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"The convention I told you about... I kinda won an award there; no big deal, but you wanted to attend, and Chelsea had to stay home."
"Makes sense. I feel so anguished."
"I know, beautiful girl. Try to go to sleep, and tomorrow we'll start again."
I cried in silence for hours, and all he did was lay there and rub my back. Finally, under his caressing touch, I drifted off into a restless sleep.
She was sleeping but agitated.
The knot in my throat was barely letting me breathe. I couldn’t believe what I'd done. I ruined this woman with a few words that came out of my mouth without any rationality.
When she kissed me, I lost all my senses in her. Her sexuality was so raw, I could feel it with my hands. It was impossible not to react. I was just a man.
And I was alive.
I was ashamed to say that she was so beautiful that I felt attracted to her even when she was unconscious in my arms. How sick was that?
There were a few short minutes when I had her in my arms, smelling her, kissing her, and I was burning up like never before. No other woman made me feel like that, like we were about to turn to ash right there. It took everything in me to stop it.
She had a lot of wine and was vulnerable, lonely and confused. I couldn’t have sex with this woman. I couldn’t take advantage of her like that. My brain knew that, but my dick hated me for it.
In that moment, I wanted to tell her the truth. Confess my sin and have her hate me rather than continue using her and violating her trust. I couldn’t.
That didn’t mean that I didn’t want to.
When I was ready to tell her, my gut clenched, and the words never came out. Images flooded my mind, but not memories, no. It wasn't Avery's face that crossed my view; it was the future. The sick, artificial and hypnotizing future my mind and needs created. I saw Rita in my house, Rita in my life, Rita with my baby, Rita, Rita, Rita...
She was all I saw.
I could have told the truth and tried to keep her close, maybe try to woo her, seduce her, but my greedy heart didn't want to let go of a chance to have what I wanted most. A wife for me, a shoulder to cry on. A mother for Chelsea and someone who, no matter what, would be waiting at home for me every night. After every long shift or a twelve hour surgery, I'd go back to my beautiful baby girl and Rita's welcoming arms.
Out of desperation, I threw Chelsea out on the table. For fuck's sake, I used my daughter as a bargain chip.
Rita crashed - she crashed - at my feet in terror, looking so anguished. I was ready to pull her out of an anxiety attack, but again, I was stunned at how strong she was. A lioness with a black mane. She cried her pain and slowly walked out of her sorrow, rebuilding herself piece by piece under my eyes. I had no right to be, but I was proud of her.
Hour after hour, I fell deeper in my twisted lie, and I didn’t know how I'd ever see the light ever again. It wasn’t like I could keep her locked up and make our perfect little life away from everybody. I'd try if I could, but fucking Zach would kick down my door and ask Rita who the hell she was and why she was so close to his goddaughter.
I had only been able to get a few hours of sleep when the dawn hit the windows, and a ray of sunshine come to play with Rita's lashes. My back was stiff and sore, like I had been sleeping on wood planks, but I didn't dare to move and bother her sleep. When the light got to her and her eyes opened, I was mad at the sun for disturbing her sleep. Ironic, considering I disturbed her fucking existence.
She extended her arm across my torso and hugged me tighter, looking up with a smile.
"Good morning," I told her, and my voice sounded rough because my throat was dry as a desert.
All I got back was a grumbling noise.
" I know, love; it's too early."
"You know I hate mornings." She paused then popped her head up. "I hate mornings, right?"
"Umm, something like that. We sleep when we sleep; my work shifts are crazy, and since the baby came, the sleep hours became even more chaotic. What I can tell you is that you like to sleep."
I had worked with enough grumpy patients who would rather sleep another hour than have me push a drill into their skull and save their life to know a sleepaholic when I saw one.
"Shouldn't you be at work, James?"
"Not for another day, and I will call my boss and tell her I need some time off."
"Do not do that for me. It's not like you work in a supermarket. People depend on you."
