Staring into her eyes I can see her gears turning as she tries to figure out her next move. I know I need to say something. I don't have an explanation though. I have no idea why Sarah’s name flew out of my mouth in that moment. But like the true dumb ass that I am, I just lie still and wait for her reaction.
Finally after a few minutes of silence, she screams, "Shit, I knew it! You still love her!" She jumps out of bed and begins whirling around the room grabbing random clothing as she goes. Damn, I really should have said something before her mind went there.
"Jesse, get back here."
Her eyes are wild, looking like she just woke from a horrible nightmare. It's hard to tell though if she is genuinely hurt or just downright pissed that I would say something so off the charts stupid.
"Are you kidding me? You just called me your wife's name. In bed. Oh God, that makes it sound even worse. She isn't even your ex-wife." She's talking a mile a minute, working herself into more of a frenzy. "Christ, how is this even happening right now? Damn it, where is my bra?!" She screams the last sentence as if it's the punctuation to her rage.
"Jesse, STOP!" Wrapping the sheet around my waist, I cautiously step in her direction, afraid that if I move too fast she'll bolt. I gently grab her wrists as she frantically tries to pull her shirt over her head, apparently giving up on finding the bra all together.
"I need to go." She pulls away snatching her hands out of my grasp while backing towards the door. She doesn't get far before I grab her perfectly curved waist, letting my fingers splay across to her back. God, I'd give anything just to get her back in bed.
"Please don't do this, Jess. It just came out. I'm sorry...I-" I trail off mumbling something about how it means absolutely nothing. But I'm not really sure what it means at all.
"You're still in love with her." It's not a question, it's a declaration of fact, and just enough to push me over the edge of rational thinking. I should be apologizing to her, but something inside me snaps. Using her to replace Sarah isn't just her worst fear, it's mine as well.
"What do you want me to say? That I've never been with a woman before you? For fuck sake, you know I can't tell you that!" I yell as she stands perfectly still, startled by my sudden outburst. She's oblivious to why the verbal shit stick she just poked me with has lit me on fire. I can see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but I can't find it in myself to care right now.
Still wrapped in a sheet, I start pacing the room feeling trapped for the very first time since Jesse landed in my bed. Call me crazy, but I don't want to sit here and hash out my feelings like it's a god damned therapy session. I want to walk across the room, wrap her soft body in my arms and pretend this never happened. Maybe take her back to the room, lay her across the bed and bury myself to the hilt, losing myself inside her. At the rate I'm going, I'll be impressed if she ever lets me touch her again. But again, like a dumb ass, I say nothing else.
"Just tell me you are not still in love with her," she whispers the words carefully, almost begging.
Seeing her so lost and helpless is my undoing. I stride over to her losing my anger and sheet on the way, reaching out to grab her only to have her swat my hands away.
"Please, Brett. Just answer the damn question. Are you still in love with her?"
The threatened tears finally escape the corner of her eyes. I manage to wrap my arms around her shoulders pulling her to my chest. But she doesn't nestle close. Her arms hang at her side and her eyes are glazed over as she looks anywhere but at me. A steady stream of tears are falling from her face, soaking my arm. She never moves a muscle, not even to wipe her eyes. This might be the worst punishment of all.
I could deal with her being angry. I could deal with her turning into a crazy woman, throwing things around the room. But to look down at this woman who is usually so vibrant and energetic, and seeing her so defeated is more than I can take. I just don't have an answer to give her. Especially not the answer she wants to hear. Am I still in love with Sarah? No. Yes. Fuck if I know.
I do know I'm not going to figure this all out right now. Where is the rewind button, like in that silly Adam Sandler movie? Christ, just let me go back five minutes and say the right woman’s name. A Freudian slip...a Freudian fucking slip is going to cause me to lose the best thing that has happened to me in four years. And I can do nothing but sit here and try to hold on to yet another broken woman.
"I have to go," she repeats.
Maybe I should let her leave. Maybe if she goes home and sleeps on it she'll forget all about the fact that I called her my wife's name. Shit, I am such a bastard. Who does that? I'll tell you who...Brett fucking Sharp. Asshole extraordinaire.
I could go into hiding and reemerge a few days from now when she's had a chance to cool off. We can go right back to the crazy sex-filled serious, yet unlabeled relationship we have had for the last few months. Nothing will change. Even my ridiculously hopeful mind knows this is a bullshit plan.