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He’s quick to remove his clothes and then he’s climbing over me, kissing away the last of my tears. There’s no foreplay, neither of us can wait. I’m already ready as I wrap my legs around his hips. He slides home with one powerful thrust. He begins to rock and it’s immediately apparent that the man has something to prove, and boy does he prove himself to be the best lover I could possibly want. The feel of him so deeply inside of me delivers pleasure through my entire body. We exhale together and then we’re kissing again as he languidly slides in and out, a tempo of sinful possession. Our lips never part, not even when I lift my legs to his shoulders so he can slide in deeper, not even when the movements grow frantic. The heat between us is as hot as our kiss.
But the emotion—the emotion is overwhelming. This can’t be a goodbye, I don’t want to accept it, but deep down I know I already have. And I suspect he has too because he slows down just before we come to take his time with me, like he can’t let this moment end. Maybe if we can stretch it out into forever, the rest of the world will be forced to move on and let us be.
We make love until neither of us can hold back, until our orgasms demand to be felt and then together give in. “You’re mine and I’m yours,” he demands, the climax ripping through us. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.” My voice is a husky whisper.
He pumps harder and my world is destroyed.
“Again.”
“I’m yours. I’m yours.”
My vision tunnels and he jerks inside of me, finishing deep and true. I want to keep him there inside of me forever, because he is mine. And I’ll always be his.
Always . . .
After it’s over, he stays inside of me as long as he can before finally pulling out and falling onto his back, eyes fluttering closed. The man is desperate for sleep and he gives into it immediately.
I watch him for a few minutes, tears burning the entire time.
I need to go. They’re waiting for me and I’ve already taken too long. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I manage to slip from the bed, clean myself up, and head downstairs without looking back at Ethan even once.
I force the tears to dry up before I leave the building, but I put on big sunglasses just in case before getting back into the waiting car.
Of course, Sybil waited. She knows me and she knew I would do the same thing she had to do once upon a time.
One day, he’ll fall for someone else and he’ll be grateful I had the strength to leave.
One day, I’ll have peace with this decision too, even if I never love like this again.
As much as I hate it, I’ve finally made my choice.
The days that follow are some of my hardest. I block Ethan’s number and try not to think about him, which is like trying not to breathe. At least Sybil is starting to warm up to me again. She says she wants to get back to work, that she needs to find her new normal sooner rather than later. I don’t know how to do the same.
The internship is still waiting for me and just the thought of it leaves me either numb or skirting a panic attack. How am I supposed to move on after all this?
But that’s life. It keeps going.
So after an emotional session with my therapist and a productive one with my psychiatrist, I adopt a “can-do” attitude and a higher dose of my anti-anxiety medication.
Laurence International’s board votes one of its members in as an interim-CEO until they can agree on someone long-term. I go to work, meeting Mr. Vale along with the other new interns. He doesn’t treat me any differently than the others, not like Gregory probably would’ve, so at least that’s good. I never wanted to be singled out. But still, seeing this new leader makes me think of my uncle and sends me down a negative shame spiral.
This is Gregory’s livelihood, his place of business, his legacy–––not Vale’s and not mine. Do I really have a right to be here?
The internship is with the tech department which turns out to be a good fit. I get to wear headphones while I work and have very few group projects. Sybil and I meet for lunch twice that first week and Aunt Amelia even comes in to check on us. She still treats me like her own daughter, and I don’t understand how she can be so forgiving. At least she’s still got Chandler and Hayes at home. Chandler keeps her busy and Hayes is focused on his SAT prep for the rest of the summer, alongside training for his upcoming varsity football season. The family seems to be accepting their new normal despite everything. Grief hits everybody differently and I’m certainly not the judge.
Before I know it, three weeks pass without Ethan. I count every day in my head like I’m a prisoner tracking time. We only had a week where we were actually together this summer, and only a week the two summers previous. How is it that those two weeks had such an impact on me? They felt like years, but they also felt like no time at all.
The emotional and physical intimacy that we shared was special, and even though I’m only twenty year -old, I don’t think I’ll ever find something as deep again. People would say I’m too young to know the difference but I’d disagree. I’ll always love Ethan and I’ll always be grateful that I got to experience his love for me, even if we broke each other in the end.
Maybe we were like Romeo and Juliet after all—marked for a tragedy.
After a particularly good day in the office, the kind that is busy and makes the clock spin faster, I stride out onto the street and head towards the subway entrance. I finally have a smile on my face and I let myself have it. Passing a newspaper stand, an image catches my attention. I turn, staring at the picture with the startling headline, reading it over and over in disbelief.
“Billionaire Heir Arrested for Manslaughter of Rival Businessman,” the headline reads, followed by three images of Ethan. The first is a corporate headshot of him in a suit and tie, the second is of a younger Ethan standing between his father and Gregory on a fishing trip, and the final shot is of him being taken into police custody.
Fifty-Seven
