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I spin her around, press her down on the top of the piano and lift her skirt. She clutches the gleaming hardwood top with one hand and reaches behind her, in the direction of my jeans, with the other. I’m already a step ahead of her and her hand brushes against my cock just as it springs free from my boxers.
I’m half out of my mind with grief and denial, and the other half is consumed by fear.
“I need inside you— just need to show you it doesn’t matter.” My throat is dry and the words come out in choppy grunts as I line myself up with her entrance and press forward. Her cunt contracts greedily around my head and my chest tightens in anticipation of being inside the woman who has come to mean everything to me.
“Carter—” she exhales my name and I hear a plea in her voice and she pushes back against me.
I look down and my heart stops. She struggling, crying and my hand is on her neck., holding her down. The realization buckles my knees and fills me with horror, the likes of which I’ve never known.
I let go of her and step back immediately, my heart in my throat as I watch her slumps against the piano and pulls her dress down.
“Beth, —” She turns around to face me and ice seeps into my veins.
Her eyes are completely shuttered. There isn’t a hint of emotion in them. I take a step toward her and she puts a hand up, palm facing me and I stop. Even though it feels like my heart is tearing in two.
Her shoulders are square, her back is ramrod straight, and her voice is tight with control.
The church is quiet, but I hear condemnation in the silence. I can’t believe what I almost did. To a woman who…I shake my head hard to dislodge the thought. I can’t bring myself to call her the same thing I call Nadia.
“I don’t know what any of this means.” Her voice is low and steady. “But I know we have to go our separate ways. I can’t ask you to forget what happened. But, I want you to try.”
I laugh darkly, scoffing at her impossibly calm command.
“You aren’t shocked by those results. You knew…” It’s an observation, not a question.
“You look alike.” For a brief moment, sadness cracks the stoic mask of indifference she’s wearing. I wish it hadn’t. It’s harder to see her heartbreak than it is to watch her pretend that she’s okay.
“I’m so sorry,” I say and it sounds so feeble. It’s so inadequate. But it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said in my life.
A single tear spills down her cheek and I want to wipe it away.
“I thought, that I’d found my forever in you. Instead, the truth of you, is my apocalypse.” She says in a voice whose calm belies the shit storm we’ve found ourselves in.
I know exactly what she means because I feel the same way.
I nod.
“There’s no rescue, just…”
“Recovery,” she finishes for me.
I huff bitterly. For once, she got it wrong.
“I was going to say… there’s nothing.”
She frowns in disagreement.
“That’s not true. This happened for a reason. You live in New York. I live in the ass-crack of nowhere. Our paths should never have crossed. But they did. In ways that made this moment unavoidable. Everything that’s happened since the moment we drew our first breaths until now, brought us here.”
She smiles and my gut twists. How can she smile? I feel like I’ll never know what it feels like to be happy again. She seems like she’s already over it all.
“You’re very Zen about all of this,” I accuse her.
She shakes her head.
“I’ve spent the last year pretending to be someone else.” She runs a hand over her hair. “I hated it. I But, now I’m grateful I have another person to be. So I can forget this.”
“How can you say that?”
