Breathing deeply, I return upstairs to my wife and slip into bed beside her. I smell her skin and listen to her breathing, but I feel alone. I’ve learned a lot about love with Brie, and I’ve never felt what I feel for her for anyone else.
Meadow.
I broke her heart. I tried to walk away early on, but she told me she wanted me as a friend, and then the situation between us went too far. She knew, and she still took that risk, and so did I. I feel like a piece of shit for starting anything with her. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I wonder if she were still alive what life would be like for me now.
Brie knew about her, and when she confronted me, I lied. She trusted me. I don’t know how she feels now. I don’t even trust myself anymore. When you think you know a person inside and out and they do something that shakes the very foundation of your world, it leaves you scrambling, trying to figure out what you did to deserve it. That’s what telling Brie about my affair would do. She would blame herself. I wasn’t strong enough. My weakness would destroy her. It would destroy me. It would destroy us.
Her steady breath wraps around me as I band my arms around her and pull her closer to me. I run my fingers through her silken hair and place soft kisses on the crown of her head. I gaze at her peaceful face, tracing her full ruby lips with my finger. She tilts her head back, her breath soft on my cheek. I press my lips to hers gently, and she sighs, opening her lips urgently seeking mine. I relent because I need her more than ever. Selfish me.
“James,” she whimpers with a hint of a smile on her lips. “I love you.” My icy heart immediately sparks. Warmth spreads throughout my body from hearing her words and feeling her body flush with mine. A feeling as perfect as the sun kissing my skin.
“I love you, too, B.”
I suddenly ache to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, and to see the spark in her eye that was there the day we first met and the day we exchanged vows. I promised her everything four years ago. I promised myself that in the past few months, I have managed to push our young marriage to the brink of destruction.
Lying and now cheating. It’s all been unnecessary bullshit. These thoughts cross my mind all the time. I realize I’m trapped in my own hell and to say I’m going fucking crazy would be the understatement of the century. I glance over at the time, four fucking thirty. Fuck. This shit happens to me every night. I close my eyes and clench my jaw, silently hoping that sleep takes me under for once. Eventually, it comes with the one thought lingering in my mind.
What the fuck have I done?
I pull off my gray suit jacket and fold it over my arm as I cut across the street to the Starbucks before I head to the office. With the increased alcohol consumption and the lack of sleep over the last week, I’ve been making frequent trips here. I’ve been leaving the house much earlier to stay on top of my responsibilities in the office and because I’m not ready and don’t know how to face Brie without cracking the shell of the ugly deceitful pig I’ve become.
I’m hit by a blast of frosty air as I enter a welcome reprieve from the late July morning heat. I’m thankful there’s not a long line snaking around the cafe at eight in the morning, just the scruffy looking, tall barista behind the counter stocking cups and an attractive brunette pouring sugar into her coffee. As I approach the counter, I swallow silently and clear my throat when recognizing the female gracing my presence. I’d rather suffer through a mile-long line than cross paths with this woman, but if I don’t acknowledge her, she will go back to Brie and tell her I ignored her, and that would only cause alarm bells to sound.
“Ava?”
She whirls around, her hazel eyes flash with dark spears of apathy as she stirs her coffee. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt with a tight button-down short-sleeved top. Her brown hair is loose around her shoulders with her expertly applied, but minimal, makeup accentuating her classic European features.
Today Ava reminds me of a black widow ready to catch me in a web. A web of my own fucking lies. That’s my guilt talking. Guilt’s a hideous thing. I feel like the character in Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart.” My damn lie is going to fester inside me until I go mad and finally break my silence.
“James, how are you?” There’s no sincerity in her voice, nothing pleasant, like the sound of screeching tires. She lifts her cup, pauses, and looks closely at me, trying to figure me out before she takes a sip. She smiles tightly.
Brie, how much have you told her?
I understand having friends in which to confide, but how much of our dirty laundry has she shared? Fuck! I know she talks to Brie. I know without a doubt she knows all about our troubled marriage. She most likely knows my history with Mason, too, and that’s probably promoting her to act like a cold-hearted bitch to me right now.
And then there’s Mason. Now, he knows my business, sort of. At the bar, he thought I was cheating, and now all the pieces have fallen into place for him. I did the deed now. Would he ever go to Brie? He wouldn’t. Would he? He barely knows her. Shit, but I recall how he looked at Brie. She’s stunning, smart, and kind. Who wouldn’t be drawn to her? It drives me nuts that he’s obviously attracted to my wife. It was as plain as the fucking nose on his face that I wouldn’t mind connecting my fist with.
“Good, and you?” I lift my eyes from her emotionless face to scan the drink menu behind the counter.
“Couldn’t be better.” She smirks as she puts the lid onto her coffee, shooting her gaze toward the exit and back to me. “You look like shit, James. Have you not been sleeping well?” She lifts a brow and adjusts the strap on her black leather duffel bag, surely full of all that non-important shit women carry around for no reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a pair of hair trimmers hiding in that enormous sack.
She used to cut my hair, but I stopped going to her after she botched it. On purpose no doubt. Losing James Fleming, the big-time DA, as a regular customer is insignificant to her. I’d rather take my chances at Supercuts than have her standing behind me with a pair of scissors.
“Gee...thanks, Ava.” I laugh.
“Long nights can do that to you. I understand.” She tucks her hair behind her ear as her bracelets jingle, cascading down her arm like a river of gold.
“Work...long nights at the office can do that to you.”
“I’m sure...” she trails off, pursing her lips. “How is Lisa working out for ya?” She takes another sip of coffee, waiting for my reply.
I stare dumbly at her, scratching my forehead in frustration.
“She’s my colleague. I’m the DA.”
“I know exactly who you are, but what you are is a different story.”
“What I am to you doesn’t matter. What matters is what I am to Brie. I don’t know what she—”
“She’s told me enough to make me believe that you’re a fucking lousy-ass husband,” she cuts me off in a low, harsh voice as a customer passes by, giving us a lip curl.
“You know nothing.” I toss my coat over my shoulder. “I’m working on it.”
“Not hard enough.”
“Listen, you’re not our marriage counselor, all right? If we need one down the road, Brie and I will discuss it.”
“Down the road? Are you serious?” she asks, poking her finger in my chest. “You need to get a clue, James Fleming. You may be running out of blacktop and time.”
I step back and gently push her finger away from me, placing it at her side with a forced smile.
“Thank you for your kind words, Ava.”
“Brie is my friend.” She pulls away, aggravated.
“I know that, and I’m her husband.”
“Well, then act like one,” she says with bite to her voice. We stand for a moment, silently staring at each other, both clearly running out of things to say when Ava’s phone starts ringing from within her handbag. She frantically digs for it, as our eyes remain locked. Thankfully, she manages to locate the damn thing and glances at the screen. “I’m so sorry for cutting our enlightening conve
rsation short, but I need to take this call,” she says with blatant sarcasm as she pivots on her black stiletto heels toward the door.
“That’s fine. It was a pleasure running into you,” I say with a chuckle. I focus on her retreating form and run my fingers through my hair, thankful for the call coming in when it did.
“I can’t say the same,” she tosses over her shoulder before she finally exits the coffee shop, leaving the remnants of her faint floral perfume hovering all around me.
I shake my head in mock amusement and turn to the barista. I read his name off his nametag, lift my eyes to his, and smile.
“David, I need a large espresso, double shot.”
He stares at me, giving me a crooked smile. “James Fleming, the district attorney, right?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Saw your picture in the paper a few times and my dad has mentioned your name.” He stands behind the counter and grabs a large cup to start my order.
“Really? I hope it’s all good. I know I’ve made some enemies in court.”
“Yes.” He chuckles. “Nothing bad. I just recently decided to go to law school after graduating with a degree in international affairs from Pace University’s Lubin School of Business.”
“Good university,” I say as I pull out my wallet.
“Yeah and fucking expensive as hell. I’m always hearing Pops complain about it, but that’s why I’m here working two jobs to help the old man out.”
I’ve met plenty of people in law school who put themselves through school just like this guy working two to three jobs to pay for the privilege of having that Harvard degree hanging on their wall. I’ve admired them all for their drive and their passion to succeed, regardless of the obstacles.
“So, you got any ideas on where you plan to go to law school?”
“I have to take the LSATs first, and we’ll see,” he replies, studying my face. “Harvard, maybe?”
I let out a laugh thinking about my college days. Life was simpler, less complicated. Without the responsibilities and expectations I have to bear now.
“Harvard. I bet Pops won’t be too happy with that choice. “
“We’ll see how things go with the financial situation. It would be nice to go there, but such a long shot,” he says, eyeing my wallet before turning his back to me to make my coffee.
As I wait for my coffee, my phone alerts me of a text. Frowning, I pull my phone free from my pocket. Just once I wish I could be left alone for five fucking minutes out of the day. The nerves in my fingers tingle like live wires when my mother’s text comes across. I’m most definitely not in the mood to deal with her, so I neglect to respond and slip my phone back into my pocket. After what happened at the party with Brie and with work and life being the way it is, I want to put a little more time and space between us.
David’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Large espresso, double shot.” He slides my steaming cup of coffee across the counter.
I tilt my head up, and with a tired smile, I hand him my credit card. “Thanks,” I say, grabbing my caffeine fix.
“No problem.”
He cashes me out and hands me back my credit card as I take a sip of coffee.
“Well, good luck with law school,” I say.
“Thanks, man, and by the way, tell your wife Brie I said hi. I haven’t seen her in a couple of days.”
“You know my wife?”
“Sure. She’s mentioned you a couple of times when she has come in to get her coffee. She stops by most days after lunch.”
I flinch in mild shock and clear my throat.
“She does love her caffeine.” It’s all I can manage as I turn to leave the café. My head throbs, and my pulse ratchets up, disturbed that I don’t even know what my wife does during the day because I don’t take the time to ask, that I barely make time for her and for us. I made a promise to her while I stared into her trusting eyes with every intention of following through. Or was I caught up in the fairytale that Brie planned with her mother? The angelic white, the vibrant flowers, all the beautiful objects, and intentions disguised the deceit lurking in my soul and in my heart. I didn’t think I had it in me, but I proved that theory wrong.
“I’ll personally take care of the case,” I grumble.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s the only way to contain the fire.” My voice is on edge.
“Will people in the office start asking questions?”
“Why would they? It’s like any other case that gets thrown onto my lap...every day. I’ll make this one my priority.” Picking up the bottle of scotch, I pour my second glass since I started this conversation fifteen minutes ago.
“Is it enough?”
“What the hell do you want from me?” I fume. After gulping down half of the scotch, I set down the tumbler and spin violently around in my chair. I stare out the window as the sun sets in the horizon. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I glare at my watch. It’s already past eight o’clock. Fuck. Time flies when you’re overworked and overstressed.
“I didn’t mean...”
“Don’t say that. You know it’s a lie.” I look down and growl. My hands curl, and I tremble with pent-up rage—anger directed at myself for agreeing to the bullshit I’ve got myself messed up in. “Listen, I’m tired, and I don’t want to think about this right now.”
I close Meadow’s file and shove it into my briefcase. The idea of going home, seeing my wife, and having sex is what I need. Brie will be home for me. She always is, regardless of my indiscretion and my aloofness. I’m despicable, I know, but she’s my wife. I cracked, but I still need her.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going home...home to my wife.” I whirl back around and throw down the rest of the scotch, slamming the tumbler onto my desk. The vicious sound echoes through my office, which has become my prison these days.
“Well, that’s nice. How are you—”
“We? How are we doing?” I interrupt with hostility. “I don’t have time for damn small talk, and do you really give a shit? You’re only calling to make sure I don’t fuck this up. Admit it.”
A few seconds pass. There’s nothing but silence on the other end. “Looks like I hit a sour note. I’m sorry. Speaking of Brie, does...does she remember?”
Thoughts in my head tangle as I wrestle with another small hiccup in all of this—Brie’s recollection of that night. I prodded her for days just to get a feel, but she was too drunk to remember anything. Since then, I haven’t mentioned anything. I don’t want to jostle her memory. I want to forget it all happened, and Brie is better off not knowing.
“No,” I say with scorn, sending all sense of decorum out the fucking window.
“Are you lying to me?”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Fine...fine. I understand, James. I don’t want to keep you any longer. Sounds like you had a long day.”
“Yes, I’ve had enough for one day.”
“So...we’ll talk soon then?”
“Yeah, don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
I hang up without saying goodbye. I lean back in my chair, chuckling at my fucked-up situation. There’s no room to be polite in my field. People are always asking me for favors, ready to throw me under the bus if I don’t pull my weight and keep my promises. I detest dealing with demanding, ruthless individuals.
Have I become like them? Uncaring, selfish, entitled, and self-centered? I have. Haven’t I?
Or perhaps I’ve always been a piece of shit, and I’m now just realizing it because there’s a chance I could get caught. Caught with my pants down. Literally. Everything at the moment seems to be unraveling. Everything that I tried so hard to hide for so long.
The house is quiet, apart from soft music coming from the living room. I expect to see Brie, but when I find the room barren, a cold brick settles in my stomach. I call out her name and make my way to the dimly lit kitchen. Now, that brick in my gut has turned into
a brick wall. The empty table, situated under the glass chandelier, is the focal point. Candlelight glints off the fine china, a half-empty bottle of wine, and a wine glass with Brie’s lips imprinted on the rim sit on the table. Picking up the glass, I drink what’s left, wanting to taste her on my lips. She was expecting me, and as usual, I didn’t show up. It’s after nine o’clock.
How long did I think she was going to wait for me?
There’s only so much a person will take until they fight back and challenge. I wonder when Brie will finally break and stand up to me. Who wouldn’t leave me if they knew all the shady things I’ve done?
The fucking possibility makes my body tense with…fear? Is that what it is, or is it relief? How will I react? What would I say?
Hearing the shower running stop, I rush upstairs. My heart picks up its pace as tension shoots through my body, knowing what I’ve done and there’s a possibility my accepting wife may at some point in the near future abandon me.
Why do I even risk it?
My mind races as I arrive in the bedroom to see Brie dropping the towel at her feet, my gaze hungry along her curves, and her beautiful body candy to my eyes. I want to devour her in that second, take her in my arms, and cover her with supple kisses, but I hide, watching her as she brushes her hair and slips into a black silk nightie. Adrenaline floods through me, hits me like a gale-force wind. I want to stalk over to her and ravage her, but I refrain for the moment. A tingle of fire skitters along my spine and thickens my cock until it locks my body and consumes me.
Fuck.
She turns, and her eyes spark with emotion when she finally notices me standing in the shadows. Clenching my jaw, I stroll forward and stop just before her. As I cup her cheek, she drops her eyes to the floor. I lift her chin with my finger, so I can gaze into her wounded eyes. The pain reflected in her face is almost too much to bear. Her lips part with a labored breath before she braces her palm against my chest. I hold her wrists with both hands, the challenge in her eyes stealing my breath because this look is not one I’m familiar with.
Love Is Louder Page 25
