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When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, he started moving without ending the kiss; we just walked blindly along the hall, devouring each other. If this was an indicator of our attraction, there was no surprise he convinced me to marry him. This was the most intense kiss in human history.
Somehow, after many moments, he managed to put the key card in and open the door to our suite. Suddenly, we were inside, and things were happening too slow, or maybe I wanted to go much too fast.
I broke away from his lips and started kissing his jawline and his neck, wanting to feel his taste all over my mouth. I blamed the alcohol for this whoreish behavior, but I made no apologies.
"James."
He moaned like I had wounded him, and I could only take pleasure in it. It made me feel powerful to make a man so beautiful want me so bad. It was intoxicating.
The moment shattered when I started to undo his tie and his hands stopped me.
"Rita, wait, wait. We can't!"
"W-what."
"We can’t... do this. I..." his words were cut by his heavy breaths. "I have to tell you something. It's important."
What the fuck? Alarms started going off in my head. It had to be something bad if he had to stop in the middle of foreplay to talk...
"We..." he started but left the words suspended in the air.
We just sat in the middle of the room, breathing like we ran a marathon.
"James, you’re scaring me; what is it? Is it something I did?"
"No, it's.... Rita, we have a daughter."
Every trace of sexual desire disappeared into thin air, and my eyes grew to the size of watermelons. The severity of his words slowly settled in, and my first instinct was to cover my belly with my hands in a protective way.
"What?" In my head the question was vocal, maybe even yelled, but all that came out was a weak whisper.
"Rita..."
"How can I have a child?"
How could I not remember something like that?
"James... I can't forget my daughter, no..."
"Rita, you're shaking." Was I? "Come with me, let's sit on the bed."
He guided me to the bedroom in a very different way than I imagined when we were furiously kissing in the elevator. Now I was numb to his touch. I just followed his pull until we reached the bed, and he made me sit next to him.
"Love, are you feeling ill? Is your head hurting?"
"No."
"Please, Rita, breathe. I don't want you to have a panic attack."
"James, what kind of cold-blooded bitch, miserable person forgets their own child?"
"No, Rita."
"Yes, Rita!" I screamed in his face. I began crying frantically, not recognizing myself in the reflection I saw in the large window. "Oh my God."
He came to me and put his big, reassuring hands on my shaking shoulders.
"Dear, don't do this to yourself." I was surprised to find his face twisted with guilt. "Ugh, I can't believe I put you through this."
