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I shook my head, frowning. “No… I’m not saying them. But I think our hour is done for the day, don’t you?”
He didn’t meet my gaze, seemingly gazing into his coffee mug as he murmured the words. “Yeah…yeah, I think it is.”
Then I fled to the bedroom in search of my clothes.
I listened intently for any noise from the living room as I hurriedly dressed. But I heard nothing. I wrote off the torn bra and panties completely. I could be irritated at the cost of replacing themlater.
My pussy getting wet all over again at the memory of how my unmentionables had become so wrecked was only going to make this worse.
Get out of here, Eva.
I thought he might have been in the kitchen but didn’t stick around to find out. I needed to go. I needed to be alone. Even if part of me wanted something else entirely. I fled outside, the sky gloomy with overcast, my heels splashing through a puddle, cold water spraying against my bare toes.
As I got in the car, keying the ignition, I spotted him on the front steps. He now wore a dark blue t-shirt along with his pajamas.
I rolled the window down as he made his way down the front porch stairs, his bare toes whispering through the emerald blades of grass of the lawn as he cut over to my car parked along the curb.
He crouched down at the passenger side, his arm laid along the bottom of the open window. He stared at me for a heartbeat. “I want to know one thing. I want the truth. Okay?”
I nodded, gripping the steering wheel.
“After you left. During the separation…did you fuck anyone?”
My breath caught in my chest in surprise, and I couldn’t help a bemused tilt of my head at the question. “No, Nick.”
His gaze flashed, his jaw tightening. “Date? Hang out with someone? Anything?”
“No.”
It hadn’t even crossed my mind.
His eyes blinked several times, his mouth falling open, then closing again. The strong column of his throat worked as he swallowed. “Okay…okay.”
Of course, I had to ask it, not even sure what I’d hoped he’d answer. “Did… did you?”
He seemed to flinch at the words, and for an instant, I thought he might lose his balance and fall back onto his ass. Then he regained his composure. “No.Fuckno. Not ever.”
We stared at one another for nearly a minute, the silence—and yet another revelation—heavy in the air between us.
“I…have to go.”
He patted the top of the door, then stood up. “Drive… drive safe, Eva.”
Then he turned away, making his way slowly up the walk, not looking back.
I pulled into the road, my throat suddenly tight.
There was one more thing, and I’d kept it from Nick, even now. And the memory of it twisted my broken heart as I brought the car up to speed.
Very close to the end, Davis was in hospice. I’d paid him a visit, just me, slipping out of the house without telling Nick.
I’d held Davis’ hand, and kissed the dry, almost parched skin of his forehead as he looked upon me. He was only semi-conscious most of the time, or so I thought, and I had almost jumped out of my chair when his voice, still gravelly, but a shadow of its former vigor and timbre, sounded next to me.
“Charlene, the hospice nurse…says I’m very close. That I can let go now, if I’m ready.”
I was already choked up, simultaneously overjoyed at his unexpected lucidity, and in agony at the knowledge this might be the last time I ever spoke to him.
“Are you ready?” It was a stupid thing to say, but I said it anyway.
