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His palms were warm as he completely clasped each of my hands in his own, another sensation that I fought desperately to burn into my brain. And then he murmured gently—as best as he could with the exerted rhythm we’d created—“My beautiful girl, I’m so sorry.”
My movement stuttered and I was torn between ripping myself away from him to flee into the night and molding my body around his so that we could be one for just a little longer. The full moon continued to glow behind us, benevolently sharing its light so that I could see the innocence in Josh’s expression.
Even though we were wrapped up in each other in a carnal, hedonistic act, his admission was simple and pure. And the sorrowful creases in his face, the tear-glazed look in his brown eyes, only proved that to be so.
Still, after everything we’d put each other through and the emotional exhaustion creeping into my soul, all I could manage in response was to offer him the first genuine smile I’d had all evening. Josh returned it with a trembling grin of his own before his arms moved to wrap around me once more and hold me tightly against his chest.
When the impending heat of my orgasm threatened to consume me, I gasped out a single word—
“Now.”
Clashing against each other like rogue waves in a storm, Josh and I came, our squabbles and indiscretions momentarily forgotten as we shared one final, heart-stopping moment. Our arousal mingled and pooled at the base of Josh’s manhood and soaked into the crotch of my sleep shorts.
But the mess didn’t matter, not when I felt shame and frustration returning the longer I languidly lay on top of Josh. Gazing into his eyes and finding no hints of remorse, only hope for what could have been, I gingerly slipped off his lap and stared at the ceiling while he sat up slowly.
I refused to look at him while Josh dressed himself, certain that the sight of my marks on him would only make my futile jealousy grow. No, it was best to remember him from when he was mine, all flirtatious smirks and gruff charm. It would only make things worse if I focused on the negativity that had poisoned these last few months.
There was the soft creaking of the door again and then Josh spoke plainly, “I’ll never forget you, Red.”
Sprawled on the sheet with his spend dripping out of me, I searched for the perfect response that would show him I cared but that this was the end. And I settled on, “you’d better try.”
Chapter Seventeen
Amelia
Myalarmblaredintothe empty space of Josh’s guestroom at six in the morning and I finally rose from where I’d spent the rest of the night curled up in the sheets that smelled like him. Swapping out my passion-stained shorts for jeans and shoving them into the bottom of one of my suitcases, I took one last look around the room.
I had thought Josh’s arrival in the middle of the night had been another one of my dreams when I first opened my eyes at the dawn of a new day. And now, I was grateful that there were no physical signs he’d been here, other than the obvious which I planned to throw away when I got back to Natalie’s apartment.
Maybe I could pretend that the whole experience was a fairytale, a fantasy crafted by a lonely, young girl—only this time, good didn’t win. There were no sunsets to ride off into, no magical kisses that could right any wrong.
The sound of a cabinet opening in the kitchen drew me out of my thoughts, making me stiffen my posture and my expression as I prepared for the thirty-foot walk from this room to the front door.
Keeping my eyes stolidly on the white, wooden door to my freedom, bought with a sacrifice none of us would remember in ten years, my peripheral vision still caught Laila sitting at the kitchen table. I denied her a glance, perfectly content to let Josh’s ex-wife revel in the furthest reaches of my vision where she could smugly raise her mug at me in triumph and I could show her nothing but indifference.
My fingers wrapped around the doorknob and pulled, inviting a gust of autumn air into Josh’s mansion. Methodically setting my suitcases out on the front porch first and then my boxes, I half-hoped that the man himself would make an appearance and watch guiltily as I stepped out of his life.
But as I loaded my luggage into the car, their driver waiting patiently to take me away, he didn’t even step out to say goodbye. Bundling myself into the backseat, I supposed it was better to leave while Josh was still asleep. That way, their household staff could replace the sheets on the bed in the guestroom and tidy it up so that it would seem I’d never been there at all.
The only reminders he’d have would be the bruises and scratches decorating his tanned skin, and in time, those too would fade. I could only pray the residual love I had for him would do the same.
Joshua
When I’d stumbled back into my room after spending far too long claiming Amelia as my own one final time, I’d pressed myself against Laila’s back as she slept soundly, trying to convince myself that I’d made the right choice.
It wasn’t easy—I’d had to come up with even the smallest excuses, namely the age difference and the fact that the divorce hadn’t been finalized yet—but eventually I succumbed to sleep, dreaming about the life I could have had with Amelia.
As seemed to be my pattern, when I awoke and found Laila’s side of the bed cold, my heart began beating frantically at the thought that Amelia had already left. Sure enough, when I scrambled out into the kitchen, wearing my tightly-knotted robe to cover up the marks she’d left on me the night before, Laila looked up from her coffee with a smile. “She’s gone.”
In the back of my mind, a voice nagged at me that this was all my fault and reminded me that I had done nothing to keep her from leaving. It callously whispered that I was just getting worked up over having one of my toys taken away, that I would never be able to choose between them so Amelia had picked for me.
I took a couple steps back and peered into the now empty guestroom, devoid of any sign of Amelia—one of the staff was in there putting the last, fresh sham on a pillow. “Are you feeling alright, Joshie?” Laila asked, frowning at my lack of a response.
“Yes,” I finally replied, turning to face her again and walking numbly over to the dining table. Laila sat across from me, in the exact seat Amelia used to occupy when we ate together, and I joined her, taking care not to jostle my right knee too much.
“Well that’s good,” Laila grinned, her blonde hair framing her face like an angel, a sight I would have enjoyed on any morning other than this. “The girl didn’t leave me any instructions so I’m hoping you paid enough attention during those sessions to tell me what to do this afternoon.”
I held back a scoff—Amelia wouldn’t have left without giving my ex-wife every last paper full of notes on my care, but it seemed Laila had more important things to keep track of. “You’ll just be watching what I do and making sure I don’t reinjure myself,” I explained while staring at the table.
