by Kelly Myers
The second line was abysmal. What exactly did I mean by “helping me out”? Was I referring to the place to stay or to my virginity.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
Then I took the note and taped it to the door. It was pathetic, but it would have to do. William would be awake any second, and I didn’t want to face him. It would be too awkward and strange.
Last night, we had floated on waves of desire. We didn’t need to speak or discuss anything, we had just felt our way.
In the light of the breaking day, it was different. William might feel guilty, and I would barely be able to speak from embarrassment.
It would all be too much.
It was easier for me to just leave. The note would suffice.
I looked back over my shoulder once more, and then ducked out to the hallway.
After a quick cab ride and a bit of a wait at Grand Central Station, I was on the Metro North toward Connecticut.
Only when the train was a few miles out of Manhattan did I relax.
It wasn’t that I thought William was going to chase me down at the train station. Or maybe he would out of misplaced guilt.
I just knew I couldn’t see him again, not right away.
I didn’t regret anything though. The evening before had been magical, and I knew I would cherish it forever.
But one magical night couldn’t make a relationship.
There was too much against us. William’s bachelor ways, my own desire for a life partner and a family, not to mention Richard’s inevitable disapproval. We weren’t on the best of terms, especially after last night. I canceled our lunch for today.
I needed to stop thinking about William.
“He’s not for me,” I whispered.
Maybe if I said it over and over, I would learn the lesson, like a child writing lines at school.
He’s not for me. He’s not for me. He’s not for me.
But every time I looked out the window at the lush green scenery, I just kept picturing William’s face, right after he had kissed me.
Chapter Eight
William
Thank you for helping me out last night!
I read the line for what had to be the hundredth time.
What could she possibly mean by that? It was infuriating.
Even more frustrating was the sign off:
Best,
Olivia
As if she was writing a work email to a colleague she didn’t even know that well.
I pushed the note away once again and leaned back in my desk chair.
I was still in my apartment, and it was just past eight. I had to be at the office within the hour, but for the first time in a long time, not even work could distract me.
When I woke to see an empty space where Olivia should have been in the bed, I had assumed she had wandered to the kitchen to help herself to food. I would have liked to cook her something or make her coffee, but I was delighted that she was comfortable enough to find her own food.
When I found the kitchen empty as well, I had been puzzled. I checked the bathrooms and even the spare room.
Then I found the note.
It had rendered me speechless. And I was never speechless.
It just proved how strange Olivia could be. Just when I thought I had her figured out, she went and fled my apartment at the break of dawn.
It made no sense. She had been into it the night before. I knew I hadn’t misread the signs.
I felt my crotch tightening just thinking about how she had said please, again and again. How she had visibly delighted in my touch, in my kiss.
I would have thought she would have wanted to linger. To perhaps even discuss the prior night’s events. Olivia was sensible after all, she was the type to crave clear communication.
But this – this was a curveball. And I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
My heart sank as I considered the obvious: she regretted what had happened.
I pictured a lone Olivia on the train to Connecticut, tears streaking down her face as she mourned the loss of her virtue.
No, she would never cry in public. She didn’t like to draw attention to herself like that. She would bottle her sadness up and stow it away, deep inside.
I didn’t like that. If she was sad, I wanted to know so I could comfort her. I could hold her while she cried.
Although if she was crying over something I had done, it wouldn’t exactly be a great comfort.
I stood up and started to get ready for work. Guilt settled into my stomach as I went over all the things I had done wrong.
After sex, I had been proud. I had congratulated myself on giving Olivia true pleasure during her first time. I had figured we could talk in the morning, and I had gone straight to sleep.
That had been a mistake. I should have talked to her. Explained how it would be. She had probably assumed this was a one-night stand. I should have clarified.
Although what exactly would I have said?
All I knew was that it had not been a one-night stand. Whatever the night before had been, it had not been casual. And it was not something I could only do once. I wanted her. I wanted to repeat everything we had done and then do several other things with her.
But did that mean I wanted a serious future with Olivia?
Perhaps I hadn’t discussed things with her the night before because I didn’t have the answers. Olivia deserved clarity, and I still wasn’t sure about anything.
She was special. Olivia was different than any woman I had ever been with. It wasn’t just lust (although there was plenty of that), I actually liked her. I enjoyed the time I spent with Olivia. I liked talking to her.
I never thought I would settle down. If my career as a divorce attorney had taught me anything, it was that it took something special to make a marriage last. It wasn’t all about love. A successful couple required devotion and respect.
So I had long ago vowed to never commit unless I could commit fully. I had fallen in love a time or two, but it had never been enough to make me risk a marriage.
Maybe Olivia was the one.
I frowned at the thought. Then I grabbed my suitcase and headed out the door.
It was true that I was crazy about her. No other woman had ever occupied my thoughts to such a degree.
Last night, things had changed. My fantasies had come true and instead of sating my desire, sex with Olivia had caused an unquenchable thirst. I knew that I could bed her many times and never grow tired of her.
She could be a true partner. I could see a future with her. I would take her around the world, to all the places I had visited and see them through her eyes. She would be able to do whatever she wanted, and I would support her. Olivia would banish the ennui; Olivia would make my life exciting again.
I jumped into the car I had called to take me to the office and pulled out my phone. Nothing from Olivia. She did have my cell number. She could text me if she wanted. Hell, she could even email me like she had yesterday. I just needed something from her. Something more than that paltry note.
Too soon, the car pulled up at my office. I took a breath. I needed to focus. I couldn’t show up to work distracted.
I also needed to stop waiting for her to come to me. I could message her.
I turned my phone over in my hands once before clicking on her contact.
Then I paused.
Yes, I could see a future with Olivia. When I envisioned just the two of us, everything was magnificent. Me and Olivia traveling and fucking and enjoying life together.
But as soon as I allowed others into my vision, the future got more complicated.
Richard would be furious. He would think I was taking advantage of her. And even if he moved past that, he would be a pain to be related to. He would want me to join him in his more risky investments, and he would expect me to support him in all his rowdy shenanigans. At some point, he would need to borrow money from me.
Moving beyond Richard, the sight wasn’t pretty. I had
never met Olivia’s mother, but I couldn’t imagine she would be thrilled at the idea of her only daughter being with an old man.
The rest of the world would judge as well. Olivia would be viewed differently. People would call her a gold-digger or worse. People would call me a creep, or think I was just with her because she was so young.
I could handle it. I had lived long enough that I didn’t really care what people said about me.
It would be harder for Olivia. She was trying to figure out who she wanted to be and what she wanted to do in life. I would be a burden to her. Every picture of us that she posted on social media would be scrutinized. Not that Olivia was big into social media (she didn’t even own a smartphone), but still. Every time we went out in public holding hands, people would whisper.
I knew I wasn’t bad-looking. Women of all ages were attracted to me, and it wasn’t totally unfeasible that a young woman would want me. But I didn’t look thirty. Far from it.
The car pulled up at the office, and I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket as I stepped out.
Before I reached out to Olivia, I had to ask myself the critical question: was I prepared to give Olivia everything?
Not just a few months of dating and some wild nights of pleasure. Not even several years of a serious relationship.
Olivia was an all-or-nothing type of girl. She didn’t do casual, I was sure of it. If she did, she would have lost her virginity ages ago.
So if I was going to pursue her, I was going to have to be all-in. I wasn’t ready for that. My entire life, I had been self-aware, and I could be honest about my true feelings in the moment.
The thought of fully committing to one person, even if it was the most wonderful woman I had ever met, did not sit well with me.
Maybe it would work out. Maybe.
And if it didn’t work out, someone was going to end up hurt.
I wasn’t ready to take that kind of risk.
That being said, was I just supposed to not reach out to Olivia? But then she would really think I was ok with her abrupt exit in the morning. And I wasn’t ok with it. Her sneaking out made the act seem as if it was somehow tainted or dirty. It hadn’t been tainted; it had been beautiful.
And to be honest, even after my most casual hook-ups, I still made coffee and breakfast for the woman in the morning. It was a decent thing to do.
As I stepped into the elevator at my office building, I decided to reconsider the issue at the end of the day. I had to focus on work, and my inner turmoil couldn’t show on my face.
I disciplined my features into a firm cast and stepped into my office.
Usually, work was enough to distract me from any personal concern, but as the day wore on, I kept thinking about Olivia in the back of my mind.
I noted mid-morning when she would be back in Connecticut. I wondered if she would go to work on the farm or head back to her home. What did her house look like? A bungalow maybe, with flowers painted on the wall? And what did she eat for lunch?
By mid-afternoon, I knew I was going to have to call or text her.
I couldn’t exist in this strange limbo. I had to see her again. Then maybe I would understand what the best way forward was.
And more than that, I just needed to see her. Every cell in my body yearned for hers. I felt cheated that I hadn’t been able to wake up with her in my arms and then kiss her softly until she was awake as well.
By the end of the work day, part of me wanted to get my car out of the garage and drive up to Connecticut.
But that would be too much. It would definitely alarm Olivia, and besides, she had just endured an eventful twenty-four hours. She needed some space.
I was going to call her though. She couldn’t just leave a stiff note and expect me to take it. I was going to have to set the record straight on that at least.
And I was going to say whatever I had to say to see her again.
I grinned to myself as I mused over all the things I could do to induce Olivia to never leave my apartment without a proper farewell again.
Olivia had to learn one very important lesson: if she was going to run away, I was always going to give chase.
And I always won in the end.
Chapter Nine
Olivia
It came to me as I was out in the field planting gooseberries.
There was only one way I was getting through this mess I had created with William Hart. I had to quit him cold turkey.
No more contact, no more casual coffees. I had chosen to sleep with him, and that meant things would forever be awkward between us. I would never be able to look him in the eye ever again. It was easier all around if we just never saw each other again. I had to instigate a no-contact rule.
It wouldn’t be that hard. It was the middle of the afternoon, and I had left his apartment hours ago, but he still hadn’t emailed or texted me.
He wasn’t that close to Richard, and we certainly didn’t share any other acquaintances or mix in the same social circles. I could cut William Hart out of my life. I could do it.
I didn’t regret anything. In some books and movies, girls sobbed after they lost their virginity. They talked about how they were ruined or how they could never erase the choice they had made.
I didn’t feel that way. In fact, I had felt alive all day. It was as if William had awakened a part of me I didn’t know existed. I knew what it was now to be taken care of in bed. To be pleased until I lost all sense of thought.
The moment had been powerful and intense, but it did hurt knowing it was just another Tuesday for William.
He probably had women in and out of that chic apartment all the time. In fact, most women he probably took out on a real date before taking them to the apartment.
Not that I wanted a date with William. I couldn’t imagine it. He would take me some place fancy where I would feel like a hillbilly in my cheap clothes. All the other women in the place would be wearing expertly-applied makeup, and I would be sitting there with my cherry-flavored chapstick. William would look across at me over his medium-rare steak and see that I was just a kid.
He had probably already realized that. The fact that I had heard nothing from him meant that he was fine with my quitting cold turkey plan as well.
I leaned back on my haunches and wiped my sweaty brow. I probably had dirt all over my face. If William could see me now, he wouldn’t want me.
That was fine. I didn’t want to change who I was. I just had to find someone else who accepted me. And hopefully that someone could make me scream like I had last night.
A cold seed of fear bloomed in my stomach.
What if I never had sex like that again? What if William was the best I ever had, and I was going to spend the rest of my life with a man who fell short?
That couldn’t be how it worked. I heard sex with different guys was always different, and you had to work to find the chemistry sometimes. Not that I had to work very hard with William last night.
My face flushed just thinking about it.
It didn’t mean anything though. Sexual chemistry was one facet of a relationship. Sure, we had been well-suited in bed (or at least he suited me well, I didn’t know how I stacked up for him), but that wasn’t everything. It took other things for a relationship to work.
And I wanted a relationship. I didn’t know much about love and sex, but I did know that I was not a casual fling type of person. I was loyal, and I wanted someone to be loyal to me.
More than anything else, I wanted someone to sit quietly in the evenings with me. Someone to share a home-cooked meal with. Someone to have coffee with in the morning.
That would never be William. He was wonderful and exciting, but he was not going to settle down, and if he ever did, it wouldn’t be with me. It would be with a woman who wore elegant low-cut gowns and had cheekbones that could cut glass.
That evening, I settled down in my bed to watch the cheesiest romantic-comedy I could find. But fifteen minutes into the movie, I was alrea
dy bored. Everything was so cookie-cutter. The heroine was pretty and perfect. The hero was bumbling and totally age-appropriate. All their challenges seemed trivial and easy to overcome.
What if it wasn’t that simple? What if the only guy I wanted, all of society told me I shouldn’t want because he was old enough to be my father? What if the guy I fell for was embarrassed to be seen with me in public?
I switched off the rom-com and laid back against my pillows.
The worst part was, I did want to see him again. It would never happen. It would be too awkward. A conversation would be unbearable. Looking into his eyes would be agony.
And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it had felt when he kissed me.
I yearned for his touch like I had never yearned for anything before. When I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine his finger was once again expertly stroking me. Only it wasn’t real. He wasn’t in my bed in Connecticut.
In all likelihood, he was in his bed with some other woman. Jealousy coursed through me. I wanted him all to myself. Despite all rhyme and reason, I longed to stake a claim on him.
I gritted my teeth and ordered myself to think of other things. I had to consider my future, not my lust.
I wanted kids and a home. William would never provide those things to me.
But he would make such a good father. The image of William with a toddler on his shoulders sprung unbidden to my mind. He would be playful and kind and wise.
I groaned and rolled over to my side, squeezing my eyes shut to rid myself of the useless fantasy.
He likely didn’t want kids. He was nearly forty-two years old. If he wanted kids, he would have had them by now.
Then again, men didn’t have time limits on those things. Maybe he did want kids, he was just taking his time with the issue.
Maybe he hasn’t met the right person, a small hopeful voice whispered in the back of my head.
I pushed that voice away. I was so not the right person for William, it wasn’t even funny.
