Forever, Mr. Black

by Shanora Williams

  You flip her onto her back, slide between her legs, and kiss her from head to toe.

  You tell her how much you love her as you eat her pussy, sweet and fresh from the shower she took the night before.

  And when you’re done eating her, you take her. You make love to her. You make her yours all over again, all while murmuring you will never let her go.

  Do you see it?

  Do you get it?

  Well, I don’t.

  I didn’t feel this way today. I hadn’t felt this way in years. My wife wasn’t in bed. She was in the shower, because she was too tired to take one last night.

  I didn’t want her to come out. I know that’s bad to say, but it was true. I wanted her to disappear.

  It was a mistake. Us . . . we were never supposed to do this. But she was so ignorant to it all.

  She thought we truly were in love. She told her sister and her mother something silly about us every single day. I swear to God I was tired of overhearing those fucking phone calls.

  She exaggerated most of the shit.

  Well, more like all of it.

  I wished I was in love with her, I really did. Being in love with her would have made this whole remarrying thing a hell of a lot easier.

  But I wasn’t.

  And I don’t think I was ever going be.

  I rolled flat on my back, staring up at the white ceiling. The shower shut off, and I clutched the sheets.

  She stepped out of the bathroom moments later, her hair damp, and her face clear of all makeup.

  She wasn’t ugly.

  She was beautiful. Gorgeous, really. She reminded me of the Barbie dolls Izzy used to play with. Tall and slender, but not taller than me. Blonde hair and wide, glass-blue eyes.

  She spotted me looking, but she didn’t say anything. She just smiled, and walked to the closet to take down her outfit for the day, all while swinging her hips.

  I couldn’t tell you how long it took for her to get dressed. When she was away, I didn’t count the seconds or the minutes, waiting for her to return to me. I enjoyed my time alone. It gave me time to think.

  She came back out, and her lips were on my cheek, and then my mouth. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and she flashed another pearly smile at me before walking out of the bedroom.

  I didn’t watch her go.

  I didn’t care.

  When I heard the garage door open and then close, I rolled over and picked up my cell phone off the nightstand.

  I signed on, and then I hit the search engine on Facebook. I searched for her name, like I did often.

  The only name I wanted to see.

  Chloe Knight.

  Her profile picture was beautiful. It was simple.

  She was smiling. It was a candid photo. It could have been taken by a photographer, but I was certain it was by him.

  The fucker that not only stole my deceased wife from me, but my Knight too. Frustrated, I closed the app and sat up straight.

  I couldn’t fucking do this shit anymore. I couldn’t handle knowing she was out there, away from me. I couldn’t accept that the motherfucker was putting his hands all over her.

  I needed her, more than I fucking thought.

  I swore I could let go, make things easier for both of us, but I was so wrong.

  I never should have left Bristle Wave the last day I saw her. I should have stayed right there and dropped to my knees.

  I should have tossed my ring in the ocean and never looked back.

  I should have made her mine again, because if I had, I wouldn’t be feeling this.

  Heartache.

  Abandonment.

  Lonely, even while married.

  I would have had her. I would have been complete.

  Chapter 2

  Theo

  One Week Later

  This day marked three years and six days since the last time I saw her.

  It was hard not to count. The smallest things circled my mind back to her, not to mention the tribal tattoo I had inked on my body.

  That dream I had was way too fucking vivid for me to ignore. It meant something. And I was ready to find out.

  I couldn’t keep taking this pain—knowing the woman I was wholeheartedly in love with was out there with the fucker that caused my first wife to cheat on me.

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I couldn’t control Janet’s actions back then because I didn’t even know it was happening. And the kid had no idea who the hell I was, but he knew now, and he stole Chloe right away from me.

  Another person I loved.

  Fuck that.

  I knew where she lived now. I knew how to get her back, but I kept my distance out of respect.

  I missed her. I needed to see her again. I knew she still thought about me. She had to. She may have denied it for that piece-of-shit, but I fucking knew. A love like the one we had doesn’t just fade. It can’t disappear.

  A love like the one we shared lingers in your heart—sweeps through your soul. It robs you of your sleep, and gives you nightmares when you dream about losing them.

  It ignites, and with each day that passes without that person, you slowly wither away—deteriorate and crumble—until you realize you need to get your shit together and make it work.

  There would be consequences in going back for her, but I was okay with that. I was getting my Knight back. I didn’t give a fuck if I had to fight to do it. I was going to make her remember all we had—all that we’d gone through—and I wasn’t going to leave Bristle Wave until the job was done.

  With that in mind, I stared down at the thick packet of papers in my hand. A mistake? Perhaps. But she was worth the gamble.

  Picking up my car keys and duffle bag, I walked towards the kitchen counter and placed the divorce papers down on the center of it. It was pretty self-explanatory, what had to be done.

  Sheila was going to flip her shit. I already knew that, but there was no doubt she hadn’t seen this coming. No matter how badly she wanted to deny it, it was a reality.

  I had no regrets about moving forward. I was gone in a matter of seconds, on my way to Bristle Wave.

  I didn’t look back once.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe

  2 Days Later

  The grandfather clock on the wall finally struck twelve. He still wasn’t home.

  It chimed loudly, and I glanced at it, rubbing my left temple lightly before focusing on the papers below me. My red pen was running out of ink and I was losing steam.

  I couldn’t keep waiting up this late for Sterling to get home. I was trying, but having to wake up at four every morning prevented that. I sat back in my chair, looking towards the front door.

  Normally he strolled in around this time, but not tonight. I glanced at my cell phone. Not a single ring or beep. Sighing, I finished up the paper I was grading and then stacked them all, collecting them in a folder.

  I gave my cell phone one last glance. Why hadn’t he called? What was keeping him?

  I understood being a college professor made him busy, but I was certain none of the students were staying after school every night just to improve their musical skills. He was doing something else, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what it was.

  He’d been coming home with barely two words to rub together. He always looked tired . . .and bored. I would cook, but he wouldn’t eat. He’d just say he was tired and then crash on the red recliner.

  Janet’s old red recliner. He didn’t know it was hers, but it’s like he sensed it.

  I picked up my phone and walked up the stairs. After starting the shower, I sat on the toilet seat for a brief moment. My phone was clutched in hand, my leg bouncing. I did this every night since Sterling had been acting weird.

  It was every other-other night when things were okay between us, and I felt guilty for doing so, but not so much anymore.

  I unlocked my phone and went to the Facebook app. I started to spell his name out in the search engine, but
it popped up first . . . because I had searched for it many, many times before.

  He had a Facebook account now and I was surprised. He only logged in if he had something important to announce. Like the car shows he attended, or how he upgraded the shop and his workers with new tools. He shared inspirational videos and pictures, which really didn’t seem like him at all.

  Most of them said things like “Pick your head up and keep going” or “Fight as hard as you can. Never give up.” His profile picture was a photo of him sitting on Ol’ Charlie. His face was solid, no trace of a smile, and those brown eyes of his were heavy.

  I smiled as I studied the bike, remembering those freeing rides.

  There was one picture he had as his cover photo. It was of him and his wife. Seeing her with him made my heart plummet every time.

  She was stunning. Her blonde hair and thin frame. She had bright blue eyes and wore the biggest grin. He held her around the middle from behind, smiling down at her. His eyelashes touched his cheekbones, a smile faint on his luscious lips.

  It was a picture from their wedding day. He wore a black tux with a green tie and she had on a beautiful white gown.

  My heart squeezed in my chest and then my hands shook. It was out of pure envy. I wondered what it would have been like if it were me in that dress instead of her. I should have done something. I never should have let him walk away.

  I was happy for him—glad he found someone he could be with. Someone he could love after me. But I would kill just to see him one more time.

  I held the phone tighter in my hand, blinking my tears away as I logged out and shut the screen off.

  I heard a thunk outside the bedroom. Sterling was finally home. I got undressed and decided to shower up instead of going out to see him right away. I made it a quick one. I had way too many questions to ask him.

  It’d been four weeks in a row of this.

  After putting on my robe, I walked out of the bathroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bed. His head was ducked down, his hands rubbing across his face. His hair had grown out a lot more and the stubble on his chin and around his mouth proved just how little he had been home to take care of himself.

  “Sterling?” I called, stepping closer.

  His picked up his head a bit, but didn’t look at me.

  My eyebrows pulled together with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” he mumbled. “Far from it.”

  I hurried his way, sitting beside him. “What’s wrong?”

  His throat worked up and down, and then he picked his head up to look me in the eye. “I have to go to Orange County. My mom is sick.”

  “Margie? What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just found out.”

  “When?”

  “A couple days ago.” He shrugged, like it didn’t matter.

  I frowned. “And you waited a couple days to tell me?”

  He ignored my question completely, as well as the attitude laced in my voice. “The doctors think it’s pneumonia. I told them I would be there as soon as I can.”

  “Oh . . .” I paused. “Well, do you want me to go with you?”

  “No,” he said rapidly, and his eyes grew wider, his jaw flexing. He said it so fast that I cringed.

  “Sterling, what the hell is your problem lately?” I stood, glaring down at him. My voice was louder than intended, but I’d had it with him and this mood. “You’ve been coming home late. You haven’t been answering my phone calls or responding to my text messages. Have I done something to piss you off?”

  “No.” He dropped his head again. “That’s the thing, Chloe. You haven’t done anything to cause this. You are fine, but I am just . . . I’m losing it. I’m not okay with this.”

  My throat thickened as he clasped his fingers. “What do you mean? Okay with what?”

  He stood up straight, and his eyes were glistening as he focused on me. “I need some space, Chloe. Some time to myself. I think going to see my mom alone will be best for me.”

  “Space?” I lowered my gaze. “Okay . . . if space is what you need, take it. I understand.” But really I didn’t. What had I done?

  He bobbed his head lightly and then went to the closet. He took down some clothes and stuffed them in a suitcase. He didn’t put much in them and I was relieved. That meant he would come back to talk about this . . . at least I’d hoped so.

  He came in my direction and pressed his lips to my cheek when he was close. Not on my lips or even the forehead. But the cheek. Too distant. Something was definitely wrong.

  He hadn’t touched me in weeks, and it may have been because he sensed that I was pretending he was Theo. I wasn’t even sure if I’d ever let something slip, but either way I felt guilty.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” I asked again, asserting myself.

  He turned, jaw ticking. “I said no, Chloe. What part of that do you not understand?”

  I frowned, searching for words, but I had none. He’d been crabby for months now. Irritable and so short-tempered.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he muttered, then walked to the door, but I called after him once more.

  He turned halfway, but didn’t meet my eyes. “Are you doing this because of her?” I asked.

  And after I did, his eyes immediately darted up to mine. His jaw locked, but he said nothing. And I knew that was the exact reason why.

  It was Janet.

  He missed Janet. He couldn’t get over her, not even after all these years.

  He stormed towards me, pointing a stern finger at my face. “Stop asking me about her, all right? Not everything is fucking about her, Chloe! Maybe, just once, I don’t want to come home to you nagging and asking me a million fucking questions about a dead woman! A woman that was the wife of a man you can’t even get over! A man that you still want to fuck!”

  His nostrils flared and my throat went bone dry, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t believe he’d said that to me. I wanted to lash out at him, but I was so damn speechless . . . and only because it was true, and it was Sterling’s first time ever throwing that in my face.

  He pulled his finger away and held his hand up in the air, backing off with wide eyes. Before I could pull out of my wordless state, he was rushing down the stairs. I flinched when the door slammed behind him.

  I slouched down on the cushioned bench in front of the bed, focused on the carpet. I sat there for a moment, knowing Sterling wouldn’t return. Knowing now how he really felt. An ache formed in my chest, tears swamping my eyes.

  Guilt.

  And then there was rage. Full-blown rage.

  I pushed off the bench and went back to snatch my cellphone off the bathroom counter. I logged back into Facebook and searched for his name again.

  Theodore Benjamin Black.

  I clicked his name, and there was one new update that caught me by total surprise. I must have missed it before, probably because I was too busy staring at their wedding photo.

  My eyes stretched at the update. There was no sort of explanation.

  Just this:

  Theodore Benjamin Black changed his relationship status to SEPARATED

  Wait…

  Was this serious?

  For a second I thought I was on the wrong profile, but I knew I wasn’t. This was Theo.

  I clicked one of the updates and saw a few comments. Some were asking him if he was okay. Others asked what happened. Some just left shocked emojis beneath the thread.

  I wanted to put one myself, but we weren’t friends on Facebook. He didn’t know I was silently stalking him, but if he had, I’m sure he would have told me to fuck off. I ruined him for this woman.

  From the moment I saw him again in my new house—his old house—I could tell he was settling, just as I had. He wasn’t elated or over the moon about her. Like I said, he was just okay.

  But okay obviously wasn’t enough for one of them.

  I shut the screen off before I could do anything stupid. I wa
nted to add him, message him, and play catch-up, but he was dealing with separation and I was . . . well, I don’t know what I was. I was still engaged to Sterling, but we weren’t on the same page.

  Was I angry Sterling left like that? Yes.

  But if he needed space, I had to be willing to give him that.

  I climbed into bed, staring up at the spinning ceiling fan. Theo came to mind, along with all of the beautiful memories we’d shared. So much happened, living across the street from that man.

  But thinking about him always led me to thinking about Izzy. I thought about her every day. I wondered what she was up to—what she was doing. I might have been crazy for trying to search for her on Facebook recently, only to come up with nothing, but that’s how much I missed her.

  I felt awful for how things left off. She didn’t have social media for a reason. Probably so she could avoid women like me—women that wanted to make love to her father.

  I huffed a dry laugh. Make that, women who loved her father.

  This was my life now. I’d finally accepted it. It might have been a little fucked-up at the moment, but I guess this was the bill I had to pay for being so selfish—not only by leaving my sweet Theo behind, but by betraying my first and only best friend.

  This was the sacrifice.

  It was time to accept it and move on.

  Chapter 4

  Chloe

  The alarm blared on the nightstand.

  Groaning, I shifted beneath the sheets, pushing them off of my face and sluggishly sitting up. I looked to the right and disappointment settled in.

  I don’t know why I thought he’d come back. I guess when he said he needed space, he meant it. Orange County was only a city away. I figured he would have called me when he got there, but I waited up until 2:00 a.m. and never heard from him.

  And now it was 6:30 a.m.

  Wait—what? 6:30!