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“Vivian, maybe it’s time that we—”
She went on her toes and silenced me with her lips. “Enough. We’ve discussed this. I’m okay with this arrangement, Charles. I know this is all you can give me right now.”
I stared down at her, my eyes firm. “This is a permanent situation for me. This is all I can give you ever, and you deserve more than what this is. You deserve a future with a guy who can stay the night. Vivian, you deserve dinner and a movie and not a couple of hours of sex every other week.”
Her hands trailed up my chest, slowly running up and down my nipple. “I look forward to our sex sessions every other week.”
I took her hands in mine, and my chest seized. I knew if I gave her an inch, she’d take it. Problem was, there was nothing in me left to give.
“That’s the thing. You should look forward to more than that.”
“I’m not looking for anything more, Charles.” She raised a fine, arched eyebrow. “I’m not the marrying or children type. You know this about me. And right now, this is all I have time for too.”
Beautiful yet cutthroat, Vivian looked like a woman but was internally built like a man. She was a partner at the law firm that we used. She wasn’t the lawyer we dealt with because I wasn’t going to complicate my life any further.
Like me, her time was limited, but the difference between us was that I chose to make time for my family.
“I don’t want to be that guy who gives you false hope. I’ve told you time and time again, Viv, that you have so much to offer.”
“Enough,” she said, her tone sharp yet playful. “You’ve always been honest with me. I’m an adult, Charles, and this is what I want.” She reached for the button on my slacks. “I want another hour, and that’s all.”
Her lips met mine, and I flinched. The thing with Vivian worked because in the moments I was with her, I disconnected my heart from my body. Because that heart—the organ that pumped blood to every part of my body—belonged to someone else. And that someone else was no longer alive.
* * *
The next morning, I walked into the kitchen and found Brad sitting at the kitchen table. He was a disheveled, hungover mess. His hair was not styled to his normal perfection, and his eyes were bloodshot. But he was dressed and all ready for work. This was nothing new, as this was his lifestyle that I was used to. As long as he showed up to work and did his job as VP and was present when the girls needed him, I didn’t care what he did afterward.
One day, someone would knock him on his ass. Hopefully, a woman who would tame his wild ways.
He stared up at me and waved a weak hand. “Hey. Where were you last night? You weren’t home when I left, which was pretty late.”
I swallowed and walked toward the coffee machine. “Vivian’s,” I said the word curtly, brooking no further comment.
I didn’t know why I felt guilty. We were all grown men. Some would judge his lifestyle more than my life choices. Still, I didn’t want to live this life. I’d tried to break it off with Vivian multiple times because I didn’t like how our relationship felt—like she was my dirty little secret.
I judged my moral compass based on my children—whether they would be proud of me. Would they be proud that their father was leaving the house to have sex with a woman he wasn’t involved with seriously?
No, they wouldn’t.
But I admitted, I had needs, and I was a weak man. It didn’t make it easier that Vivian was a proponent of our convenient relationship.
“You need to stop feeling guilty,” Brad said, reading my mind. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”
I ignored his comment. I didn’t judge Brad with his life choices. He never brought anyone home to meet the girls. That was an unspoken rule, and I knew he loved the girls like they were his own, so he wouldn’t anyway. He could live his life how he wanted to live his life … but me … I had children. Two girls. Without a mother. I needed to hold myself to a higher standard.
“Drink some water. Sober up before the girls get up,” I said.
“Nice to see you still hungover on a Monday morning,” Mason shot out as he strolled in, all ready for work in his crisp, pressed navy-blue suit, holding his portfolio. “Where did you go?”
Brad groaned in his misery. “Bar, dinner, and then back to Kelly’s house.”
“On a Sunday night?” Mason said, indignant. “And who the hell is Kelly?”
“My new girlfriend.” Brad rubbed at his head, squinting as though it hurt to open his eyes.
“You can’t call the new girl you just met at a bar your girlfriend.” Mason made a gagging noise in the back of his throat, as though he were going to throw up. “Thank God STDs are not airborne.”
Brad rubbed at his temple. “Shh. Quiet.” He rested his head against his hands. “Anyway, what’s on the agenda for today?”
