Madly Addicted: A Mad Love Novella

by Colet Abedi

  “Sophie,” his voice sounds like he’s in pain.

  I scoot closer to him and continue my assault.

  Just as my hand moves around to his stomach and inches lower, he grabs it.

  “No,” he tells me.

  “No?”

  He’s rejecting me.

  “You don’t want me,” I state the obvious as I roll away from him and move as far to the edge of the bed as I possibly can.

  I don’t even have time to be depressed.

  He moves too fast for me to think.

  In a second he’s pressed up to my body and grabs hold of my hand to show me just how bad he wants me. And how wrong I am.

  “Does this feel like I don’t want you?” His voice is angry as his face comes down only inches away from mine.

  “I want you so goddamn badly that I’m dying with need,” he tells me in a voice that makes me lose my heart.

  I wait for him to pounce.

  Like he always does.

  But something has shifted.

  And he doesn’t.

  He pushes away from my body like he’s been burned by fire.

  “But it’s not the answer,” he whispers. “Not tonight.”

  For all the obvious reasons I’m incapable of any sleep.

  My eyes open when the sun starts to shine in my bedroom. Clayton is still sound asleep, looking peaceful and almost angelic.

  Ha.

  What a lie that is!

  I try to be as quiet as possible as I inch out of bed and grab hold of my phone. For once, luck is on my side and Clayton doesn’t move. I say a silent prayer of thanks.

  I make my way out of the bedroom and walk into the guest bathroom to take in my appearance.

  Holy shit!

  I look like the bride of Sasquatch. My hair is so big that I would literally fit in with the cast of Jersey Shore— and what’s more? My face. Oh my God, my face. I have mascara skid marks running down my cheeks and my eyes are so swollen that it looks like someone punched me hard, minus the bruises.

  Did Clayton see me like this when he came in this morning?

  Ummm.

  Yes!

  I want to die.

  I don’t care what time it is, I just Facetime Erik.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t send me to voicemail.

  He picks up in bed. Looking so perfect it’s really not that fair. He stares at me in horror.

  “Am I having a nightmare?” he asks as he takes in my appearance.

  “I don’t have time for this,” I tell him as I try to smooth out my unruly hair.

  “Well, you should,” he replies. “I feel like I’m staring at the Boogeyman. Did you get ready in the dark? Did Helen Keller put that look together for you?”

  “I need your advice,” I ask him totally unphased. Erik’s sarcasm is to be expected.

  “Have you been cast as the ghost in Paranormal Activity?” Erik continues sounding completely offended by my appearance.

  “No,” I tell him.

  “Then what business do you have Face-Timing me in this condition?”

  His question is valid but nonetheless totally unnecessary right now.

  “I need your help,” I mutter in annoyance.

  “For God’s sake!” Erik mutters as he rises from the bed and walks out of his room.

  I follow him on the screen of his iPhone.

  “Speak,” he demands. “And if I see some snot bubble come out of your nose right now, I swear to God-”

  I wipe my nose quickly.

  “What is going on?” He softens his voice as I watch him walk into his kitchen and start to make coffee.

  I proceed to have verbal diarrhea and tell him everything. My rant is so long that by the time I’m finished, he’s done making his brew and is sitting on his counter with his phone propped up watching me with an indecipherable look on his face.

  “So what do you think?” I finally ask.

  “Since it’s not even seven in the morning, and your appearance is just beyond offensive, I’m having a hard time coming up with something to say,” he replies candidly.

  “Erik-” I plead.

  He rolls his eyes.

  “Am I the bane of your existence?” I ask him in what I’m sure is a pitiful voice.

  “Yes,” he responds without hesitation.

  I sigh. Can I blame him?

  “Do you hate me?” I ask.

  “Sometimes, yes.” Erik says to my horror then when he sees the look on my face swears. “A bitch can’t even take a joke anymore.”

  “I’m too sensitive right now,” I tell him honestly.

  “That’s the goddamn problem,” he replies.

  I’m quiet as I stare at him.

  “Sophie,” he begins. “I just don’t understand.”

  “What?”

  “He’s offering you something that most women would die for,” he goes on. “He wants to live with you. Which means he’s planning on staying here. And more importantly, he wants to try.”

  “At playing house?” I ask. “Have you heard a word I said?”

  “Yes,” Erik assures me. “And to be honest, your neighbors probably have as well.”

  I flush.

  “I wasn’t screaming,” I defend myself.

  Erik takes hold of his phone and holds it a good distance away from him.

  I watch as Orie slowly comes into frame.

  “I heard everything,” Orie says as he groggily walks into the picture and waves at me then goes for what I’m assuming is the pot of coffee.

  Erik’s look says it all.

  “Well,” I defend myself. “I’m emotional.”

  “We know!” I hear Orie’s voice shout off screen.

  “This is beyond me,” Erik says. “I think you two should see Dr. Michelle. She’s unconventional and so good at what she does.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A couples therapist,” he tells me. “I’m too close to the situation and I think she can help you sort all of this shit out.”

  “Couples therapy?” I say in surprise. “That’s your advice?”

  “Yes,” he returns.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You’re not seeing what I am right now,” he returns. “If you were, you wouldn’t throw that word out so nonchalantly.”

  “Like Clayton will ever see a couples therapist with me,” I retort annoyed.

  “He might.”

  “He’s English,” I state the obvious.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Erik looks confused.

  I have no idea, but I thought it made sense when the words came out of my mouth.

  “So we’re not even married and we need therapy?” I take another approach. “That doesn’t bode well.”

  Erik rolls his eyes.

  “I just think you need an unbiased mediator who can help you sort through all of this,” he says. “Couples go to therapy all the time to work out problems. I think it’s healthy. It only makes you stronger. Look at Orie and me.”

  “You guys saw her?” I ask in surprise.

  Erik rolls his eyes.

  “Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?” He rants. “We saw her when we got back from Europe just to work through some stuff that came up while we were in France. Remember, I told you.”

  Shit. He so did.

  “I forgive you for being so far up Clayton’s ass that you failed to actually listen to the conversations I had with you,” Erik begins. “I mean, do you at least remember that we’re engaged? I only told you yesterday. If you forgot then we need to check you in to see a brain doctor like stat.”

  “Of course I remember!” I have the good graces to blush because he’s so right.

  “Thank God for that,” Erik snorts. “So what do you think about Dr. Michelle?”

  “I don’t know-” I say.

  “You can try and at least ask him,” Erik says.

  “Clayton will never agree,” I respond adamantly. “Ever. Like ever.”
<
br />   “I’ll do it,” I hear his sexy voice behind me.

  Holy shit.

  Chapter 5

  Clayton

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Was it the alcohol still left in my bloodstream or was it the sudden need for validation and to prove Sophie wrong?

  A doctor would surely side with me.

  Understand where I was coming from.

  Tell Sophie exactly what I needed her to hear.

  But now sitting across from Erik’s, Dr. Michelle, I have a sinking feeling that I’m about to be proven wrong.

  Her smile is nice enough. She’s attractive with her shoulder length brown hair and eyes. And she fit us into her schedule when Erik asked.

  But now.

  As she scribbles something on her white notepad and looks from Sophie to me, I’m beginning to wonder what in God’s name I’ve gotten myself into.

  “Clayton, is there anything you want to add?” Dr. Michelle asks me this.

  Add?

  When did we even start?

  “I’ll let Sophie begin,” I tell her.

  Dr. Michelle gives me an amused look.

  “She just did,” she says. “In fact, she just finished her side of it.”

  Fuck.

  I lean back in the couch and smile. I take a second before I look over at Sophie whose eyes are narrowed at me in annoyance.

  “This is a bad idea,” Sophie looks over at Dr. Michelle. “We should just go.”

  “Why?” Dr. Michelle asks curiously.

  Sophie shrugs.

  “I don’t want to push him-”

  “But he’s pushing you,” Dr. Michelle replies.

  “How the hell am I doing that?” I ask in outrage. “I’m offering her more than any other woman in my life.”

  “I know you are,” she tells me. “But do you see where she’s coming from?”

  No.

  I sure as hell don’t.

  But I wisely choose to keep those words to myself.

  “I’m trying to make her happy,” I state.

  “You do make me happy,” Sophie replies.

  “Then why are we here?” I ask her. “We’re in a couples therapist’ office like we’ve had years of problems.”

  “Erik thought we needed a mediator,” she replies. “And you agreed.”

  Before I can respond Dr. Michelle interjects.

  “Clayton, can we talk about you now?”

  “What about me?” I ask suspiciously.

  “I want to hear about your childhood,” Dr. Michelle says.

  Christ.

  Here we go.

  What do you expect, Sinclair? You’re sitting in a goddamn therapist’s office.

  “What about my childhood?” I ask quietly.

  “Tell me about your parents,” she urges.

  “This is ridiculous,” I say.

  “You sound defensive,” Dr. Michelle responds.

  I stay silent. Lethally so.

  “We should just go,” I’m sure Sophie can feel my energy shift. She can read my moods well. She starts to stand up. “I think this is too much for him and he’s a private man-”

  I look up at her and take in her sad appearance. She looks devastated and it breaks me to know I’m the cause of it.

  “We’ll stay,” I sigh. “You want this.”

  “I also want you to be happy and comfortable. I don’t want you to feel cornered into talking about things you’re not okay with.”

  It’s a little too late for me, sweetheart.

  “I’m fine, baby.” I say in a voice that doesn’t betray my annoyance. I look over at Dr. Michelle.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask.

  “Everything.”

  Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

  An hour later we leave Dr. Michelle’s office and I’m more confused than ever. She scribbled words down as I spoke about my upbringing and I had to fight the urge to rip the notepad out of her hand just to see what she was writing.

  Occasionally she would give me an, ‘is that so,’ which irritated the shit out of me and made me want to reply cuttingly with a, ‘yes, that’s bloody so and what of it?’ But I had refrained myself for Sophie’s sake.

  When our session was done, she ushered us to the door and to my surprise had given me a smile.

  “I do hope I’ll see you guys again soon,” she said and patted me on the back. “But don’t worry, I think you’ll be okay.”

  Meanwhile, I was not bloody okay. I had just revealed things about my childhood to a complete and utter stranger. I felt vulnerable and the emotion was not only novel, but also one I found singularly unappealing.

  Not only that but I also didn’t know what the hell was going on inside my head anymore. Sophie had turned me into a goddamn wreck. If this was what it meant to care about a woman, I didn’t know if I wanted it.

  We were both silent as we made our way to the black Range Rover I had rented since I arrived. I opened the door for her and made my way to the driver’s side.

  Once I was in the car I turned to look at her. Sophie’s face was indecipherable.

  “So what now?” I ask.

  “I guess it’s like she said,” Sophie replied after a second. “We just need time to sort through all of this.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I want her to spell it out for me.

  “I don’t know, Clayton,” her voice is unsure. “Maybe we need space to figure things out?”

  Space?

  Fuck it.

  I’m over this. I turn the car on and drive to Sophie’s place. We both stay silent the entire way. I’ve offered what I can. I just went to a goddamn couples therapist for Christ’s sake, and now she wants space.

  I’m done.

  I pull up to the driveway of her building and she looks straight ahead.

  “Thank you for coming today,” her voice sounds defeated. “I know that’s not something you would normally do.”

  “Try. Ever.” I say harshly.

  “I know,” Sophie’s voice is hoarse.

  I don’t trust myself to speak.

  She looks over at me and her beautiful green eyes are bright with emotion.

  Fuck. This.

  I can’t stop myself.

  I grab her roughly by the hair and drag her body over to mine. My mouth finds hers and I kiss her with all the pent-up anger and passion I feel.

  I pull away when I know I won’t be able to stop. We’re both breathing hard.

  “Just remember,” I tell her. “You asked for space.”

  She gives me a sad smile and gets out of the car. I watch her walk into her building and fuck if I don’t feel like she’s just ripped out my heart.

  This woman.

  This goddamn woman.

  She’s my heaven.

  And my hell.

  Chapter 6

  Sophie

  I’m at lunch with my dad.

  He rang the second I walked into my apartment and asked if I wanted to grab something to eat. Since I didn’t want to be alone with my sad thoughts about Clayton, I said yes. Now I wonder if that was such a good idea.

  “So how are things with that English man?” My dad asks curiously as he reads the lunch menu at Il Fornaio.

  I know my dad knows his name, but I don’t have the energy to point it out.

  “He’s okay,” I shrug nonchalantly.

  “Just okay?” he lowers the menu to stare at me as his eyes narrow. “Has he hurt you?”

  I keep my gaze glued to the menu. I know he’s dying for me to say yes.

  That would be his dream come true.

  “No dad,” I say. “I think the opposite is the case.”

  “I’m not following,” my dad replies. “And can you please lower the menu so I can see your face?”

  I do as he asks and decide to hit him with the truth.

  “He bought a place here,” I tell him. My dad’s eyes flare in surprise. Bet he didn’t see that coming.

  “So he
’s going to move here?”

  “Maybe part time, we haven’t really discussed that yet,” I explain then decide to throw down the nuclear bomb. “He wants me to move in with him.”

  My dad’s eyes narrow in annoyance.

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  I shrug.

  “You’re grappling with it.” Dad points out the obvious.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” The waitress asks as she comes up to our table.

  “Pinot Grigio,” I reply quickly.

  My dad raises a brow.

  “Drinking at lunchtime?”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I shrug.

  “Then I’ll have a martini,” he tells the waitress.

  She walks away.

  Dad leans back in his chair as he studies my face. And God, is he good at it. Studying. Analyzing. And deducing. It’s too bad he hasn’t warmed up to Clayton considering they both have those skill sets down pat.

  “So tell me, Sophie,” he continues. “I thought you loved this man.”

  “I thought you didn’t like him,” I respond defensively.

  He shrugs.

  “I know from past experience with you what I want is completely irrelevant,” he tells me. “And according to your mother, I should let it go and just pray for your happiness instead of fighting it.”

  “Mom said that?” I’m shocked.

  My dad nods.

  I wonder if hell has frozen over.

  Are pigs flying?

  Has the bear ceased to shit in the woods?

  “Sophie,” my dad prods.

  “I don’t know,” I finally admit. “I’m just confused. Maybe it’s stupid to feel this way, but I do. I mean, if I say yes, am I letting him have the cow before he’s bought the milk?”

  “I’m assuming he’s already bought the milk,” my dad says dryly.

  Mortifying!

  Luckily I don’t have any liquid in my mouth or I would have spit it out.

  “Dad-”

  “You’re an adult,” he waves off my embarrassment. “And you’re my daughter. I want you to be able to talk to me about anything.”

  Not freaking likely.

  “So you would support my decision if I moved in with him?” I challenge.

  The waitress brings our drinks.

  “I’ll be back for your order,” she says.

  I grab my glass of wine and notice with some amusement that my dad grabs his just as quickly.