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All those crummy love songs are wrong. There’s nothing good about love. It just opens the door to heartache and regret. I’ve decided that I want no part of that anymore.
I’m not going to waste another second thinking about Ethan and how he broke my heart yet again. He’s not worth the tears I’ve spent on him.
And that’s why I’m not even remotely tempted to look at his text that just came through. Nope not even remotely tempted.
Okay, maybe a little tempted. It’s not like he’d know that I peeked at it.
Now that I’m thinking about it, what if it’s important? It would be completely irresponsible of me to ignore an important text.
Doing my best to ignore my pounding heart, I open the message.
Ethan
We only have one month together before you leave. Please let me take you out for dinner tonight so that we can talk about your plans.
Can’t we just talk here?
No. Too many distractions. The nanny said she can stay with Matthew tonight. Please come out with me. I want to talk about Matthew.
Of course, he brought up Matthew. He knows I won’t refuse him when he brings Matthew into the equation. So, I guess I’m supposed to ignore what happened? I’m supposed to forget that he’s already sleeping with other women? I’m supposed to go out to dinner and pretend nothing happened.
I feel raw, spent, tired. I don’t know how I’ll be able to hold a conversation with Ethan when I feel like this. However, no matter how I feel, I must do this. We will eventually co-parent Matthew, so putting my feelings aside, even when it is the last thing I want to do, is the most important thing for my son.
OK. Where are we going, so that I know how to dress?
Ethan
Will you let me choose the place? Dress comfortably. I will pick you up at 6.
Sure, we can go wherever you like. Casual and low-key is perfect. I’ll be ready.
Even though going out with Ethan is going to be one of the most difficult things I’ve done in a while, a casual dinner without interruptions is probably a good idea. We have a lot to discuss with the move coming up. I want to make sure that I’m fair to Ethan. He loves Matthew, and I know it’s going to be difficult for him to live so far apart from us.
I glance at the clock and cringe when I see it’s already four-thirty. Ethan isn’t giving me a lot of time to get ready. Somehow, I need to fix these dark circles under my eyes. He said comfortably, but that doesn’t mean I need to look like the sludge at the bottom of a lake.
I hop in the shower and adjust the heat level to the hottest I can stand it. As the water cascades down, I begin to relax a little. I tilt my head up to absorb the spray as it rains down. I feel tension finally ease from my shoulders. I reach for my favorite lilac-scented shampoo but stop before my hand reaches the bottle. Ethan loves the smell of this shampoo. He once commented that it reminds him of us being in bed together every time he smells it.
Well, it’s my only dang shampoo, and I’m not going to stop using it just because of him. I grab the bottle defiantly and lather the shampoo over my hair.
And, no, I’m not going to let that shampoo bring up memories of us being in bed together. I slam my eyes closed to block out the images, but it only makes the pictures clearer. Of him on top of me. Of him inside of me. Of him sucking on my neck and moving his hips against me.
Of him groaning and telling me how much he wants me. His hard, naked body pressed against mine as we grind against each other. Our hips dancing to a beat only we hear.
Why am I thinking about him like this? Why now? I could picture a million other men, but my brain is firing off images of Ethan in rapid succession. It doesn’t matter that he’s the man that broke my heart. My attraction to him has never wavered. I try to insert an image of a mystery man, any other man, but it doesn’t work. I can only see Ethan.
My hand moves between my legs. I don’t even realize what I’m doing as my fingers explore the sensitive area. I’m tentative at first because I’ve never done this before, never touched myself like this. I circle the flesh around my clit, almost too embarrassed to touch there. I feel my cheeks heat up, either from the heat of the water or the heat of what my fingers are doing. My head falls back against the wall as my fingers increase their tempo, around and around.
The images won’t stop flashing in my tired, over-stimulated brain. Ethan is the one stroking now, and he’s bolder than I am. He knows what I like. He knows how to touch me and bring me to the edge. The images of him are so real to me now. When his fingers roam inside me, deeper and faster, the intensity increases to the point I feel like I’ll break.
When my orgasm hits unexpectedly, I exhale his name.
My body sags against the wall, and I open my eyes. I stay that way for several moments, trying to gather my composure.
I can’t wrap my mind around what just happened.
I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. I feel . . . relaxed. I feel good.
The relaxed feeling carries me through the rest of my shower. As I’m drying off with my white fluffy towel, I notice the time. The shower took longer than it should have. I still need to get ready.
