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* * *
I haven’t heard a word from him since our kiss at Dr. Bejanti’s office. No letter from Mark regarding the divorce, no call from his attorney. I’ve stopped looking at the gossip magazines, forbid myself to Google his name or scroll through the internet for pictures of them together. It is too painful to see them, too hurtful to know that they are happy and I am miserable.
* * *
I half-expect another psychiatry session to be required, given the disastrous conclusion of our group session. But no one has called, and nothing has come by mail. Something will soon. Our marriage’s death is imminent.
* * *
Dad is doing great. They have discovered his ailment, a rare blood disease that was killing his immune system and affecting his body’s ability to heal. There is a treatment, and he is in the first round of the new medication. Just this morning I reserved an apartment for him on the ground floor of my building. It seems a little premature, and I worry about jinxing his progress, but I want to be ready when he is released. This apartment will allow him to be independent, yet still close to me. Pam has already set me up with an at-home nurse, one who can help him once he leaves Crestridge.
* * *
Today is a quiet day. Dad has slept most of the morning, and I have read. It’s lasagna day in the cafeteria, and I am watching the clock for 11:30 a.m., which is the earliest time I can get a plate.
* * *
I end the call and return to his room, settling into the recliner, my coffee set on the table, my legs curling underneath me. I close my eyes. Just a quick nap, long enough to tide me the twenty-two minutes until lasagna time.
* * *
I drive, taking the long way home, through the hills, rolling down the windows so that the smell of fall and foliage fills my car. Then I slow, turning into my complex, coming to a sudden and sharp stop when I see the black Range Rover parked in front of my apartment, and the man that is leaning against its hood.
* * *
I stare at him through the windshield, watching as he straightens, looking at me, our eyes catching over fifty feet of broken blacktop. My foot wavers on the brake, my brain arguing with my heart, arguing with my instinct, my foot caught in a tug-of-war between the two. I put it out of its misery and put the car into park, opening the door and getting out in the middle of the lot.
* * *
He is so handsome it should be a sin. Standing tall, his hair messy, a loosened tie gaping over a white shirt and dark dress pants, his tan skin pulls the entire look together too effortlessly. His stature and manner reek of the casual perfection brought on by decades of wealth and breeding. He moves away from the car, stepping toward me, and I hold up a shaky hand. “Stop.”
* * *
I cannot take him any closer. Cannot have those lips coming into focus, not now that I know what they can do to me. Tearing down my walls and invading my heart, they will leave me gasping, tearful, and alone, while he returns to her. “What are you doing here, Nathan?”
* * *
He shoves his hands into his pockets, and stops, tilting his head. “I need to speak to you.” His voice grumbles, a gravelly, deep sound that makes me wet and has me clenching my hands into fists to keep from reaching out for him.
* * *
“Why?”
* * *
He steps forward, closer, his eyes on mine, everything else disappearing as he closes the gap and draws me in. I inhale sharply, his scent reaching me, my willpower eroding with every inch that I lose as he steps nearer. I am too weak. I cannot take another touch, another breath of him. I will break.
* * *
“I left her,” he says, stopping before me, his gentle hand grabbing my chin before it drops and pulling it back up, his blue eyes seducing me with their initial contact.
* * *
I frown, trying to make sense of his words. “Cecile? Why?”
* * *
“I didn’t want to do to her what I did to you.”
* * *
I narrow my eyes, stepping back, my elbow catching the side mirror of the car, causing a sharp spike of pain. “What? Fuck her and then send her to her room?”
* * *
He winces, his blue eyes clouding. “No. Be with her when I am in love with someone else.” He steps closer, his hands pushing my waist until I am against the car, my body responding, curving when he leans forward, pinning me with his body, the heat of his muscles hard against my frame.
