As my fingertips skimmed the outside of her soft legs, I caressed her cheek with mine and closed my eyes, taking it all in. I wanted nothing more than to tell her everything, confess my love for her and beg her to stay forever. I wanted to confess how I felt and the things I wished for our future. But I knew I had to wait. We’d been through so much over the years, going all the way back to before Vegas, and I needed to warm her up to the idea of a real forever with me. So I bit my tongue and hummed while slowly dragging her skirt up, baring her to me.
“Really, Holden.” My name was barely a whisper on her tongue. Her words said one thing, but her tone conveyed another—her mounting desires. “We don’t have time. We’ll be late if you keep this up.”
“Do you really want me to stop?”
“No,” she breathed out. And rather than say anything else, she unbuttoned my pants and slid down the zipper. “But I need more than you just getting me off by touching me. I need you inside me. Fuck me, Holden.”
Her boldness fueled me. I yanked her off the vanity, causing her to yelp in surprise. But I didn’t pause. I spun her around and held her by her shoulder, pressing into her until she caught herself with her hands on the granite, facing the mirror. I didn’t even bother to drop my pants and remove her skirt. I simply bunched the fabric over her ass, pulled her thong to the side, and lined myself up with her entrance. One thrust and I was deep inside, her warm heat embracing me. It took everything in me to not come right then.
Her face flushed, and her mouth dropped open, but that didn’t stop her from watching it all in the mirror. The one thing I hated was not being able to see her fingers work over her clit due to the skirt hiding it from view. But other than that, it was perfection. And when she squeezed me with her orgasm, I gave her everything I had, filling her with every drop, and in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop the thought of one day impregnating her.
We both stood there, weak and breathless, trying to regain our strength to finish getting ready. After a few minutes, I kissed her shoulder and left her in the bathroom to clean up while I went into the kitchen for a glass of water.
And I would take back that decision in a second if it was possible.
As I stood leaning against the countertop, gulping down the cool liquid, her phone chimed in front of me. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I wouldn’t have looked at it or even wondered who it was or what they wanted. But with the way it was angled, I couldn’t miss his name as it lit up the screen. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I couldn’t miss what he said: Did he fall for it?
It took full minutes, which felt like hours, to pick up her phone and unlock the screen. I didn’t want to, for numerous reasons. I wanted to trust her, to believe she hadn’t lied. I also wanted to live in the fantasy I’d created in my mind, if only for a little longer. I’d fallen in love with the picture I’d easily painted, the one of us years and years from now with an entire family built off love and trust and devotion.
But that all vanished once my eyes latched onto the words on her screen. The many, many words that created conversations between her and this other man. Syllables containing betrayal and lies, proving I’d been wrong about everything this entire time. Even if I wanted to fantasize and say she’d chosen me—or at the very least, chosen to see where things would go between the two of us—I couldn’t. Not with their conversation in front of me.
Connor: Are you in love with him?
Janelle: No.
Connor: Then what are you waiting on?
Janelle: Give me a week. I think I have an idea.
Connor: I don’t have much choice do I?
The time stamp showed a week had passed between that message and the next one. However, when I thought back to the dates around the last conversation, the one when he asked if she loved me and she told him no, it had been less than two weeks. And if my memory served me correctly, that had been around the time when she’d had a change of heart. When we’d decided to see where things would go between us before making any decisions regarding the divorce. When affection had turned from friendship to complete commitment. At least on my part. Now I knew it was only playacting on hers.
Connor: It’s been a week. I need an update.
Janelle: Be patient.
Connor: I’ve been patient. I want my money.
Janelle: So do I. Trust me, I have things I need it for.
Connor: Then what’s taking you so long???
Janelle: I can’t just walk out the door or force him to sign the papers. If I don’t play by his rules, he won’t sign, and then we’ll have nothing. So you need to chill the fuck out. OK? We still have time.
By that timestamp, I was sure we had already had the discussion. The one where she’d accepted the storefront I’d offered her for her business. Reading her words about wanting the money ate at me. They crawled into my chest and festered until I couldn’t breathe. But I forced myself to continue reading. I needed the truth.
Connor: The show wants an update.
Janelle: I know. They’ve been blowing up my phone. Figured they’d eventually reach out to you.
Connor: What am I supposed to tell them?
Janelle: IDC. We have until the beginning of July. Tell them we decided to get married in June.
Connor: Why the hell are we waiting that long?!
Janelle: I didn’t say we were…just tell THEM that.
The next text messages were random and all from the last few days. It didn’t appear she’d responded to any of them, but I wasn’t stupid. I was very aware you could delete texts. I wasn’t certain if she had, and I hoped these being left behind meant she hadn’t, because I couldn’t fathom deleting only her texts and not the others.
Connor: So what’s the progress with him?
Connor: Hello??
Connor: What is this plan of yours?
Connor: Did he fall for it?
But it didn’t truly matter if she’d deleted them. There was enough damning evidence left behind that couldn’t be ignored. I couldn’t excuse anything she’d told him, and even more so, the questions her words created in my mind forced me to reexamine everything I’d thought to be true.
She wanted the money—that had never been a secret—but the one thing I’d always refused to think about was her taking any of mine. From the beginning, we had always discussed a clean divorce. I’d sign the papers, and she’d carry on with her life. Done deal. Clean break. No arguing, no fighting over possessions. Nothing. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d had a different plan all along. One I didn’t know about.