The rest of this week has been torture. Against the pull that Ines creates, I’ve stayed away from her, somehow. We’ve been texting every day and talking on the phone, every night. She’s funny, hilarious even. I’ve learned more about her in just these past few days than I think I’ve ever learned about Danielle. I feel like a dick even thinking it, but it’s true. Not only do I now know her body, I know about her childhood, about most of her likes and dislikes, and I know her dreams.

Ines has a desire to be happy, and to create a life and family. She doesn’t want fame or fortune, but to live comfortably. She’s even expressed her desire to have children, and have a traditional family, unlike what either of us was raised in.

“I’m afraid of becoming my mother,” she whispers.

It’s Thursday evening, and we’re both in bed. Only, she’s in the dorms and I’m here at home. I wish that she was lying next to me and that I could look into her caramel eyes. “Why, your mother seems like a wonderful, hardworking woman?”

She sighs. “She is wonderful, and she is hardworking,” she agrees. “I don’t want to fall in love with a man who can’t love me back. My father isn’t capable of it, I don’t believe. Maybe once he was, but is it really love if he so easily walked away from us, and now only returns to beg for money?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Am I like her father? Incapable of loving her? I feel like falling for her would be easy, but will it only end in heartache? I can’t have her completely, not while I’m still married, and not while she’s still my student. We’re stuck in this place of limbo, this place of hiding and secrecy.

“I think that if you don’t want to be something bad enough, then you won’t be.”

If it’s true, I don’t know, but I can’t stand to allow her to think that at her age she’s going to ruin her life—even if just by being with me, she probably will.

“Would you change anything about your life if you could?” she asks.

I think about her question and I let out a heavy sigh. I would change so much about my life, about my past specifically. However, that would mean that I wouldn’t have met her, but then I wouldn’t hurt her either, or possibly break her like I know I’m more than capable of.

“If I could change anything, I would be able to have you right here next to me. If it were possible, that’s what I would change,” I admit.

“I could be there. Just tell me and I’ll come over,” she says, sounding almost hesitant.

I shake my head as though she can see me before I speak. “It’s not possible, angel eyes, not right now.”

She doesn’t say anything in response and I try to change the subject. We end our call a few minutes later, a feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I wish that she could be right here next to me, it’s ultimately where she belongs, and I hope where she will be soon.

Once we hang up, I fall asleep. It’s a fitful rest and when I finally get up from bed, it’s Friday morning. I don’t know what time Danielle is coming home today, but I know that she’ll more than likely be here by the time I return from my classes.

My stomach turns.

I don’t want Danielle here—I want Ines. This weekend is going to be tough, but I have to tell Danielle that it’s over. We can’t be together anymore, and I’m probably overthinking everything. I have a feeling Danielle will be relieved once I bring it up to her.

My classes go by in a blur, and I try not to look at Ines, but I can’t keep my gaze from staying on her the entire time she’s in my class. Her eyes meet mine as well, and she looks sad. I hate that I’m the reason for that. Not when I should be the reason for her smiles and her smiles alone. I don’t stay in my office, choosing to cancel my office hours again. Instead, I go for a walk and think.

I almost call my father to ask for his advice, but I know what he would tell me. He would tell me to talk to Danielle, to make it work with her. He would definitely tell me to end things with Ines, not only because I’m cheating, but also because she’s my student. I couldn’t do it even if I tried, she’s buried inside of me now, and no way could I get rid of her.

By the time I make it home for the evening I’m sick to my stomach with stress. Danielle’s rental car is parked in front of the house and I feel nothing but more dread as I pull into the garage. I’m annoyed that she hasn’t bought a car to leave here, that she treats this like some kind of second home, instead of our home, and right now I want her gone.

When I walk inside, I’m hell-bent on telling her to fucking leave. That is until I see her in the kitchen. She’s cooking, something she hasn’t done for me in years. Her back is to me and her body sways to the music playing through the television.

“Danny?” I ask.

She stiffens before she turns around to face me. I can’t decipher the look on her face. I stand at the entrance to the kitchen, waiting for her to speak, wishing to know what she’s thinking. “Thomas,” she breathes and it’s almost vulnerable sounding. Her bottom lip trembles and my entire body goes rigid. I can’t remember the last time I saw her cry, it has to have been years ago, at least fifteen years ago.

“What the fuck?” I hiss.

She rushes over to me and buries her face in my chest. I don’t know what to do, so I wrap one of my arms around her back and loosely hold her. I’ve never seen emotion like this from her, I’m not sure what to do right now.

“I want us to be better,” she gulps, tipping her head back. My eyes widen at her words. She wants us to be, better.

My arm falls away from her, and I take a step back. I’m a bit flabbergasted by her declaration. Then my eyes narrow, unsure of what her angle could be, if she has one. I’m sure that she does, I’ve never known her to give much of a shit about me, not in years.

“Danny?” I don’t know what else to say or do, other than keep repeating her name like a fucking idiot.

Her blue eyes look up at me, wide, and almost innocent but I don’t know what the fuck is going on. “I’ve pushed you away. I know. You’ve been so good and you’ve stayed with me through it all. I want us to work on our marriage, maybe go to counseling,” she suggests with a small smile.

I don’t laugh, though it’s hard not to snort at her words. She’s done more than push me away, she’s ran away—fucking sprinted. I shake my head, standing in disbelief. “You thought making me dinner, giving me a hug, and sporting a few tears would change everything?”

“Counseling, Tommy, we need counseling,” she states, her voice a bit louder than just a few seconds ago.

I run my hand through my hair and down my face. “Counseling won’t fix us, Danielle. We haven’t really been in a marriage for years. Definitely not the past five years,” I state.

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy, we can fix it.”

Letting out a breath, I place my hands on my hips and look to the ceiling. “Why now?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, sounding almost childlike, so innocent, that if I closed my eyes, I could believe she was my Danny from fifteen years ago.

I don’t close my eyes though. I keep them pointed directly on her and take her in. She’s dressed down in a pair of jeans and one of my old college t-shirts. Her hair is in a ponytail and she’s not wearing any makeup. She looks younger, less uptight this way. “Why. Now?” I repeat.

She wraps her hand around the back of her neck and then tugs on her ponytail. “There’s this huge promotion that I’m up for at work. The CEO is a big family guy, he thinks that we’re not really a family because of our situation. I need to prove to him that we’re happily married. No way could you pull that off in a million years. I need us to fix our marriage just long enough for this deal. I need this promotion.”

Her words hit me, no, they fucking slap me across the face. “We’re through, Danielle.”

“Oh please, you’re the luckiest fuck in the world, Thomas. You’re never going to leave me,” she laughs.

“Excuse me?” I whisper, my arms dropping to my sides.

She leans in slightly, a wry smirk on her lips. “You get to fuck pretty little young things while I’m away, then when I’m home, you get to fuck me. I don’t ask you for a dime, your money is yours to do with as you please. I’m never around to nag you or ask you to do things around this house. I’m the perfect wife. You’re lucky.”

“I want a divorce, Danielle,” I announce.

What she described, it’s exactly the way my life has been going the past five years and I don’t love it like she thinks. I never dreamed that this would be my life, I never imagined I would be childless with a wife that knows I fuck around on her, living separate lives. This isn’t a marriage—and I don’t feel fucking lucky.

She jerks her head back and blinks. “No, you don’t, Thomas. You need to think about what you’re saying here.”

“I’ve thought about it, and I want a divorce,” I state again.

She waves her hand in the air and shakes her head as if I’m fucking crazy. I guess that maybe I am. Maybe other men would find our arrangement perfect.

“You’re being dramatic. Come and eat dinner, relax from your day. Think about things, and you’ll see that you don’t want to change us. We’ll go to counseling and you can get all your feelings out. But, you don’t want to be alone at your age, Thomas. We’re not getting any younger, and you remember how lonely your father was before he met that woman.”

I don’t remind her that my father had a child to look after. My father is in love with Jade, and I don’t really like the way she calls her, that woman. They’ve been together for twenty-five years, she’s Jade, and she’s the closest thing I’ve had to a mother in years, even if she’s closer to my own age than she is my father’s. God knows Danielle has zero motherly instincts herself.

Without voicing my opinions, I sit down at the kitchen table and look around. She’s made lasagna, which is of course, her favorite. I can’t stand the shit, especially since she puts fucking beans in hers. She says some regions in Italy make it this way, and that I lack culture. I could give a fuck about culture, I don’t want goddamn beans in my lasagna.

“Now that you’ve gotten over that little dramatization. I’ve made us an appointment with a counselor here for tomorrow. I leave Sunday evening so we’re lucky that he was able to get us in,” she rambles on.

I ignore her, knowing damn good and well that I won’t be going to that counseling session. In fact, I think I’ll go see Ines. Maybe I’ll take her out for the day. I know I won’t spend the fucking day with Danielle and her fucking shrink. I’m done, and divorce is the only option for me right now.

Refusing to sit down and share a meal with her, I leave the kitchen. I don’t go to my bedroom, though. Instead, I make my way toward the guest room. I lock the door behind me, ignoring Danielle’s voice. Stripping my clothes down, I climb into bed and a waft of Ines’ scent catches my nose.

I close my eyes and remember when she stayed here not that long ago. I wish she were here now. My cock grows hard and I slip my hand beneath the sheets, wrapping my fingers around myself. I picture her above me, her large tits swaying as she rides me. The look of awe on her face with each roll of her hips as she takes me and takes control—it brings me closer to my release than I should be with my own hand.

I imagine her head tipped back slightly and then the noises she makes when she comes and my own climax spurts on my belly. My breathing is labored and I reach for my discarded shirt on the floor, wiping my stomach off quickly.

I roll to my side and grab my phone. Sending a text to the woman I can’t get out of my mind.

Her reply is only seconds later.

I can almost hear the excitement pour from her text. A smile tips my lips as I reply.

You Love it. I can’t help but smile at the words I type. She does love it. I can picture the giant smile on her face.

I feel like I haven’t seen Thomas in weeks. Standing outside of the café, wearing a pair of practically obscene short denim shorts, and an equally obscenely tight light blue tank top—I wait for him. I left my hair straight, my makeup light and I’m wearing a pair of leopard print wedge sandals.

I have a feeling that this warmer weather won’t hold up too long. I’ve never experienced a winter with snow before, and I’m extremely nervous, especially since Jessa is all worried about a new winter coat. I own like two hoodies and a jean jacket, I don’t think I’ve ever even looked at coats.

A warm hand slides around my waist, pressing against my belly and soft lips caress my neck. I try not to melt immediately. I try and I fail. Lifting my arm, I wrap it around the back of Thomas’ neck. His hair is soft to the touch and I let out a moan when his tongue caresses my skin. “I missed you,” he admits.

I shiver, pressing my back against his chest as I turn my head slightly to the side. “I missed you, too,” I admit.

Thomas takes a step back from me and takes my hand with his, lacing our fingers together. I’ve been feeling a little, out of sorts since our conversation Thursday evening. He told me that it wasn’t possible for me to be with him, and it confused me. I don’t always understand why he says certain things, or why he claimed we couldn’t see each other this weekend, and yet, here he is.

Silently, we walk toward his car and he guides me inside, closing the door behind me, then he jogs around and slides into the driver’s seat. “Where are we going?” I ask as he eases the car into traffic.

He glances over at me for just a brief moment before he speaks. “The sunken gardens. I thought we could spend the day outside, together,” he shrugs.

I don’t know what these gardens are, but I’m not really an outdoorsy kind of girl, so I hope that I’m not miserable. I’ll fake being happy even if I’m not though, for Thomas. In all honesty, I would just go and sit on a park bench if it meant that I could sit next to him.

The rest of our ride is in silence and I don’t mind a single bit. Thomas takes my hand in his as we drive and that’s all the assurance I need that we’re good—we’re okay.

When we arrive, I’m surprised by how colorful everything is around us. Thomas helps me out of the car and he glances at my shoes before lifting his blue eyes to meet mine. “Are you going to be able to walk in those? I should have told you to wear tennis shoes,” he murmurs, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck.

“I don’t own tennis shoes,” I admit with a smirk.

Thomas lifts his eyes to meet mine and he lifts his lips in a smile of his own as he shakes his head. “Obviously you’re not a country girl,” he chuckles. Slipping his arm around my waist, he presses his palm against my lower back and I arch myself closer to him.

“I was born on the beach, I’m either barefoot, in sandals, or high heels, nothing else,” I shrug.

Thomas runs his nose alongside mine, inhaling deeply, smelling me and then letting out a low moan. “I’ve fucking missed you, Ines,” he admits.

Lifting my arms, I wrap them around his shoulders and lean in a bit closer, pressing my mouth to his. “I’ve more than missed you,” I breathe.

“If we don’t start walking in this garden, I’m going to fuck you against my car for the world to see,” he growls.

I let out a laugh, giving him a quick kiss and then taking a step back. He releases his hold on me and laces his fingers with mine. Together, we walk toward this colorful garden. I’m thankful when there are concrete type paths to stay on, which cuts out the fear that my wedges will be sinking into the wet grass.

Thomas and I walk around, almost in silence for the next hour. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side not long into our walk, and we stay that way the entire time. I rest my head against him and just enjoy the way it feels to have his arm around me.

I wish we could stay like this always.

I wish we didn’t have to pretend, or hide, that we could be a regular couple.

I wish he would tell me what exactly is going through his head.

Something is bothering him, I can tell. His demeanor, his mood has shifted since our moment in his office last week. There is something going on with him, something I’m afraid to push. Maybe if I stay in denial, whatever it is won’t hurt me.