by E. M. Abel
She winced. “Oops. I forgot to tell you about that.”
I looked down at the table before continuing, “Then, he started making out with Destiny, so I left.”
Tiffany’s back straightened, and I peered up at her.
“Well, that sounds awkward,” she said.
“Yeah, it was.” There was no way I was going to tell her the rest. “So, what do you even know about this guy?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long have you known him? He can’t just be a bartender. His apartment was too nice.”
“Well, he sells drugs, too, remember?” She picked up the nearly empty sandwich bag she’d brought me just two days before. “Actually”—she pulled her phone out of her pocket—“he’s also a model. I found him on Facebook.” She tapped her finger on the screen a few times. “Don’t judge me,” she muttered before handing it to me.
I looked down at the screen.
Brandon Cain.
The album she showed me was filled with pictures of Brandon—Brandon with his shirt off, Brandon on a motorcycle, Brandon pressing a naked woman against a wall. As I scrolled down, I found a close-up and tapped on it. His blue eyes were penetrating as they stared at the camera. His strong jaw was clenched under his full beard, and his dirty-blond hair hung down, casting a shadow over one side of his face. His stare sent a shiver down my spine.
“Now, you see why I have a crush,” Tiffany said, reaching over to retrieve her phone.
I gave it back to her.
“Did you tell Derek where we went?”
“No.”
“Good,” she said with a smirk. “He doesn’t even know that we hang out, does he?”
I shook my head.
“It’ll be our little secret then. Brian doesn’t know either.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“He doesn’t need to know everything, Penelope. I need to have a life separate from him, you know? I’d go crazy if I didn’t.”
Crazy like me.
Tiffany stood up. “So, what do you want for lunch?”
I spent the rest of the afternoon letting Tiffany distract me with her problems. Apparently, she and Brian had been fighting a lot lately, and since she already knew my marriage was in shambles, she felt comfortable enough to give me all the gory details, not that I’d asked for them. But it was kind of nice to know I wasn’t the only one questioning my decisions.
“Honestly, if he wasn’t so good in bed, I probably would have left his ass a long time ago,” she told me as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It smelled like cotton candy.
We were sitting on my couch, eating popcorn, while The Ellen DeGeneres Show played on the television. I watched as Ellen handed an oversize check to a crying woman.
“What about Derek? How’s your sex life? Or how was it, I mean?”
I shrugged. “Good, I guess.”
It used to be amazing, earth-shattering, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Have you guys…you know…have you slept together since you found out?”
I peered over at her but didn’t respond.
“What? I’m just curious. Maybe you guys had some really hot angry sex or something.”
I shook my head and turned my attention back to the television. A commercial for an antidepressant was playing. The depressed actress reminded me too much of myself.
“How long have you guys been married?”
“Nine years.”
“Wow. Did you plan on having kids?”
Looking down at my lap, I rubbed my hands over my legs, trying to fight the shame that grew every time someone asked me that.
“I can’t. Derek wants them, but the doctors say it’s almost impossible for me to get pregnant.”
Tiffany stayed silent as I tried to blink away the tears forming in my eyes.
“Speaking of Derek, he’ll be coming home soon. I should probably…”
She nodded and stood up, sensing the change in my mood. She seemed serious about keeping our friendship a secret, which was fine with me. I needed some secrets of my own.
“Yeah, I should probably head home anyway. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Okay.”
“You should call Brandon soon. Your stash is getting pretty low.”
I didn’t miss the smirk playing on her lips.
I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”
By the time Derek got home, I was feeling weak and tired, but I tightly held on to my anger, afraid my grip might loosen and he would sense it.
I was lying on the couch, staring at the television, when Derek came in. He didn’t say anything as he sat in his recliner and began removing his boots. I made sure not to look at him. When he finished, he stood and watched me for a few seconds, but I didn’t move. He eventually left the room and turned the shower on. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the memory beginning to play out in my mind.
“God, Penny, I love you so much,” Derek whispered as he kissed my neck and filled me once more.
My heart and body were overflowing. I loved the way he cherished me, the way he cradled my body against his, as if it were the most precious thing in his life. I could feel his heartbeat pounding behind his slick skin, his breaths coming faster, while his hips pressed deeper against mine. His fingers laced into my hair, and he lifted his head, our eyes meeting, connecting.
There were no words for that moment, no poetic phrases that could ever touch the impact this man had on me. He owned me. He gave me the love I’d always dreamed of.
Tears slid out of my eyes and into my hair. My heart ached, overwhelmed by the power of it.
“I love you,” I murmured as his body continued stoking the fire inside me.
Derek leaned down, his lips just a whisper against mine. “Forever.”
That used to be one of the most prized moments in my life, a memory I’d kept tucked away close to my heart. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.
When I opened my eyes, I’d expected to find tears, but there were none. Perhaps I’d finally run out. That realization stiffened my chest, hardening my heart even more. I gazed at the television as a sideways Dr. Phil tried to reason with a woman who didn’t seem interested.
“You teach people how to treat you,” he said, his bald head shining in the studio lights.
What does Dr. Phil know about heartache? What does he know about a woman’s hope?
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I turned my head to see Derek standing behind the couch, wearing nothing but a towel. His dog tags hung around his neck, resting in the middle of his strong chest. His flawless tan skin was glistening with a coat of water, his six-pack on display above the deep V of his hips.
I didn’t respond. I just looked at him. Why does he have to be so beautiful?
Derek walked around the couch and went to sit at my feet. I sat up and folded my legs beneath me, my eyes looking everywhere but at him. I knew how much he loved my eyes, and I found myself trying to punish him in any way I could.
I listened as he took a deep breath, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he put his elbows on his knees.
“I know you hate me right now,” he said, turning to look at me.
I stared at the grooves in our hardwood floor.
“You have every right to hate me, Penny. I hate myself for what I did.” Pausing, he sighed before asking, “Will you look at me? Please?”
Clenching my jaw, I lifted my chin and faced him. His eyes searched mine, and I knew he could see all the anger and pain he’d caused. He blinked and looked away.
“I’m worried about you,” he said, turning to look at me again. “You’ve been drinking a lot and getting high all day. I’m worried that you’re depressed and that you might do something…to hurt yourself.”
My eyes narrowed, and my temper instantly flared. “Hurt myself? Why would I do that, Derek? You take care of that all on your own.”
He shook
his head before looking back at the television. I knew he was trying to stay calm.
“I think you should talk to someone. I just know something needs to change, Penelope. We can’t keep living like this.”
I should talk to someone. “You’re right. We can’t. I think we should just get divorced and go our separate ways.”
Derek’s head turned, and his eyes were intense as they stared into mine, but I didn’t look away.
“Stop fucking with me, Penny. I get it. I fucked up. I hurt you. But you know damn well that you don’t want a divorce.”
I didn’t know what pissed me off more—his arrogance or the edge of truth in his words. As much as he’d hurt me, I was still scared to lose him. I’d already lost so much. I’d become such a contradiction that I could hardly stand living inside my own skin. I ground my teeth, my jaw muscles sore with the tension straining them.
I wanted a Xanax. I wanted oblivion.
Derek’s eyes were steady as they studied me, but I couldn’t meet them. I could only feel the weight of the judgment they carried. The walls were leaning, the air was thickening, and his stare was burning.
“I need to get out of here,” I snapped.
My hands shaking, I stood up and quickly made my way to our bedroom. Derek followed me. I went into the closet and grabbed a suitcase. Tossing it onto our unmade bed, I stalked to my dresser and began pulling out clothes. I shoved them in, not caring which ones I’d chosen. I just had to get away from there, from him.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I just need to get out of here. I need time to think.”
I saw him take a step into the room, but he kept his arms folded in front of him, watching as I haphazardly packed my things.
“How is leaving going to help us? We’re supposed to be working on our problems, not running from them, Penelope.”
Stopping to take a deep breath, I fought the surge of anger unfurling inside me and turned to face him. “Look, Derek, I just need you to give me some space, okay? I know I’ve been acting a little crazy, but…” Pausing to take another breath, I held his gaze. “You broke my heart, and I need to decide if I can forgive you. I can’t think straight when I’m here. We should both take this time to decide what we really want.”
Derek stepped closer and put his big hands on my arms, his callous skin sliding against mine. “I want you, baby, no matter what. That’s never going to change.”
I dropped my head and looked at the carpet because I couldn’t see past the hazel in his eyes. I never could. He always knew just what to say, always filling that hole of doubt I carried inside me.
“You’re the only person who’s ever really mattered to me, Penny.”
He moved his hand to my jaw where his warm thumb ran along the curve of my bottom lip. I couldn’t help but look at him as he triggered memories of what we’d once had. His warm breath fluttered against my skin, and my shattered heart continued to pound. I held my breath as he leaned closer, his lips touching mine for the first time in weeks. I didn’t have the strength to fight his kiss. I was pathetic.
Derek wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his warm body. He was always so warm while I stayed cold. He groaned when I let his tongue slide into my mouth, and then I met it with my own. I wanted to forget everything. For just a few minutes, I wanted to believe him.
His hands pressed into my back while mine halfheartedly went to his shoulders. Familiar tastes and smells were filling my senses as I struggled with the voices screaming in my head.
He doesn’t love you! He cheated on you! What are you doing?
Pushing on his chest, I broke the spell. Derek’s breaths were coming faster as his arms relaxed around me.
I took a step back. My lips burned. “I can’t do this.”
“Why hasn’t he called me?”
I stared at the phone on our kitchen counter as I picked at the glitter nail polish I’d let Liz put on me last night. My mom was standing at the stove, mixing powdered cheese into the instant mac and cheese she made every Tuesday for dinner.
“I don’t know why you still wait for those calls, Penelope. Your father isn’t interested in anyone but himself. You’d be better off forgetting about him.”
“But it’s my birthday,” I muttered as tears gathered in my eyes.
My mother released a frustrated sigh behind me, and it hurt my already aching heart. I wished she would hug me and tell me she was sorry, not get annoyed that I still wanted my dad to love me.
“The sooner you realize the truth, the better off you’ll be.”
I angrily swiped at the tears sliding down my cheeks as my eyes stayed glued on the phone.
I wanted him to call. I needed him to prove her wrong…but he never did.
I thought about that moment as I sat in my car on Tuesday afternoon, staring at Brandon’s building. I’d woken up that morning, feeling disgusted with myself. My mother had warned me not to trust men. My father had taught me that fairy tales never came true, but somehow, I’d still been disillusioned. I still craved love from anyone willing to give it to me. Men had been disappointing me all my life. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected more from Derek.
After our kiss the previous night, Derek had convinced me to stay home. He’d told me he’d sleep in the guest room until we figured things out. As much as I’d wanted to argue, I just hadn’t had the energy to fight him.
I’d texted Brandon an hour ago, asking for more weed, and now, here I was, preparing myself to face him. I’d decided to pretend that he’d never squeezed my thigh as he’d made out with Destiny and that I hadn’t contemplated having a threesome with them. I had been drunk and high. I could pretend like I didn’t remember, and that was exactly what I planned to do.
He’s four years younger than me. When I was marrying Derek, Brandon was still a teenager, I told myself these things as I got out of my car and closed the door behind me, anything to help me feel less nervous and embarrassed.
The rhythm of my heart kick-started as I walked into Brandon’s building. The walls were stained, and the floors were dirty. I could hear a man shouting through the apartment door by the stairs. I put my hand on the railing as I took my first step and then pulled it back, rethinking my decision. The place didn’t look like it had been cleaned in months, maybe more. The wood beneath my feet creaked as I made my way toward the second floor. When I reached the top, I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders.
There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Just get your weed, and go home.
As I approached his door, I could hear music playing on the other side. I took a deep breath before reaching out and knocking on the dark wood. I glanced at the peephole and then looked down at my shoes, feeling awkward, as I waited for him to answer.
A few seconds later, I knocked again, and the music stopped. The door swung open. My lips parted, and air clogged my throat as I stared at the eagle tattooed across the chest in front of me. My eyes followed the lines, entranced by the beautiful artwork.
“Hey, come on in.” Brandon’s husky voice took me out of my trance.
My eyes flicked to his. I closed my mouth, and the corner of his lifted. He took a step back, and my gaze drifted to the sweatpants sitting low on his waist as I walked past him. He wasn’t wearing underwear. He closed the door behind me as I stood uneasily in his living room. My hands moved to the strap of my purse hanging across my chest. I didn’t know what else to do with them.
“You want a drink?” he asked as he went into his kitchen.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He opened his fridge, and I distracted myself by looking around his apartment. It was still immaculate.
Maybe he’s got OCD.
“You can relax, you know. I’m not going to bite.” He winked one of his sapphire eyes at me as he took a sip from his water.
Chill out, Penelope. He’s not hot. He’s not hot.
I shrugged. “I’m relaxed.”
Chuckling, he walk
ed toward the couch beside me, gesturing toward it. “Take a seat.”
Brandon sat down and opened the same drawer Destiny had a few nights ago. Pulling out a large Ziploc bag full of weed and a digital scale, he placed both on the table as I sat on the edge of the cushion furthest from him.
“So, what are you up to today?” he asked, pulling crystallized buds from the bag and placing them on the metal plate on top of the scale.
“Nothing really,” I said, glancing at the large window across from us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking at me.
“Do you work?”
I hate answering that question. I always feel ashamed when I say, “No.” My gaze drifted toward my lap where I began picking at my nails.
“Nice. I’m off today, too,” he said, grinning.
I felt a reaction between my legs. Jesus.
“So, you gonna stick around and smoke a joint with me?”
“Um…” My eyes darted around the room before I met his stare. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You sure you’re not a cop? You seem kind of high-strung.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “No. I’m just…”
His grin widened, and I realized he was joking. My shoulders fell, and I cracked a smile.
“So, that’s what your smile looks like,” he said, his eyes moving to my mouth. “I like it.”
Heat crept up my neck and over my cheeks. I shook my head at his obvious flirting and finally relaxed.
“Do you flirt with all your customers?” I asked, watching his tattooed hands as they closed the large Ziploc bag.
Satisfied with the amount on the scale, he stood up and made his way back to his kitchen. “Was I flirting?” he asked.
I studied the angels tattooed on his muscled back as he walked away. “That’s what it sounded like to me.”
I met his gaze as he walked toward me.
He came back with a smaller bag in his hand. “I thought I was just complimenting your smile while pointing out that you rarely show it.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and looked away, feeling my back stiffen again. Good job, Penny. Go ahead. Keep embarrassing yourself.
