Chapter 17
I bake a batch of Timmy’s favorite cookies while he sits at the kitchen table and tells me all about his time with his aunt and cousins.
“I’m so glad you didn’t let me back out of going.”
“I knew you’d have a good time.”
“Thanks Mom.”
Timmy gives me a hug, doing his best to touch me as little as possible while doing it. I can’t wait till we get past these awkward teenage years and he’s more confident in who he is again. We stay up late talking and laughing. To my surprise, Timmy asks to go through our digital pictures together so that I can tell him the story behind each photo when he was a baby.
Sitting together and laughing helps me enjoy reflecting on the memories. I haven’t looked at the pictures in a while because the memories were too painful. This is the first time in two years I’m excited to replay those moments in my mind.
“I never saw Dad so beside himself as he was with you this day.” I increase the size of the picture of Timmy as a toddler. “You took all the pots and pans out of the cabinet and crawled in, all the way in the back, and it was so deep, it was hard to get you out.”
A chill kisses my skin and it’s covered with goose bumps. I’m not cold on the inside though. I feel a warmth in my chest. A healing warmth, and I feel like it’s a hug from Mike. I close my eyes, and I swear I can almost smell his cologne.
I know it’s crazy. I’m grasping for straws when there’s nothing but air. At first I wonder if this is more guilt over my feelings for Chance. I know it’s not, because thinking of the new man in my life doesn’t hurt at all. Instead of tearing up and falling apart, I’m at peace. Soothed.
“Hey, Mom,” Timmy comes out of his room while I rinse the dishes off and place them in the dishwasher. “Arianna invited me over tomorrow. Is it okay if I go hangout with her?
“Of course.”
“Awesome.”
I grab my phone when I get into bed. No messages. Then again, I’m not surprised. Chance said he didn’t want to impede on my time with Timmy. I want him to know he’s on my mind.
Me: I miss you.
Chance: Can’t wait for you to show me how much next time I see you.
Me: How about you direct me and I’ll put on a show.
Chance: Can’t wait.
Me: Lustful dreams.
Chance: Only if they’re of you.
I lay back in bed, relaxed, happy, and ready for tomorrow, no matter what it brings. My life is finally back on track.
*
After dropping Timmy off at Arianna’s house, I head over to Chance’s. The second I walk through the door, we’re pawing at each other as if we haven’t seen each other in months rather than a day. Chance wastes no time getting me out of my clothes and tossing his to the ground.
Still in the hallway, he bends me over at the waist so that my hands are against the wall. Once Chance enters me I push back against him taking control. I enjoy being taken from behind, but instead of waiting for him to please me, I take the responsibility for both of our organisms.
“That’s right, baby. Fuck me.” Chance holds onto my hips. His fingers dig into me as his breathing changes. But he does nothing to take the control away.
I know he’s close. I feel strong, powerful, bringing him to the edge of his climax. I consider slowing down and teasing him, but don’t have time to make the decision. His grip on me tightens and he starts to thrust his hips, knowing I brought him to the brink carries me there as well. In seconds my own orgasm builds and overwhelms me.
We spend the next hour and a half snuggled together on the couch talking. Joking around. My phone alarm chimes and I know it’s time to go pick Timmy up.
“This is going to be the longest week of my life,” Chance says, walking me to the door.
“I know. I’ll need to come up with a shit-ton of excuses to sneak over here,” I say stepping out the front door.
“Wait!” Chance says when I head for my car. He reaches for my hand and pulls me back. “One more kiss to hold me over.”
“I’m a sucker for those eyes of yours.”
“I’m a sucker for you.”
Chance’s lips bush against mine, soft and gentle. If this kiss is meant to hold him over, I want it to rile him up, make him hard and horny so that he thinks of me every minute until we see each other again. I press my chest against his, wind my fingers in his hair and swipe my tongue across his lips.
“Mmm.” Chance’s fingers thread through my hair. He holds me close and deepens the kiss.
“I really have to go.”
“I know. It’s just so hard watching you leave.”
“Just a few more days before we tell Timmy. Then it won’t be so hard.”
“I know. Now get going before I pull you back in the house and have my way with you.”
*
I notice the sign as soon as I pull up to Arianna’s house. It’s pretty hard to miss, so I know it wasn’t there when I dropped Timmy off. For Sale stands out in big, bold letters. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. She’s moving. I hope it’s not far. Timmy’s going to be crushed.
I don’t blame her mother. It’s hard to live as if your husband is going to walk through the door one day when you know he’s not. That he never will. I thought about moving after Mike died, because it hurt so much to be in our house without him. I couldn’t bring myself to pack up his things and leave the home we shared. Because it was ours. It will always be ours. If I move, where ever I go it will just be mine, and Mike’s presence in my life will be erased.
I know that’s not really the case. I carry my husband around in my heart. In the memories and the traditions we started that I keep up. It’s in my head that I can’t rationalize moving. Even though being in our house hurts, brings flashbacks of things we said or did in virtually every spot, I have a hard time moving on.
At least I did, before Chance.
I guess it’s different being married to a cop. Every time he walks out the door, you’re left wondering if he’ll be home that night. If you’ll ever see him again. And if you do, will it be dead or alive? It’s a risk they take to serve and protect. A risk your whole family takes on.
Timmy gets in the car and slams the door. He slouches down in his seat. Oh yeah, this is hitting him hard. Maybe this isn’t the right time to tell Timmy about Chance and me. He has enough on his plate.
*
“Arianna’s moving,” I tell Chance the next night when we “accidentally” meet up at Starbucks.
“So?”
“Maybe we should wait to tell Timmy?”
With his hands folded together in front of his mouth, Chance leans across the table. “Why not just rip the Band-Aid off all at once?”
“Because I’m worried about him.”
“You said he was happy and had a great time with your sister-in-law last week.”
“He did. He was. But now he’s upset and depressed.”
“I promise, it’s going to be okay.” Chance reaches out to touch me. I scan the shop to make sure no one is looking. Seeing my reaction, Chance retracts his hand. He leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath. “Whatever. We’ll play it your way.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m frustrated. I thought we were in a good place.”
“We were. I mean we are.” I whisper shout. “This has nothing to do with you and me. This is just about doing what’s right for my son.”
“You’re wrong.” He gets to his feet and pushes his chair in. “It has everything to do with you and me.”
With his coffee in hand, I watch Chance walk out. I had no idea how hard it would be to watch him turn his back on me and leave. Sure he does it when we’re at my house, but it’s never been like this. Never because he’s upset with me.
I hurt him. That was never my intention. I’m only trying to do what’s right. To be a good mother. It wrenches my heart that I can’t run over to the man I love and ease his pain. I don’t rush to leave. I sit at our table feeling like shit, hoping he comes back.
If we tell Timmy it might hurt him and he’s already going through so much. Or my son might be excited to have Chance around more. Someone he feels close too. Someone he confides in. If we don’t tell, it definitely hurts Chance. And that’s the last thing I want to do.
At home, I keep checking my phone for a message from Chance. There are none. I even shut my phone off and reboot it, just in case it’s not working right. No such luck. By the time I’m ready to go to sleep, I break.
Me: I’m sorry. I love you so much, I don’t want to hurt you. We’ll tell him Saturday as planned.
It takes him longer than usual to respond. I close my eyes hoping sleep will find me so I can stop reliving that conversation over and over again. I want to forget the disappointment in his eyes.
Unfortunately I’m wide awake. Just when I’ve lost hope of him getting back to me, my phone chimes.
Chance: I’m acting like a douche aren’t I? Sorry. I was looking forward to being with you out in the open. I can wait as long as you need me too.
Me: No. You’re right. We should do this. Besides, it’s better that he hears it from us. It was so hard not to kiss you tonight.
Chance: Kissing is only the start of what I wanted to do to you.
Chance is back to being lighthearted and fun. I feel better. Now I can sleep.