by Leigh Lennon
“I need you, Ty. I can’t even wait to get to the bed. I need you.”
As much as I want her to keep the promise about my impending blow job, my need to taste her takes over everything we both want. I’ve never been so happy that my wife is in a dress as I am now. Dropping to my knees, I see the lust in her eyes for me. As I dip my head into the body of her dress, I see she’s bare for me, and I swear loudly, very thankful for her.
“Shit, fuck, hell, I wish I would have known. I would have made you come on the car ride over.”
Laughing at my words, she reminds me, “I was driving, Ty, remember? I would have crashed.”
“I guess that is true.” But why am I talking when I need my tongue on her wet folds? Circling her clit, Emma’s moans make me want to come, too. With one hand, I find her tit, which is not restrained by a bra. Apparently, my wife has no need for undergarments, and I’m fine with this little change in her. Squeezing her tit a little harder than I have in the past makes her let out a seductive low growl, and I swear, she’s wetter and sweeter. Taking my other hand, I work it inside her and find her G-spot immediately. I know what gets her off, and I work three fingers inside her, all around inside her, and I feel it starting in her stomach. Now, with just my finger, I pull back to watch her. I can tell when she’s about to come because her body has always been mine, and like anything that is mine, I know how to best handle it for the optimum results. As her pussy begins to quiver, I see her sexy lips turn up and her eyes roll back in her head. I know she’s about to explode, and I’m right as she screams my name, holding my head, roughly raking her fingers through my thick hair.
“We aren’t done. Not by a long shot, Mrs. Hunter.”
“I hope you are right. I don’t plan to do much more than fuck my husband for the next four days,” she says, and holy fucking smokes, I’ve hit the lottery. But I knew that years ago.
“We do have to eat, Ems,” I say since dinner one night is very much a surprise for her.
“I know, but then we can fuck some more,” she says.
Pulling her in tight, I only say, “Man, I missed you too so much, and I love your plan. Let’s work on it now.”
Friday night comes and goes. We don’t leave the room and barely the bed, ordering room service. Now as the morning sun creeps in to show the highlights on Emma’s dark hair, I watch her chest rise and fall while in her slumber. Last night was some of the raunchiest sex we have ever had, and it was beautiful, wonderful, and about a million other things I can’t quite put into words. But tonight is the big night when I ask her to be a part of our lives again—mine and Aspen’s.
Before we finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, I pulled out my phone to show her the recent pictures of our sweet girl. At just fifteen months, her smile does me in every time. Emma tried to act as if she cared by saying all the right words, but I think she will respond differently after she spends some time bonding with our daughter. Aspen can’t help but capture one’s heart.
As I watch her finally stir and stretch, she smiles at me. “What time is it anyway?”
“It’s a little after ten.”
Pulling me in close, she kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry, I should probably go brush my teeth, but I can’t tear myself away from you.”
“You were sleeping so deep last night. Are you not sleeping well?” I ask.
Yawning and stretching some more, she begins, “Well, I am. I was up with Reagan last night so Jolie could get some sleep and then I ended up crashing on her couch with the baby next to me, so I think I just didn’t sleep that well.”
I pull back from her instantly. “What are you talking about?” My voice is both clipped and stern when I see her eyes flash to my own. I know the name Reagan, she mentioned her in passing as her old roommate’s newborn, but I wasn’t aware she was hanging out with this little duo. My hands are sweaty, and I try to push myself up, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
“Um, it is nothing really,” she starts, and I know Emma enough to recognize when she’s backpedaling. “Jolie, my previous roommate, she’s exhausted, and I volunteered to help her this once. She has not been sleeping for the past two weeks, and she’s more than exhausted.”
I want to begin with so many words, hurtful words, because you know who else is tired when OUR baby isn’t sleeping well? Me! I don’t say that, but I do hop out of bed instantly, pacing back and forth. She’s staring at me as if I lost my mind. “How many times have you done this since HER baby has been born?”
“I’m not sure, Ty. A couple. I’m just trying to help a friend.”
“So you can help a friend, but I see how labored it makes you to ask a couple of questions about OUR daughter. Hell, you can barely look at the pictures I show you!”
Now, she’s mad. I know the I’m so furious look the second it flashes across her face. “I feel guilty, Ty. Don’t make me bonding with a child that isn’t my own something it isn’t.”
“So you are capable of bonding with a child, just not our OWN?” I yell when I sense the perspiration building on my forehead.
“What the fuck, Tyler? What a horrible thing to say to me. I’m trying here, like hell. I want this. I want to be with you and the baby. Have you ever thought that maybe me bonding with Reagan is a way to help with our own child?”
I want to throw something. My temper has always been nonexistent, but right now, my need to take the lamp next to me and smash it against the wall is great. “Like fuck, it will. How old is this baby, three months?”
“Almost five,” she says, wincing, and she must know me so well she’s aware of what is coming next.
“After five fucking months ...” Lifting my hand in the air, I hold out my five digits and say again, “Five months. If that was the case, it would have taken, Ems!” I am not done, not in the least. “You can’t even call our daughter by her name, yet you can say another baby’s name over and over again.” I catch her off guard as if I’ve never noticed she says the baby or our daughter when it comes to Aspen. Yes, I caught onto that a fucking long time ago.
“So what do you want from me?”
Without thinking through my next words, with her on the bed we made love on countless times last night, I kneel in front of her, “Come home with me. Start over with us, with Aspen. I know it’ll take time but give our girl a chance. She will steal your heart if you only allow her to. You can stay with your dad and Justine for now, but please come back to Spokane with me?”
I try to reach for her hand, and she pulls it away. “Ty, I’m not ready, not yet.”
“That’s bullshit. You have been working on this for so long, and yes, in the beginning, I wasn’t as supportive as I could have been, but you have gone through nine months of intensive treatment. You are using the retreat as a crutch, as a reason not to return to your normal life because you know it’ll be hard at times, but, Ems, we are worth it. We are fucking wonderful, remember?” I reach for her hand, and even though she tries to pull away, I hold on extra tight. She’s no match for my grip.
“Just a little bit longer, Ty. Please, just a little bit longer.”
“No, because you will always say that. It is time to shit or get off the pot, right now, today. Let’s drive back to the retreat center right now. I’ll pack your shit up, and we can leave on the next plane for Spokane. Hell, if you don’t want to live with Nick and Justine, then I’ll find you a little apartment for now. I want you back where we can work on this together. That is the only way we will get past it.”
She lowers her head, and that is when I ask the one question I have been dreading for a while now. “You’re planning on coming back, aren’t you? That has always been the plan, hasn’t it?”
When she doesn’t answer, I grab the jeans she took off me last night, sliding them on. Reaching for a t-shirt and my tennis shoes, I slip them on and walk out of the room. “I’m giving you some time to think, but when I get back, I need an answer.”
I want to shake this girl silly and shout at her to co
me back to me, to us. But like Emma has made it clear, it is not that easy.
39
Emma
How can I explain this to him? Our daughter is a part of us, so in a backward kind of way, I’m keeping my distance to protect her from me. What if I flip out again, and I put her in harm’s way? With Reagan, it is different. I can love on her because I have no responsibility to her. I lie in bed, crying and wondering how I share this with Ty when only thirty minutes later, he walks back into our room. He heads to the bathroom first, and I’m slightly relieved by the reprieve I have been given at explaining this to him.
In only ten minutes, he’s showered and rummaging through his suitcase to find clean clothes. I sit looking at him, but he has not spoken to me. Not yet anyway. Standing to give us some distance as I shower, I walk by him, but he grabs my hand from behind. With Ty facing away from me, I’m still able to see part of his face and he begins, “I want you to come home with me today. The rest we can work on, Ems, but without you there, we don’t have the ability to build our foundation again. I was on the phone with a property manager at the apartments two miles down the road from us. I put a deposit on an apartment. Your dad and Ryan can have a bed and couch set up before we touch the ground. There is no pressure on you, Ems, none, just being there, that is how we can start over.”
“Just being there, you are forcing my hand and putting pressure on me,” I whisper, yet loud enough for him to hear.
“No, I just want you home, Ems. We all do.”
“What if this makes me relapse, Ty? I can’t go there. What if this time Aspen gets caught in the crosshairs?”
Turning around, he faces me as he says, “Life is about chances. What if you come home and you are the mom you always wanted to be? You are ready. Grace even told me this last time we spoke.”
Shaking my head and with my brows furrowed, because I know I won’t survive if he is wrong, I say, “Well, Grace doesn’t know shit.” I pause, watching him zip up the suitcase when I continue. “Don’t do this, Ty. Let’s please just go back to what we planned for today. Let’s table this until next month. I’ll give it a lot of thought, and we can discuss this further, and I won’t be caught off guard.”
I turn to walk to the bathroom, thinking I could will this conversation over until his voice carries loudly my way. “Caught off guard? You mean the way you basically said you’ve bonded with a baby when that baby is not ours, the one at home, needing a mom.”
Stopping shy of the bathroom entryway, I hold the door for dear life. “That is not fair, Ty.”
“I need to know now. Are you coming home with me? Yes or no?”
Still not able to face him, I only say, “No.”
Before I can close the bathroom door to shut out him and his cold words, he says, “Then I won’t be here when you get out of the shower.”
I turn now to look at Tyler, but it’s as if we are in a fucking soap opera. I see he’s now turned from me. “Tyler, don’t do this.”
“No, Ems, you are doing this. You will have a home when you return, but until then, I can’t baby you anymore. You are ready for the next step, and I’m not going to be here to spoon feed you. I have a child, our child, at home, who needs us.”
“Are you saying this is it?”
“No, I love you, and I want nothing more than you home, but you are done dragging your feet. Like I said, shit or get off the pot.” He then slams the suitcase on the floor.
Tyler always could be very crude when left with few options. I shut the bathroom door behind me. He will be here when I get out, and then we can discuss this calmly.
After the shower, I walk out to grab a pair of jeans and underwear. Thinking I’d see Ty buried with his face in his hands and his signature pissed-off mood posture, I look around and find his suitcase gone. I was wrong. If I ever thought I knew my husband, this is when I rethink that.
40
Tyler
This past month has been shit for me. First, I have barely spoken to my wife. After leaving her at the hotel, I flew home. Aspen has come down with the worst summer cold, and to make matters worse, my mom and dad came over last night to talk to me about the future of Aspen’s childcare.
“Tyler, I want nothing more than to continue watching my granddaughter, but ever since Aspen has been sick, I can’t seem to shake the germs I’ve gotten from her. This was never supposed to be a long-term thing and running after a toddler all day, even three days a week, has really taken its toll on me.”
I get it. I’m technically only ten years younger than Nick. Nick was young when he had Emma, but my parents were close to their mid-thirties, making my mom almost seventy years old. I’m absolutely blindsided by this but also feel like the world’s biggest ass for not putting my mother’s needs first.
“This was never supposed to be a long-term arrangement,” my dad began, and before they can say any more, I wave them off, telling them I understand and am sorry for putting this burden on them.
I was sincere, but as much as I have never wanted to, I’m going to need to look for long-term childcare arrangements, most likely a childcare center.
Today, while I’m back with a young family and their seven-year-old son for a scheduled euthanasia for their lifetime pet, Kevin interrupts, and I want to take his head off. Early on, I shared with him when he took over for Emma that there is no reason to ever interrupt one of these unless it’s an absolute emergency.
“Sorry, Dr. Hunter,” he begins, and I think he better be. The poor little boy is hugging their golden retriever tightly, unable to stop crying as the golden is resting his chin on the boy’s hand, as though he knows his pain is almost over. “It is an emergency. Dr. Wallace will be here in a minute,” he says to the family.
Turning to them, I say, “I’m sorry, excuse me.”
It has not been a secret within the practice that I have had a shit month, and Kevin turns to me quickly and says, “I have someone in your office. Nick is in there with him but will be with the Shalden family as soon as you relieve him.”
“And this is more important than a family watching their pet die?”
“I’m sorry, Ty. Nick told me to come get you.”
Walking to my office in the back of the building, I’m saying every curse word that comes to me. Opening my office, I see a young man with an envelope in his hands, but I ignore him and walk toward Nick. “This is fucking shit timing, Nick.”
“I know, and unfortunately, it gets worse,” Nick says, not leaving my office to attend to the Shalden family.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, and sure, I’m not normally this direct, but my mood has been dictated by Emma’s announcement that she loves another child, not ours, and that she’d not come home with me.
The man doesn’t look shocked by my words and hands me the envelope. “You have been served.” The second I take the envelope, he walks through the door, not giving me a chance to question what in the hell just happened.
Nick clasps my shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. I’ll leave you be. I’ll take care of the Shalden family and check on you later.”
Leaving me to be, I sit behind my desk, staring daggers through this envelope, reasoning; surely this is not what I think it could be.
As my hands shake, I tear the seal open and am staring straight at what I was hoping this wasn’t: divorce papers.
41
Emma
“You did what?” Grace is borderline yelling at me.
“I filed for divorce. It’s time Tyler gets on with his life. He’s dragging out the inevitable.”
“No, he has been one of the most patient men I have seen in my life, dealing with a situation that has torn him apart, and he still wants you. I know he’s on your HIPAA, but as your therapist, I can’t tell him a lot. But I listened to him, and he’s torn up. He was in the middle of an euthanasia when the lawyer’s goon served him. Emma, you are ready for the next step, and you being scared is not cutting it with me right now.”
I stand, wa
lking toward the door. “You are supposed to be on my side here, Grace.”
She stands, her clogs making a loud thud as she approaches me, “First, what are you, ten? And second, I’m on your side, I’ve always been, but you are being stupid right now.”
“Calling your patient stupid doesn’t seem very professional,” I say, indeed as if I were ten.
“Then it is a good thing I’m telling a friend she’s fucking off and that she needs to get out of my sight right fucking now!”
As I walk out, surprised by her words and the way she went from zero to sixty in a matter of mere seconds, I hear her slamming the door behind her.
Passing Jolie in the hall with Reagan tucked into her baby Bjorn, she seems upset but instead asks, “She didn’t take the news of you serving divorce papers on Tyler well, did she?”
“Nope. Hey, you want me to take Reagan for your session?”
“No,” she replies too quickly.
“Why? You know I’ll take good care of her.” Jolie looks away from me at my words.
“Grace spoke with you and told you not to let me bond with Reagan?”
“Sort of mentioned I should watch how much time you spend with her. I mean, I know she’s in great hands with you, Emma. I trust you, that is not it. But she has a point. You have a baby at home, and somehow, she needs you more than Reagan or I need you.”
“She thinks I’m placing my maternal need on you and Reagan?” I ask.
“I’m sorry if these words hurt, but yes, and I agree with her.” She walks off before I can say any more.
When I hear those words, the hurt that comes with them increases my already imminent panic attack. The triggers that set off my PTSD are the words or events I can’t quite prepare myself for, and Jolie’s words are just that, words I had not quite expected.
