “Um, I guess so,” Gemma replied, suddenly feeling self-conscious about being caught in her gym clothes. Most of their neighbors were new families or retirees, not handsome young men.

  “I’m Matt,” said the man, stopping in front of her, his hand already out.

  “Gemma,” said Gemma with a smile. Something in her stomach flip-flopped unexpectedly. She was surprised. Matt was very good-looking, but he was definitely not her usual style. Unlike Brandon, he was slender and dark, with a short, well-groomed beard and a slightly goofy smile. “We just live next door,” she said.

  “Lucky me,” said Matt. “You and your husband?”

  “Yes, my husband Brandon. We’ve lived here for almost seven years now.” Gemma laughed, thinking about it. “Jeez, time flies, huh? What brings you to the neighborhood?”

  “Work, actually. Head office flew me out here to set up a new branch. They always rent me a place, even if I’m only ever there for a month or so.”

  “That’s nice of them,” said Gemma. “But I bet your family misses you.”

  “Nah,” said Matt with a shrug. “I don’t have one. I’m all on my lonesome. But who knows! Maybe I’ll meet someone here. Gotta keep an open mind.”

  Gemma laughed. “I’ll let you know if any of my friends are looking.”

  “Ha, would you? I’d owe you one. Tell them I make excellent Italian food.”

  “So you can boil pasta?” Gemma clarified with a mischievous grin.

  Matt laughed. “Heard that one before, have you? Fair enough. But I promise I always buy the fanciest premade sauce I can find. You know, one of the roasted garlic and 17 unpronounceable kinds of cheese.”

  Gemma chuckled. “I’ll let my friends know.”

  “Thanks,” he grinned his goofy grin again. “But, hey, sorry, don’t let me keep you. I didn’t mean to hijack your run.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Gemma, “it was nice to meet you.” She paused, considering him. “You should come over for dinner tonight. I mean, if you’re not busy. Brandon’s planning on getting some steaks for the barbecue.”

  “That would be amazing!” Matt replied. “Can I bring something?”

  “Do you even know where the grocery stores are yet?” Gemma asked, smiling.

  “Well, no, but that’s why they invented the internet. I’ve got the salad covered.”

  “You really don’t --”

  “It would be my pleasure. Besides, then you can tell all your girlfriends about what a healthy eater I am.”

  Gemma laughed again, shifting from foot to foot, getting ready to run. “Okay, it’s a deal. Come by any time after five!”

  “Perfect,” said Matt and waved as she headed off.

  ***

  “Hey, sweetie,” said Brandon, looking up from the news. “Had a good run?”

  “Yeah, it was great.” Gemma planted a kiss on Brandon’s blonde head. “Have you met the new neighbor?”

  “Not yet. The movers just left.”

  “I met him on my run. Seems really nice.” Gemma poured herself a glass of water. “I invited him to dinner tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” said Brandon. “I’ll get some extra meat when I pick up the groceries.”

  “Thanks. I think you’ll like him. He’s funny,” Gemma put her glass in the dishwasher. “I’m going to shower. Let me know when you’re heading out. I thought I’d come with you. I need to find a present for Natasha’s baby shower next week.”

  “Sure thing,” said Brandon, watching her walk away. When she’d disappeared upstairs, he rested his chin in his palm, turning to stare out the window. The spandex leggings she wore running used to drive him wild. He was a tall, well-built man and when she came home from her run, he would be waiting in his housecoat and nothing else, ready to sweep her up the stairs. It always turned her on to see the muscles of his arms flex as he carried her, his hands tight on her thighs.

  Upstairs, he’d run the shower and strip off her clingy exercise clothes. They’d get in together and he’d make a big deal about how he needed to make sure she was thoroughly clean. He’d cover her body in soaps suds, always paying more attention to some areas than to others. He’d run his hands down her stomach, her thighs, her back. He loved how slick the soap made her skin. She’d giggle and bite her lip and say it was too bad her armpits weren’t sexier because they needed to be washed more than her breasts did.

  Brandon turned away from the window, looking down at his half-drunk coffee. She still looked fantastic in spandex but, somewhere along the line, enjoying a peaceful cup of coffee had become the bigger luxury. He sighed and shrugged, picking up his tablet so he could get back to reading the news.

  In the shower upstairs, Gemma was washing her hair. She massaged her fin
gers along her scalp, enjoying the feel of the soapy water as it slid down her back. She closed her eyes, thinking about dinner that night. It would be nice to have someone new around, especially someone as charming as Matt seemed to be. Absentmindedly, she ran a hand back forth along her breast, her fingertips following its curve.

  She was sure Matt and Brandon would get along. Brandon loved to joke around. Her nipple hardened and she toyed with it, running a nail in circles around its base.

  Plus Brandon wanted a new golf buddy. Maybe he could take Matt with him? She thought about the two of them together, one dark and one light. Her other hand left her hair, running down her stomach to stroke the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

  She wondered if Matt owned golf clothes. His trendy black jeans would be extremely out of place at Brandon’s club. One hand played with her nipple and the other ran along the sensitive edges of her labia.