by Lisa De Jong
I had an ache in my chest that never let up. The fissure in my heart grew bigger and bigger with each passing day. It would only be a matter of time before my battered heart would splinter and shatter into a million pieces; I’d been trying to convince myself that it hadn’t done that already.
I found it difficult to breathe most days, and found it tough to do even the simplest of tasks. I would curl up in my bed at night, trying to forget him—trying to go to sleep without him creeping up in my dreams. Without fail, I’d fall asleep and he’d be standing there, holding his arms out to me while I fought the urge to run into them.
Several days had passed. I was standing in my office, mindlessly filing paperwork, numbly going through the motions when got the first text.
Chris: I’m so sorry, Salem. Please let me explain.
Did he honestly think he could explain his way out of fucking another girl? I deleted the text, grabbed my notebook off my desk, and walked down the hall toward my next intake interview, trying to remember how to put one foot in front of the other.
It was only a few short hours before I received another text.
Chris: Look, I know I don’t deserve it, but please just give me a chance. Hear me out. Please.
Just seeing his name pop up on my screen messed with my head, so I deleted that text while I tried to convince myself that I didn’t need him in my life.
I was folding laundry in my bedroom, waiting for Alexis to call me to come pick her up from Olivia’s house, when the ringtone that almost brought me to my knees blared from my cell phone. I may have been a glutton for punishment, but after our trip to New York, I’d assigned Chris’s ringtone as “Broken” by Seether. The words of the song reminded me so much of our history, when all I wanted to do was take away his pain as a teenager, and then years later, while he was gone on tour, how broken and lonely I felt without him. I quickly swiped my finger across the screen to ignore the call, not only because I couldn’t bear to talk to him, but because the words of the song sliced through my heart like a hot knife on butter.
Within seconds another text popped up from Chris.
Chris: I understand why you won’t answer my call. I deserve it, but for the record, I’ll never give up. And for what it’s worth, I’m truly fucking sorry. I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I just wish you’d give me a chance to explain.
I stared at the text a few extra seconds longer than the last one before I hit delete again. For a brief moment, I considered forgiving him. But was he sorry for what he did, or was he just sorry he got caught? I couldn’t believe I was even debating it. According to the oh-so-obvious pictures from the tabloids, he slept with one of his groupies, a skank who flung herself at him like an easy lay. He’s not the man you thought he was. He’s just another rock star playboy…exactly like the tabloids had him pegged.
I stomped into the bathroom, tapping my foot anxiously while I stared at my miserable reflection in the mirror. I needed to do something to get my mind off of things. Screw it, I’m going out, I told myself.
Alexis was spending the night at her dad’s, and I had nothing tying me down at home. I called up a girlfriend of mine that I hadn’t seen in months. That was one thing I loved about her. We could go months without talking to each other, but pick right back up where we left off as if not a day had passed. Those were the best kinds of friendships.
“Paige, you think you could ditch the family for a night and have a girl’s night out?”
“When? Tonight?” she asked in her sweet, southern drawl.
I felt almost manic, eager to pick up and leave my anger and bitter disappointment behind. “Yeah. Alexis is spending the night at her dad’s, and I could really use a friend and a drink. Whaddya say?”
“Sure, let me tell Jay,” she said. Then clamping her hand on the microphone to muffle the sound, she yelled, “Jay, I’m gonna go out with Salem tonight, okay? I’ll be home late. You can handle baths and bed, right?” Her voice rang clear again and she confirmed, “Okay, I’ll swing by your house around nine. Wanna hit up The Cellar or Harvest Moon?”
It took me two seconds to decide. “Let’s do The Cellar. And nine sounds great. That will give me time to grab a quick shower.”
So that was that. I grabbed a shower and slipped into the shortest, tightest dress I could find packed away in the back of my closet—something I wore in my younger days that could really turn some heads.
Paige arrived at nine o’clock on the dot. That’s one thing I never had to worry about with her. She was always precisely on time. I always laughed and chalked it up to her obsessive compulsive nature. She claimed it was just a matter of respect.
“Girl, you have no idea how much I need this night,” I told her, hopping into her Suburban.
She swept her blonde bangs out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Why? What’s up? Graham?” she asked, glancing at me with her sympathetic, brown eyes.
The mere mention of my ex-husband made bile rise in my throat. “Yeah, Graham. Life. Chris. You name it.”
“Chris?” She frowned at me with one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. “Chris who? Do I know him?”
Shit! She hasn’t seen the media ramblings yet. I shouldn’t have said anything.
I waved her off. “No, just some random dude I had one date with. Haven’t heard from him since. Kinda gives a blow to the ego, you know?”
“I hear ya, girl. Well, let’s go out and drink that memory away!” She pumped a delicate fist in the air and shook her hips in the driver’s seat.
I laughed at her, remembering all over again why I loved her. “Sounds like a plan,” I said.
We blasted the radio all the way to the bar, singing and dancing in our seats like we were a couple of teenagers. But when we walked into The Cellar, I suddenly felt completely out of my element. The Cellar wasn’t a college hang out, by any means, but it certainly wasn’t for nearly forty year olds either. I felt like a fish out of water.
Paige must have noticed my insecurity because she whispered, “Don’t be intimidated. You’re as hot as any of those twenty-five year olds sitting over there. Hold your chin up, and let’s go find us a hottie to buy you a drink.”
I laughed. Leave it to Paige to calm my nerves. She grabbed my hand and led me toward the bar. The music was thumping and strobe lights were flashing on the small dance floor at the back of the building. I felt awkward as I pushed past the group of twenty-somethings to get to the edge of the bar where the bartender was serving.
“What’ll it be?” he asked. He leaned on the bar, exposing his sculpted biceps sleeved with colorful tattoos.
“Um…” my mind went blank. I couldn’t think. I hadn’t been to a bar in ages.
Paige piped up, “She’ll have a Sex on the Beach.” She pointed a perfectly French-manicured finger at me. “I’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea.” She gave the bartender a flirty grin.
“You got it,” the bartender nodded and quickly began mixing and squirting liquids so fast I could barely keep up.
“Thanks,” I said to Paige. “I don’t know what came over me. I just feel so out of my element.” I felt a little guilty that I couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Through the years, we’d grown pretty close. She was a secretary for the vice president of the investment bank where Graham worked, and she’d seen my marriage come to a screeching halt the day I’d found out he was cheating on me. She’d been there to wipe my tears on numerous occasions, but I just didn’t feel like turning this fun girl’s night out into another sob-fest.
She shot me a look. “Girl, you better get into your element fast because you’ve got some baby blues staring at you.” She pointed one long finger to my right, mouthing, “Three o’clock.”
I glanced to the direction she was pointing and saw exactly to what she was talking about. A pair of crystal clear, aquamarine eyes stared directly at me. And the face attached to those eyes was pretty easy to look at too. His nearly black hair was gelled up in a sexy, hot mess
. He looked like he could have stepped right out of a cover model photo shoot. The sleeves of his plaid button-up shirt were rolled up to the elbows, exposing the thick brown leather band of his watch. He caught my gaze, and quickly nodded once in acknowledgement. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a half grin. Everything about him and those deep blue eyes exuded sexy.
I whipped my head back around to Paige. “Oh my god, Paige, that guy can’t be over what? Twenty-six?” I tried to hide my grimace. I can’t do this. These men are babies.
Paige shrugged her shoulders. “So? Girl, he’s so busy making eyes at you that he obviously doesn’t care. Age is just a number. Stop worrying,” she whined.
Just then, the bartender placed the drinks in front of us. “Here you are, ladies,” he said with a smile.
Paige handed him her credit card. “Thanks. Go ahead and start a tab.”
“I will, but these drinks are courtesy of that guy over there,” the bartender said with a quick nod in the cover model’s direction and then shot us a grin. “Better watch ol’ Blue. He’s a lady killer.”
“Humph.” Paige put her hand on her hip with attitude. “We ain’t afraid of no stinkin’ kid.” She nudged me with her elbow. “Right, Salem?”
“That’s right,” I said with a little less confidence. I was pretty sure Mr. Blue Eyes had already sunk his fangs into me and was drawing me closer with that deliciously, sinister stare.
I admit, I was lonely. I was hurt and frustrated…and lonely. I was out at a bar and my brain was off, while my animal instincts were on auto-pilot.
A few drinks later, I was sitting side-by-side with Blue, leaning toward him like a desperate college chick.
“I’m Damon,” he said with a nod of acknowledgement. An air of confidence exuded from him.
“Hiiii, Damon,” I said, stretching the words in a singsong voice. Flirty wasn’t really the word I would’ve used to describe my tone. Tipsy, horny, and hell-bent on forgetting my heartache described it better. “Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a cocky half-smile.
The cute guy sitting next to Damon leaned in to join the conversation. “I’m Charlie. What’s your name?” Charlie was a little shorter than Damon with green-eyes and brown hair, but just as handsome.
“Oh, I’m Salem.” I pointed a sloppy hand at myself, barely noticing that I was beginning to slur the simplest of words.
“Salem, why don’t you tell your hot friend to come join us?” Charlie pointed down the bar where Paige was checking her phone.
I rolled my eyes, suddenly annoyed by the idea of such a boring commitment, and snorted, “Because she’s married.”
“Damn, they’re always married,” he whined.
“Do you always buy drinks for girls?” I asked Damon, his sea blue eyes mesmerizing me.
“Only the pretty ones,” he said with a wink.
Ha. Right. “You know I’m thirty-eight, right?”
Without a hitch, Damon said, “Even better. I like older women.” He elbowed Charlie in the ribs, knowingly.
Charlie laughed. “I’m going outside to smoke, bro. Hey, Salem, tell your hot friend if she ever gets divorced to look me up.”
I winked. Hopefully only one eye. Hard to tell. “You bet, hot shot.” Clearly, my tipsiness improved my sarcasm.
As soon as Charlie was out of sight, Damon leaned in and whispered, “So what’s a sexy thirty-eight year old doing at a bar with her married friend on a Thursday night?”
Wow. How did I begin to answer that? Even in my drunken stupor I wasn’t dumb enough to mention Chris King. “Just wanted to have a little fun,” I shrugged, wiggling my tongue to get my straw in my mouth.
Damon’s expression screamed his intentions, as he placed his hand on my thigh. “Well, you came to the right place,” he said, low and sultry.
“Salem.” The familiar voice from behind pierced through me, sobering me up in an instant.
I spun around to see Chris staring at me. He looked like a train wreck. Disheveled hair, dark circles under his eyes, jacket hanging crooked off his shoulders. I nearly spilled the rest of my drink down myself. “Chris. What’re you doin’ here? How did you find me?” The words tumbled out of my mouth.
Ignoring my question, he glared at Damon sitting on the bar stool next to me. Damon, who’d just seconds earlier had his hand on my leg, was now leaning away from the scene and looking the other direction.
Finally tearing his eyes away from the back of Damon’s head, Chris said, “I drove by your house and you weren’t there. I figured you were at one of the only two places that stay open past eleven in this town.” Chris’s glare continued to bounce between me and the back of Damon’s head. “I needed to see you. I just needed a chance to explain myself. Please Salem, let me take you home.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, swaying a little on my unsteady five inch heels. “Why should I go with you?”
Damon took our exchange as a hint, easing off the barstool and heading out the back door to the patio. I watched him through the window as he found Charlie and bummed a smoke, never even glancing back.
Chris stepped toward me. “God, Salem. Look at you. What are you doing?”
I wanted to slap that look of disappointment right off his face. What right did he have after what he did? He’s judging me? “What business is it of yours?” I sneered.
“Because I care about you,” he retorted, fists clenched by his sides.
“Care about me?” I seethed. “So you cared about me while you were screwing that whore?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glowered, “Well, if you care about me so much, then where the hell have you been this whole past week? Texts and phone calls don’t mean shit when you betray someone like that. You should have been here, making things right. Why the hell haven’t you been here?” My voice sounded more desperate with each spoken word. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to fight them back.
Chris’s feet were spread apart, fists clenched, heaving breaths causing his chest to rise and fall quickly. “I have been here! I’ve been here all along.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes at him. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” Chris countered. His jaw muscle pulsed as he gritted his teeth
“Really?” I asked again, throwing my hands in the air and looking around as if I were searching for him, but coming up short. “Well, then where the hell have you been? Because I sure as hell haven’t seen you anywhere!” My chest heaved a lot more than I wanted it to. I didn’t want to show him how broken I was or how much he’d hurt me. I didn’t want him to know he’d affected me at all.
But Chris must have seen it written all over my face because he lunged toward me, pushing me back against the bar. Face to face, his nose was inches from mine. He pressed his hand against my chest where my heart slammed beneath it. His eyes were wide, penetrating mine, while his breaths came hard and fast. With a husky tone in his voice, he said, “I’m here, Salem. Right fucking here.” He wrapped his other arm around my waist, clinging to me as if his life depended on it. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “I’ve always been right here.”
I glanced down at his hand over my heart. I wanted to believe him. It felt so good to be in his arms again. I wanted to melt into his arms and never let him go. And yet, at the same time, I wanted to pluck him off of me like a deer tick on my skin. I loved him and hated him simultaneously. Clutching him, I buried my head in his chest, breathing in his strong masculine scent. In that brief moment, my love for him betrayed my hate, and the intensity of my anger started to wane. I glanced down at his hand and felt safe and secure because there he stood, holding my heart, just like he’d done the last few months.
His eyes were glassy as he held me in his arms. He reached up, cupping my face in his hands and gently kissed my forehead. Dragging his lips softly across my skin, caressing my cheek as he brushed by, he made his way down the side of my face toward my ear. “I’ll always be right here, baby. I’m so sorry I
hurt you, but I swear on my life I will never hurt you again.”
Just then, with his reminder of why we were there in the first place, the lid that I’d put on the pot of my emotions flew off, and my rage boiled over.
Tears burst from my eyes. “Why?” I roared, louder than I expected to. “Why did you do that to me?” I pounded an angry fist into his chest. “Did that night at my house and all this time we’ve spent together mean nothing to you?” Before I knew it, I was pounding against his chest repeatedly, over and over with every desperate plea for an explanation. “Why did you tell me you love me then hurt me like that? Why? Please tell me, why?”
“I’m so sorry, Salem.” It was all he could muster as he took every blow, allowing me to project my hurt and anger out on him. When my energy was spent, Chris wrapped his arms around me. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
My heaving breaths came hard and fast as I tried to get a handle on my rage. Suddenly, realizing how out of control I’d gotten, I buried my head in his chest, humiliated by my maniacal outburst.
He looked at Paige, who was wide-eyed with shock over the scene she’d just witnessed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Paige, dumbfounded, stammered, “You’re…Chris…King…”
Chris smiled warmly at her. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”
Snapping out of her trance, Paige giggled, clasping a hand over her embarrassed grin.
“Do you need a ride?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Oh, no it’s okay. I stopped drinking a while ago, and I only had one. Thanks anyway.”
“You sure?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
She nodded resolutely. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been sipping water and keeping my eye on her.” She glanced out the window at Damon, who already had his arm around a beautiful blonde and was laughing it up with Charlie. “Harmless flirting. That’s all it was,” she said, trying to defend me.
Chris smiled. “I know. I’ll walk you girls out, okay?”
Starry-eyed, Paige grabbed her purse, and he escorted both of us out of the bar. Peering around his back at me, she whispered harshly, “When you mentioned Chris, you didn’t say anything about Chris-Fifth-Wheel-King.”
