Embrace

by S. Layne

  He appreciated the gesture with a passionate performance.

  I don’t think the fact that he’s wearing the tie this morning is coincidence.

  “We could relive it,” he says, his hands moving to cover mine.

  I lift my eyes and take in the wicked glint in his. He is definitely wearing the tie for that reason. He winks, and I shake my head.

  “We’ll be late.”

  “I don’t care. Every time I wear this tie I think of you…of that night.”

  I’m glad. The thought makes me smile. I like that he’s close to Becky and thinking of me. “Good,” I say, and go back to tying the silky fabric.

  When I’m done, I raise my head and lean in, kissing the column of his throat. I feel him swallow beneath the brush of my lips, the beat of his pulse, and pull back.

  “Lunch?” I ask, although he’s already demanded I meet him to eat after I leave my office. I suspect he lacks trust in me and wants to ensure I don’t do something crazy with Liam.

  It’s a ridiculous notion, one I’m only willing to oblige because it’d be rude of me not to.

  He takes a step back, straightening the ends of his tie one more time. He’s always so perfect, so handsome.

  So mine. I hop off the counter.

  “Let me come with you.”

  “No,” I say firmly. “And it’s not fair of you to demand this.” My words come out irritated and I know he can tell by my tone that I don’t appreciate him pushing me.

  Fortunately, he steps back and lifts his hands, palms out, acquiescing.

  Unfortunately, he’s pushed me too far.

  Turning to the mirror, I give my hair and makeup a cursory glance, ensuring I look presentable. “It’s not like I’ll see him anymore after this morning,” I say, giving him a pointed look. “You know…like you and your office.”

  I turn, facing him, my adrenaline beginning to spike, preparing for battle.

  I wonder if it will always be like this.

  James runs his hands through his hair before he drops them to his side. “I know. And I’m working on that, I just…I need some time.”

  His eyes are distant, staring into the mirror over my shoulder, not at me.

  My shoulders stiffen. “What?”

  He looks directly at me. “It’s nothing, I promise. Or it is…and I’ll tell you when I can.”

  He’s asking me to trust him. The problem is I don’t, and I hate that, too. I hate that two minutes ago we were remembering a sexy night. That an hour ago we were clawing at each other, crying out each other’s names at the height of a passion that had him dripping in sweat and me swearing to myself I’d forget his affair. Now, we’re so quickly back to a standoff.

  Me, tense and ready to brawl.

  Him, brushing it off as if it doesn’t matter.

  Like I don’t matter.

  “Lunch,” he says and takes a small step that has his chest brushing against mine. My damn nipples harden even though I’m mad.

  “Fine,” I sigh, and drop my forehead to his chest. I’ll let it go for now. But I won’t for long. “Lunch.”

  “Thank you.” He kisses the top of my head and his arms wrap around my waist.

  It’s incredible.

  I want him again. My body responds even when my brain tells me this isn’t right. We’re deflecting. Avoiding.

  Using sex to solve our issues.

  We’ll have to stop at some point.

  Or our marriage will detonate—explode into shards of memories even if we don’t want it to.

  I know this.

  But in this moment, I relish his arms and the warmth and the bliss that comes from evading reality.

  My foot taps against the tiled floor. My eyes are trained on the numbers above the reflective metal doors and I silently count them in my head. I left James thirty minutes ago and I’ve debated the decision every second since then.

  It might have been stupid for me to come here, knowing I’m going to be seeing Liam.

  I can’t see him. A part of me, even though I want to be committed to working things through with James, is shaking at the thought of being with Liam again.

  The very fact I’m nervous almost makes me wish I had James with me, just so I could avoid some of the awkwardness I’m sure I will soon have to handle. But using James to protect me isn’t right, either. I have to handle Liam myself, and put all of that in the past.

  The elevator dings, and I jump when the doors open and people begin walking around me, moving into and out of the lift.

  I eye the small space in front of me, co-workers from the company I work for eyeing me speculatively.

  Courage and determination settle like a rock in my stomach. Nerves battle, and I’m terrified as I take the first small step onto the elevator.

  I press the number to my floor and clasp my hands around the strap of my purse.

  They’re cold and clammy.

  I stare at the doors as if I’m counting down the moment to my doom while the elevator rises.

  It’s the longest ride of my life, with all of the stopping and starting. I shift, making way for people as they exit, and by the time it stops on my floor, I’m alone with my thoughts.

  My overdramatic nerves keeping me company.

  The first thing I notice on my floor as I step off, feeling alien in a place that’s always felt like home, is the quiet.

  There is no tapping of keys. No laughter. There is only utter silence, and my footsteps falter when I notice that Sheila isn’t at her desk.

  Her desk is her throne that she commands from eight to five every day like clockwork. Flighty though she may be, a gossip queen to be sure, she is never gone from her post. Ever.

  I feel my eyebrows pull in and I roll my shoulders back, nerves and tension knotting themselves in the middle of my shoulder blades and down my back.

  There’s no one in sight, and it feels as if it takes forever to reach my desk.The silence and the emptiness are eerie.

  Something is going on and I know nothing about it.

  Sadness filters into my thoughts with the knowledge that I’m a stranger on this floor, unaware of what’s going on in a place that has meant so much to me—a job I’ve always loved.

  Looking for solace, I reach my desk, grabbing a small file box that I generally keep flattened underneath it for organization purposes.

  I quickly flip the edges in and out, turning it until a firm box is created, and I prop it on my desk chair.

  I might be able to pack up my desk and get out of the office without seeing anyone.

  Without having to say goodbye to anyone.

  Tears begin burning my eyes. Years of a job I loved, and somehow in the course of months it’s been soiled and ruined, and now I’m leaving.

  I didn’t realize leaving my job would be so hard. It’s just a job.

  With a shaky breath and even shakier fingers, I begin filling the box. Picture frames, personal files, and effects from home go inside first.

  I’m almost done, unsettled and teary-eyed, when the first few voices begin filtering down the hall from the conference room.

  I’m glad I hadn’t gone past my desk now. I would have seen the room, and based on the voice volume that’s increasing with every breath I take, it would have been full.

  Everyone would have seen me.

  They will all see me now as they make their way back to their desks and offices unless I hide, which I consider for a brief moment.

  I could sneak under my desk until the crowd passes, curl into a ball.

  As the voices become louder I stand straight up, and am not surprised at all when the first person I see is Sheila as she comes around the corner.

  Her eyes widen as she notices me, her mouth open, like she just stopped speaking in the middle of a word. It’s formed in an odd shape.

  “Hey, stranger,” she says cheerfully. She drops the conversation she was having with an assistant in our tech area, and makes her way toward me.

  “Cleaning o
ut your desk?” she asks. Her lip pulls in between her teeth as her eyes roam my space. “How are you? And your mom?”

  I blink. So many questions, and I can’t easily find words to answer any of them.

  Why is this so hard? It’s Sheila, and she’s kind and beautiful. But her mouth is a spigot that will spew whatever words I say.

  “My mom’s home now, recovering.”

  “We missed you.”

  I set another framed picture of me and James into my box and grip the edges. Liam will be here any moment.

  “Thank you,” I finally mutter, and drag my eyes reluctantly to meet her gaze. “How are things here?” I ask, pulling in a breath, trying to force iron control from something that feels like water.

  “Busy—especially with the surprise of the takeover and everything. There’s a lot of changes, I guess. Liam was just letting us know about how things are changing now that he’s sold the company again. We’ve all been tense, worried about losing our jobs.” She leans in, arching a brow slyly…looking for news. “Has your dad mentioned anything?”

  Relief floods me and I almost laugh. She’s so predictable. “We didn’t have much time to discuss work, Sheila.”

  My tone is scolding, one she doesn’t pick up on as she shrugs and walks around the desk.

  In moments I’m in her arms and she’s hugging me. Awkward. Inappropriate. We don’t touch and we’re not exactly friends.

  The move makes us seem closer than we are and I pull back quickly.

  “Of course,” she whispers and steps back. “We’re going to miss you here, you know. Liam has been one angry man and he’s snapping at everyone.”

  I lick my lips and tell her the information I can give her, not caring that it will be sent out on a mass email in moments. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure he’ll find another assistant soon. Unfortunately, it’s simply time for me to move on.”

  She examines me as if she doesn’t believe my words. She shouldn’t. I’m not ready to leave my job at all. I just have to.

  “Sheila.”

  The cold, distant voice I know so well pierces the air and my shoulders instantly tighten.

  “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

  I close my eyes, taking in Liam’s commanding voice. My body does funny things—warm and cold, shaking and tight. It doesn’t know how to react to his presence, and I resist turning around to see him even though I know he’s moving closer.

  “Of course, Liam.” She grins, her smile turning a little bit flirtatious as she flips her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll let you two speak.” She winks, turning around before she heads to her desk.

  I find myself scowling as I watch her hips sway in her tight skirt as she walks away.

  “You’re here,” Liam says, and that voice. I’m scared to face him, not knowing what I’ll see when I do, but I have to.

  “I came to clear out my desk.” My hand moves to the edge of the box and I grip it. The rough cardboard abrades my palm as I steel myself to see him face to face.

  Turning on my toes, I spin slowly until we’re looking directly at each other.

  His sandy hair is disheveled and his eyes are tired, lines and dark circles ringing around the bottoms and edges. His black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie are impeccable.

  Besides his eyes, he looks perfect, like always.

  But his eyes say he’s tired—and angry—as he narrows them on me.

  “Can we talk?” he asks, his head nodding toward his office.

  I debate for a moment before agreeing. “Of course.” If he has things to say, it’s best not to hear them where anyone can listen.

  I walk into his office, my cheeks flushing as I see his desk—a place where he’s made me come and gasp for his name and my breath. I can’t help but remember it when I hear the door click shut behind me and feel the heat from his body at my back.

  “You didn’t return my calls.”

  His voice is tense, not angry, Something undefined.

  I lick my suddenly dry lips and fight to react to his presence.

  I hate this. I know exactly why James was nervous, and guilt swirls in my gut that I didn’t listen to him.

  “I didn’t think we had anything left to say.”

  He moves, walks until he’s in front of me, and I wish that his walls weren’t windows and we could have privacy.

  The tension and attraction pulses between us, sucking the oxygen from the room.

  Liam slides his hands into pockets and rocks on his heels. “We don’t?”

  I fight not to fidget with my hands. “Do we?” I ask, throwing the question back at him. “I’ve already quit, and I think you can understand why I might not continue working here.”

  “Maybe that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

  I blink, surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t be. Liam isn’t a man who is used to being told no.

  My arms heat, making my short-sleeved sweater feel as if I’m cloaked in a wool winter coat. I can’t look at him, choosing instead to focus on the windows behind his desk.

  “What is it, then?” I finally ask, the heat in the room spiking to burning levels.

  “Us.”

  My eyes snap to his. I hiss in a breath at what I see in his eyes.

  Pure unadulterated desire swims in his bright blue pools.

  I take an instinctive step back until his hand reaches out and grabs my wrist.

  Flames flicker up my arm and I shake it, trying to remove his grip, but he’s holding on too firmly.

  “Liam,” I warn, and don’t know what else to say.

  “You haven’t given us a chance. Not a real one.”

  A drum pounds at the base of my neck, sending a deep thump into my brain.

  With his hand on me, it’s so hard to think, even though I know the truth. I open my mouth to speak, close it, swallow, and open again.

  “I’m married,” I say, but my voice isn’t firm like I want it to be.

  “You always have been.” He tugs my hand, pulling me closer.

  I tumble forward one step and we’re close—too close to be appropriate. I tug my hand, and he doesn’t let go.

  “What I did with you was a mistake. And James and I have talked. I want my marriage.”

  “What we did was not a mistake.”

  I tug harder, and he lets me go. He licks his lips, wetting them, and I can’t help but follow the line of his tongue as he drags it across his bottom lip.

  I know how good those lips and that tongue taste and feel on me.

  I blink the thought away.

  This is dangerous. James was right. This is stupid.

  I take a step back.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice a little bit firmer, because I’m choosing what I want. I know this. I’ve debated this for weeks, wondering what Liam and I were even doing, and maybe if James was definitely out of the picture, I’d feel different about Liam’s attempt to seduce me.

  I straighten my back and feel the tension ease from my shoulders. This is the right thing.

  I know it is.

  As much as Liam could physically make me feel better—he is not the man who has my heart.

  He never was.

  “I’m sorry if this hurts you,” I say again, my voice now confident, “but I want my marriage with James, and he wants me.”

  “Until he cheats on you again. Is he at work right now? With your friend? His lover?”

  He’s hitting me where it hurts, and I flinch from his harshness and coolness.

  I stay strong, feeling my anger rising at his accusations. James and I have enough mistrust between the two of us. I don’t need Liam adding to it.

  “Jealousy isn’t attractive and it doesn’t change anything between you and me.” I lick my lips and watch his eyes drop, but I’m not doing it to get his attention. “I’m sorry,” I say again, “but I need to go. I understand if you won’t give me a reference, and I apologize for hurting you. For I don’t know…expecting something from y
ou, pushing you to feel something when it wasn’t my place to do so. But I can’t be with you. James and I are working on our issues. Throwing them in my face doesn’t make me want you.”

  “You’ll regret this,” he says. I used to hate the arctic chill in his voice. The way he can seem so unaffected even while angry. He’s not warning me, he’s stating a fact.

  One he’s wrong about.

  Because when angry, even if it didn’t work out with James, Liam has just given me a glimpse of the man he can be, and I don’t like it.

  “I doubt it.” I nod, turning and walking toward the door. When I open it, I glance back over my shoulder, almost flinching from his cold glare. He’s hurt, I can see it. But he’s hurt me too, and I can only deal with healing so many painful things at a time. Today, it isn’t Liam.

  It will never be him.

  “Take care.”

  I quickly toss in my remaining few effects, not caring if I leave anything behind, and then I’m gone.

  I briefly say goodbye to Sheila in my hurry to leave, but thankfully I don’t have to wait long for the elevator.

  When I’m outside, I breathe, the first full breath I have been able to take in an hour. I inhale, feeling the burn in my lungs and the adrenaline leaving my body as I make my way to my car.

  It’s done.

  My job.

  My affair.

  I feel lighter, knowing I’ve done the right thing.

  The only thing I could do under the circumstances thrown my way in the last few weeks.

  And as I get in my car and begin heading toward James—toward, hopefully, a new chance at a future I’ve always wanted—it feels right.

  The best choice.

  The only choice.

  My stomach is full from good food and a couple of glasses of wine. It aches from all the laughing we’ve done.

  My cheeks hurt from smiling.

  My dinner and night out with Talia is just what I’ve needed and so much different from the last few times we’ve gotten together.

  It has helped center me after a week of not working—a week of having James back in the house.

  A week that’s been full of nights spent making love, but the rest of the time, an awkwardness that I think we’re both trying to pretend doesn’t exist.