by E. R. Wade
I send Skylar a text to let her know that they’ll be joining us. Knowing her, she’ll be happy. She responds immediately saying the more, the merrier. I start to wonder what Julian would be doing tonight, wishing that he could join us but I quickly push my errant feelings away.
Standing up from the chair, I say to my friends, “Sorry guys, I have to go back to the office. I’m scheduled to do a walk-through of one of our new projects and I don’t want to be late.” Okay, so the appointment isn’t for another hour but it won’t hurt to go early. If I happen to see Julian by chance in the office, I’ll be professional. Obviously, my going back early to the office has nothing to do with him. I’m not hoping to bump into him or to catch a glimpse of him. No, absolutely not.
There’s no sign of him when I get to the office. And no, that’s not why I’m suddenly filled with a sense of disappointment.
At the end of the day, I leave the office at the same time with Alana, Erin and Lucas, and we walk to Union Square together. By the time we get to the theatre, Skylar is already waiting at the entrance. After everyone says their hellos, we go inside and take our seats.
Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Julian: Can we talk? Please. It’s been a week, and I’m not sure how I’ve survived it.
Of course, I ignore it. I’m not ready to talk. Yes, I miss him but I can’t be the other woman. The second text comes barely thirty minutes later.
Him: Sofia, let’s talk about this. We can meet anywhere you want. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.
I should tell him to lose my number, but instead I read his message over and over again.
“What's up?” Skylar whispers in my ear.
“Nothing,” I whisper back quickly. I press the button to turn off the screen, and drop the phone in my bag resolving not to look at it again until after the show.
My resolve doesn’t last long. I know the exact moment my phone starts buzzing. Yes, I know I should have been paying attention to the performance in front of me and not waiting for another text from him. Just because I know I have a new message doesn’t mean that I have to read it right away. I’ll wait till later. Thirty seconds later, I pull the phone out of my bag. Thank goodness that no one is privy to my thoughts to witness how I fold like a cheap suit. The text is, as expected, from Julian, and when I read it, I realize that I have just made a big mistake.
Him: I need you, Sofia.
My heart skips a couple of beats. I stare at the words on my screen. I need you, Sofia. Why didn’t I do what any serious person would do and turn off my phone? Because I left it on not wanting to miss his call or text, that’s why. And now I’m screwed. Those four words are playing in a continuous loop in my head. I can’t shake them off.
I need you, Sofia.
I need you, Sofia.
I need you, Sofia.
I don’t think I can ignore him any longer. The show is completely forgotten. There’s no way I can concentrate on it. My mind is stuck on him. What is he doing right now? I need him too, I admit to myself. There’s no harm in meeting with him. It’s just to talk, right? We’re both adults. We’ll just sit across from each other and have a conversation. I can totally stay unaffected by his potent masculinity. His beautiful blue eyes won’t ensnare me, and sure I can be immune to his strong, ripped and sexy body. When he’s talking, I won’t imagine his firm but soft lips on mine. I really won’t. Who am I kidding? Waves of desire unfurl within me, surging through my body. My nipples are as hard as pebbles, and my breasts are aching for his touch.
Damn. I miss him so much.
Skylar lays a hand on my arm, and she gives me a comforting squeeze. I decide to stop torturing myself. Dropping the phone back in my bag, I close my eyes and take deep, steadying breaths. Staring unseeingly at the stage in front of me, my mind refuses to focus on the musical.
Breathing a sigh of relief when the show finally ends, I decide to skip dinner and go home needing to sort through the emotional turmoil I’ve been experiencing all week. Everyone else is going to dinner and then to a club. I apologize and promise to buy the first round of drinks the next time we go out. Not seeing any passing taxi, I pull up the taxi app on my phone and request for one. Skylar says she’ll wait with me despite my insistence that she shouldn’t. She tells the others that she’ll catch up with them. I know she has something to say, and immediately the others start walking away, she starts talking.
“Babe.” Skylar turns to me with a serious expression. I know what, or rather who, she wants to talk about. She can’t have missed the number of times I’ve checked my phone tonight. She hasn’t mentioned him since my big reveal on Monday, and I sincerely appreciate that. She knows me well enough to know that I needed the space to think things true and just breathe. “It’s been a week. You need to talk to him. That’s the only way you can move forward. Nothing you don’t want to happen will happen.”
“I know. I just . . .” I trail off not knowing how to articulate everything I am feeling.
“How long do you think you can keep avoiding him?” Seeing that I don’t have anything to say, she continues. “I can see that you miss him, and judging by his constant texts, I’m sure he misses you too. Just talk to him. After that, you can decide what you want to do. Okay?”
“Okay,” I answer weakly.
“That should be your cab.” As the car pulls up in front of us, I confirm that the alphanumeric characters on the license plate are the same as what’s on the app. I kiss Skylar on the cheek and hug her goodbye.
“Have fun tonight,” I tell her.
“Don’t worry. I plan to,” she says with a cheeky wink.
When I get home, I go straight to bed. Hours later, I’m still tossing and turning. I give up trying to get some sleep, and switch on the table lamp. Checking my phone for the time, I see it’s almost two o’clock and I have no new messages. I open up Julian’s last text message and type a response.
Me: We can talk this evening at my place. 5pm
A new message pops up on my screen almost immediately.
Him: I’ll be there
He’s still awake. I wonder if he’s also having trouble sleeping or if I woke him up. Now that I know I’m going to see him in fifteen hours, some of my anxiety has dissipated. Maybe I can finally get some sleep. I plan to tidy my apartment in the morning, and also start work on some preliminary sketches.
TWENTY-FIVE
Sofia
Julian is standing in the doorway of my apartment. I spent the last hour before I buzzed him in trying to calm my nerves. I’m wearing a pair of worn dark blue jeans and a black short-sleeved T-shirt. My hair is pulled back into a ponytail. I hope I look calm and unaffected by him even though I’m feeling exactly the opposite.
He looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair looks tousled, like he's been running his fingers through it. He also has light stubble on his cheeks and chin. He obviously hasn't shaved today. I’ve never seen him unshaven. He still looks absolutely gorgeous and his eyes are staring at me intensely, like he wants to eat me up.
Julian breaks the silence. “Hey.” His voice is even and intense. “You look great.”
I have to swallow the huge lump in my throat before I respond. “Thank you. Please come in.” I move out of his way to make sure there’s no physical contact between us. I need to keep my wits about me. He sits on the loveseat and I opt for the accent chair across him. “So talk. I’m listening.”
He nods in response. “I’d like to start by saying again that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he says quietly, sounding sincere. I say silent. I need more than an apology from him, I need an explanation.
“Addison and I met at a party in our senior year in college, and dated for four years. We got married, and after the first six months which were great, our marriage became rocky. I had started the firm less than a year before the wedding so I was working a lot. I guess we were both dissatisfied with the marriage. We were unhappy but didn't
want to acknowledge it. I didn't want to give up. I was committed to her, and I was determined to make us work. Our marriage wasn’t perfect but I never for a second thought of being with anyone else.”
Hearing him talk about his marriage is hard, but I know I need to hear it and he needs to talk about it.
“The night of the accident, we had a huge argument at home before she drove off with a packed suitcase. She left screaming that she’s done with me and she was in love with the father of her child. I don’t know what set her off that night. She may have been fed up with the deception. A couple of hours later, two policemen came to the house to inform me that she was in the hospital. Her car was hit by a drunk driver. Addison wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. Luckily, someone was driving by just as the accident happened and called an ambulance immediately.”
Julian’s voice takes on a slightly somber note. “At the hospital, the doctor informed us – her family and me – that she had a swelling in her brain and she had slipped into a coma. She lost the baby and hasn’t woken up since that night. The other driver didn’t make it – he died at the scene of the accident.”
Tragic. One life lost, and another hanging in the balance. I want to comfort him with words but I stay silent, letting him get it all out.
“Seeing her lying pale and injured on the hospital bed almost crushed me. She looked lifeless. It was so damned scary. Maybe if I had fought for her . . . If I hadn't let her walk through the door, she would not have been in an accident.” He runs his hand through his gorgeous blond hair, ruffling it and mussing it up even more. “It became important to me to find the man responsible for putting her in hospital fighting for her life, the man who caused the death of the baby I thought was mine. I had to find him.”
His blue eyes seem a little darker. I know he’s reliving all the painful memories, but he continues talking without pausing, obviously determined to tell me everything.
“I think I became slightly obsessed with finding out his identity – this person who contributed to the breakdown of my marriage and put my wife’s life at risk, the man she cheated on me with. I went through all the things she had left behind – her laptop, her journal, anything I could get my hands on. I went a little crazy when I didn’t find any incriminating evidence, even in her emails. Finally, I got her phone back from the police. It was in her car, and besides a cracked screen, it was working fine. Nothing prepared me for what I would find.” Some emotion akin to disgust flickers briefly in his gaze. “There were numerous texts and phone calls between Addison and Sean. And a lot of intimate pictures. Sean was the last person I thought would betray me. We’d been best friends for twenty years. They had been having an affair for a year. She was leaving me for him.” He takes a deep breath and admits, “Sofia, I lost it that night. I went to his house and he ended up in hospital for a night.”
Horrified, I ask, “Your best friend was sleeping with your wife for a year? It was his baby?”
“Yeah,” he mutters.
I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. My emotions are swinging wildly from shock to anger to sadness. I can’t begin to imagine what he must have gone through. The betrayal by his wife and best friend. It must have been awful. No wonder he didn’t want to get close to me.
It suddenly occurs to me that he must have loved her a lot if he married her. The only thing on my mind right now is to find out if he’s still in love with her. Is he waiting for her to wake up so they can patch up their relationship? What about his friend, Sean? Is he out of the picture?
“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you before this started,” he says, gesturing between us with his hand. His startling blue eyes are on me, watching me. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” I ask when I finally find my voice.
“It wasn’t because I wanted to deceive you. It’s a part of my life I wish I could erase. I haven’t spoken to anyone about this in two years. You’re the first.” He pauses. “Even my family don’t talk about it, at least not when I’m there. It’s not the easiest thing for me to talk about.”
I can understand that. His wife and his best friend . . . How does anyone get over something like that? It’s probably difficult for him to trust anyone. I know that Julian could have gotten away with not telling me, and then end whatever this is between us. I would have been none the wiser until much later, if ever. So, there must be a reason why he’s telling me.
“Why now? Why did you decide to come clean?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he says, “Because you deserve to know the truth . . . and I don’t want this to stand in the way of us being together.”
Feeling stunned, I stare at him. What exactly is he saying? I don’t want to misunderstand him. I’m not going to assume anything with Julian. He has to say what he means clearly. I’ve already put too much on the line.
“So you haven’t had a relationship since Addison?”
“No.”
“But you’ve had sex?” The thought of Julian with any woman, even casually, makes me upset.
“No, I haven’t,” he says with disarming frankness, looking intently at me. His light blue gaze is steady and there’s sincerity in his eyes.
“That’s over two years ago,” I point out, even though I know he’s telling the truth.
“I know.”
“Why me?” My heart is beating hard. My entire focus is on him. I need to hear his response.
“Because you’re you.” His eyes are locked on me and are burning with emotion.
“What does that mean?”
Still looking steadily and intently at me, he says, “It means that once I saw you, I didn’t stand a chance.” I don’t know what to say to that but I’m grateful I’m sitting down.
The emotion radiating from him is what I’ve yearned for but I can’t be happy or excited about it because he is married. How do I get over that? How can anyone? I know he said that his wife is the one who asked for a divorce and she was having sex with his friend, but what if she wants him back when she wakes up?
“What’s going to happen when she wakes up?” I want him to know that I have no intention of being the other woman, even if I’m hopelessly in love with him. Just the thought of being his mistress makes me feel sick to my stomach. I would rather move to another continent than be that woman.
“Sofia, my marriage is over. We’ll start divorce proceedings. She doesn’t want to stay married to me any more than I want to continue with the farce of a marriage.”
I believe him. It suddenly feels so simple.
“I’ve never admitted this to anyone, but the night Addison left me, I was more devastated that the baby wasn’t mine than the reality of my marriage being over. It made me realize that I didn’t love Addison as much as I thought I did,” he confesses. I am unable to take my eyes off him as I digest what he’s just revealed.
“You’re very calm. I thought you’d be yelling at me,” he says quietly.
“I probably should be,” I respond. I’m actually not a fan of yelling. I believe people just need to talk to each other to resolve issues. My parents’ marriage wasn't perfect but they never raised their voices at each other.
“What happened to Sean?” I ask curiously.
“He’s married with a kid.”
“What?” I gasp, surprised he moved on so fast.
“Yeah. He didn’t waste any time.” I can clearly see the disgust on Julian’s face. “Asshole,” he mutters under his breath.
“So, I take it you’re not friends anymore?” I ask carefully.
“No. That’s over too. I would never be able to trust him again.”
“That’s understandable.” I get up and move to sit beside him. He watches me as I take the seat next to him. I can’t decipher what he’s thinking. “I’m sorry you went through that,” I say softly.
“Don’t be. It’s brought me right here to you.” He takes my hand in his, and the feel of his skin on mine, after what feels like an ino
rdinate amount of time spent apart, sends electric shocks up my arm and all over my body. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Breathe. I have to breathe. I take a deep breath, then another. I need more oxygen in my lungs, and I need the tingling in my fingers and in my body to stop so that I can keep a clear head. At this moment, I know without a doubt that I belong to Julian. I love him, I trust him, and I know he’s being completely honest with me.
“Sofia, I can’t apologize enough for hurting you. I’m sorry I withheld the truth. You deserve much better than this, better than me.” He hesitates, and then laces my fingers with his. “I want to be with you.”
I give him a searching look. All I see is him. “I want to be with you too.” Only you. There’s no one else but you.
“Are you sure? I come with some . . .” His voice suddenly trails off.
I can't walk away from him even if I wanted to.
“I’m sure, but I have to be honest with you. I have no idea how to handle this,” I say, waving my hand between us. “I mean, you’re still married.”
“I know. That will be taken care of as soon as it’s possible,” he says quickly and reassuringly.
“How will this work?” As much as I want to be with him, I’m a little worried about how we’ll manage the situation.
“I want to be with you. I want to date you, take you out to dinner, and wake up next to you. I want you to let me take care of you. I want to make you happy always.” He looks so sincere. His blue eyes are clear and hopeful.
My hands tighten in his. “I want that too,” I say softly. I am so in love with this man. I want to make him happy and take care of him too. I want to always be there for him,
“Sofia, I don’t know how long it will take before I’m divorced.” I know he needs to point out the reality that we may be together this way for an uncertain amount of time. “It’s been over two years and the situation could go on for much longer, probably years.” He looks nervous like he expects that pointing out the gravity of the situation will scare me away. “We expected Addison to be comatose for anything between a couple of days to a couple of weeks. We had no idea that she’d be unconscious for this long.”
