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I stand and walk towards the bank of windows overlooking the street. I stare down. There are a few people scattered along the sidewalk. I spot a couple holding hands. There's a woman pushing a stroller while a very happy toddler laughs and tries to bat the low hanging leaves off the tress they pass. It's all so simple and so uncomplicated.
"Those papers changed my life, beautiful."
I turn to see him still seated on the couch, his eyes cast downward towards his phone.
"Is our deal on hold now?"
He bursts out laughing. "Of course it is. As soon as the dust settles and Mark is locked up, the company is completely mine."
I don't move from my spot by the windows. I need physical distance from him in this moment. "How long before the dust settles?"
"A year. Maybe more?" He throws it out as more a question than an answer.
"You're really happy, aren't you?" I'm not sure why I want to know that. Or why I need confirmation of it. The wide grin that has been on his face since he waltzed through the door is answer enough.
"Ecstatic." He leaps from his spot on the couch and moves quickly towards me. "Almost as happy as when I'm inside you."
I feel him slip his hand into my dress. "You're going to fuck me now?"
"I don't have a lot of time." He's pulling at the buttons, exposing my bra. His hands dive to unfasten his belt.
"How thoughtful of you to pencil me in." I push the dress from my shoulders. "Do you want to just fuck me here bent over the windowsill so we don't waste any time walking to the bed?"
He freezes. His hands stop in mid-air. His shirt unbuttoned, his slacks hanging open. "Ivy," he whispers my name.
"You better get started." I bite my lip to hold back a sob. "You need to leave soon."
"What's wrong, beautiful?" His hand grazes me cheek and I pull back.
"I can't do this anymore." I reach to pull my dress back on. "I can't."
"Do what?" he asks, his voice slightly raised.
"I'm so tired." I move away from him now, seeking out the comfort of the chair. I sink into its cushion. I fumble with the buttons on the front of my dress before I give up in frustration.
His legs come into view and I watch as he silently sits on the coffee table. "What's going on?"
I close my eyes. I pull in a deep breath to cage my emotions. "Our relationship is all about Mark."
He shakes his head. "No, that's not true. There's much more to it than that."
"We always come back to him. To how much you hate him."
"He ruined my father's life." He barks the words at me.
"Your father is dead. He wasn’t perfect." I try to find compassion within the words. "No one is perfect."
He slides his hand along his thigh, balling it into a fist when it reaches his knee. "You're going to defend that bastard, aren't you?'
"Who?"
"Mark?" he seethes. "That's what all this is about, isn't it? That's why you wouldn't fuck me just now?"
The irony of his words isn't lost on me and I can't control the laugh that falls out. "Wow."
"Wow?" He stands and rapidly does up the buttons on his shirt, before tucking it in and fastening his belt.
"You always go back to Mark. Always." I pull in a deep breath and exhale slowly.
