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“There’s some dude waiting to talk to you? Said he’d wait for you outside in a black truck.”
“Who?” I say, immediately assuming it’s Owen. It would fit, being that we met in a similar setting to this. “Oh, you know what, it’s my husband. I’ll be back in fifteen,” I tell him and walk outside, looking for Owen’s black Silverado, only to find a black Ford Raptor instead.
My heart finds its way into my throat as I realize who’s actually here to see me. Dear lord, Bo is here. Taking those steps towards him are nearly impossible as my nerves take over all of my motor functions.
When I reach the passenger side window, I rap on the tinted glass and open the door.
“Hey, I say.”
“Get in,chère. We need to talk.”
“Um…” I look around wondering if anyone is watching me. “Bo, I have to get back to work in a few minutes. This isn’t the place or the time.”
His eyes are impatient as he grips the steering wheel so hard I can see his knuckles turn white. “Well then tell me when the hell is a good time.” He’s not yelling, but I can tell it’s taking a lot of self-control not to. “What we have to say won’t take that long. Get in.”
This damned thing in my chest is pounding so hard I feel like I may faint. After whatever conversation we have, I know I’m going to find it near impossible to go back to work. But even then, I comply, getting in the truck and closing the heavy door behind me.
“Cris, I need an answer.”
“An answer to what?” I ask.
“Who are you going to choose?”
“Bo,” I look at him in disbelief. “I gave you an answer from the start. Owen is my husband. I have to try to make it work.”
“Why? Because you feel that’s what you’re supposed to do, or because it’s what your heart is tellin’ you. Because, darlin’, my heart is telling me that we belong together.”
“Please… Please don’t,” I beg, covering my face with my hands. His large warm hand on my thigh brings my attention to it. I want to swap it away because it burns when he touches my skin, and at the same time, I want to move it higher. My core aches for his touch.
He reads it all over my face, of that I’m sure, and he takes advantage. His hand slowly makes its way up under my skirt, until his fingers lightly touch me there. I cover his hand with mine, holding it there, applying more pressure.
Licking my lips and closing my eyes, I moan and let my head drop back to the seat, grateful for the overly darkened windows that block us from view.
His face comes near my ear and he places a kiss there, then he says hoarsely, “Cris, we belong together. You know it just as I do.” He pushes my panties aside and slips a finger in. “This isn’t the only thing that connects us. Our souls are connected. We’re a part of each other. If we continue to deny it, it’s going to tear us to shreds. Please, come to me. I need you.” This last is said in a whisper as he pulls out.
I turn to him and our eyes connect, our souls. His words make me ache too much, confuse me and overwhelm me.
Unable to bare his heat, I move as far away from him as I can within the cabin. There is hurt in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything about it, simply reaches out to touch me.
It’s too much! I can’t handle it any longer. Knowing I would cave because his very presence addles my brain, I slap at his hand and scream at him. “Stop it! Do you know what you’re doing to me? I’m trying to save my marriage, but you’re always there, on me!” I cry, grabbing the fabric of my pink satin blouse and pulling it away from my skin in anger. “And you’re inside me!” I dig my nails into my scalp. It hurts, but the pain there barely registers as I continue my tirade. “Do you not see? I am in agony!”
Bo lunges for me, terror in his eyes at what he is seeing. I’m going crazy, this constant push to choose. Again, and again I am forced to choose, and every time it gets that much harder.
He holds me, his arms a tight vice around my shoulders. “Cris, shit, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like this.”
Breaking free of him I push away. “Please, Bo, leave me be. Let me go. I can’t be the reason my marriage fails. Please break this hold you have on me.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he says truthfully. “It’s like asking me not to breathe.”
“Owen is my husband. I love him.”
“Do you love me?” he asks.
He knows the answer to that. But it doesn’t matter. I have made up my mind to save my marriage. For my family. For Mia. I will not repeat the sins of my mother.
“Bo, you need to leave me alone. Let me forget.”
He says nothing to that, simply watches me, searching. Giving him nothing more than a cold stare, I leave the truck and slam the door behind me, breathing hard.
I have to forget. I have to forget. Please let me forget…
