“I told her no. I walked out of the room, and she never brought it up again. I hated her at that moment, for asking me to do it, for getting sick in the first place. But you know what?”
Evan turned halfway toward Selena, who was perched on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped in front of her mouth, her eyes shining.
“I hated myself more than anything, for not being able to save her. And then when I couldn’t—for not being man enough to ease my wife’s pain, for letting her suffer.”
Evan’s jaw trembled, and he knew, if he let them, his teeth would chatter, for he was very cold at that moment—so cold. He wiped again at his face and glanced at Selena, who had a hand pressed to her mouth, her fingers long and white.
“So I carry that, and I get scared whenever someone else comes close. I want to go back and change things, change everything that’s happened, for Shaun and for Elle, for me, and when I realize I can’t, it’s just too much.”
This was as close as he could come to telling her about the clock and his dashed hopes. He turned back to the sunset, only a red smudge on the western horizon now, fading to pink and dark blue where the bruise of night began in the sky.
“I wonder if something in my mind broke a long time ago, if I’ve been crazy for a while, because sometimes it feels like the moorings are coming loose up here.”
Evan tapped his skull. He was as used and empty as a paper cup in a gutter. Any relief he might’ve had at speaking about Elle’s last request was overshadowed by the guilt of saying it out loud. It was like being condemned in front of a judge and jury.
He heard Selena rise from the sofa and begin to move across the living room toward the front door. He grimaced and waited for the sound of the knob being turned, but it didn’t come. Instead her hands gently gripped his sides, guided him around to face her. Her eyes gazed up into his, and she touched his face, traced the line of tears, and then leaned in close.
Their lips met, and heat bloomed within him. First in his stomach, and then lower. Selena moved closer to him, ran a hand down his neck, across his chest, around to his back. Evan wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the heat between them as her tongue darted into his mouth. She pulled him close, and he let out a small moan as her stomach brushed his growing erection. He tried to draw away then, embarrassed, but she pulled him even closer, ground his bulge against her. Their kiss broke, and she looked at him.
“Take me to your room, Evan.”
His heart did a stutter step, but he nodded and took her hand, leading her across the living room and down the hall. He couldn’t help but glance into Shaun’s room, and saw his sleeping face as they turned to the left. A truckload of shame fell on his shoulders. How could he do this across the hall from his son, whom he’d made with Elle, who was watching now? He could feel her eyes on him as Selena shut the door and came to him, finding his lips with hers in the twilit room.
Evan moved backward until his legs met the bed. He sat on it and momentarily parted from Selena before she straddled him, climbing onto his lap. She guided his shaking hands beneath the bottom of her blouse, onto the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. He wanted to tear her shirt off, to hear the buttons pop free as he exposed her, but he stopped, a sick ball of guilt burning in his stomach. It churned there, with thoughts of Elle in the same position as Selena so many times before. How she’d come to him in the shower sometimes, nude and smiling, washing him off before kneeling before him. The lace she’d worn on their first night together, and how he hadn’t lasted more than a few seconds. But he’d recuperated quickly, and she’d cried his name over and over again until they were both breathless.
Selena reached down between them and rubbed him through his jeans, but he was already softening. She kissed him again, but he sat back, withdrawing his hands from beneath her shirt.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes wide in the low light, her pupils huge with arousal.
“I can’t,” Evan said, not believing he’d spoken the words. “I want to, but I can’t, not now.”
She tried to read his expression in the falling dark—he assumed to see if he was bluffing, if there was something else there. She slowly slid off him, the sweetness of her heat leaving him, a pang of regret taking its place. He wanted to know her warmth, to slide into it, to bury his face in her cherry-blossom hair and feel himself release inside her.
Evan blinked, feeling himself rise again, desire coming over him in a new wave. He reached out and held her hand.
“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want you. I do, very, very much. But it’s still too soon. Do you understand?”
Selena let a long breath out and nodded. “Yes, of course I do.” She smoothed out her blouse and ran a quick hand through her hair. “I suppose I should go, it’s getting late.”
“Stay with me,” he said, holding on to her hand a little tighter. “Stay here tonight.”
He waited for her to pull away or shake her head, but she did neither.
“Okay.”
Evan guided her around to the other side of the bed, and she lay down on top of the blankets. He did the same, and after a bit of arranging, she scooted close to him, tucking her head against his chest, hugging his stomach with one arm. He put his hand on her waist and pulled her nearer. She sighed, and he could feel her breath, warm through his T-shirt.
The fatigue he’d battled all day collapsed on him at once, a gutted building falling in, piling in with the undeniable promise of rest. He tried to say good night but drifted off before he could form the words.
~