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He nods and then turns to look at me, his face drawn and serious.
“Mitch has been messaging. I’m gonna meet up with him tomorrow.”
“Do you have to?”
“Yeah, he wants to hang out again. I can just shoot some hoops with him. Make some chit-chat. Try to make it seem like everything is fine with me.”
“Hm, well, it is fine, right? Just don’t let him talk down to you and don’t tell him anything you don’t want to. You don’t owe him one goddamn thing.”
“I guess so. He’s gonna be mad though. It’s been a while since we’ve met up, and I can tell by his messages that I’ve hurt his feelings.”
“I get that. I do, but you don’t need to put up with it. You can just turn and walk away if he gets aggressive.”
“I kind of feel like maybe I need to sit there and take it. Because of all the shit I’ve pulled all these years. Like it’s karma coming back to bite me in the ass.”
“No one deserves whatever hate he may throw your way. You can sit and take it or set a boundary and tell him no.”
Matthew runs a hand through his hair and stares off into the distance.
“I know, but karma, man. All of this.”
“Am I good karma or bad karma?”
“You’re everything good,” he says softly, and I can’t help but be pulled into him, like a moon orbiting it’s planet.
I lean over and kiss him, hoping to distract him from any worries that may be crowding his brain. And it works. He sinks into me and his tongue snakes into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tastes like the dinner I just fed him, like quintessential Matthew, and I feast on him until we finally break apart and head back to bed.
This is honestly the best weekend I’ve ever had. I never want it to end.
The next morning, Matthew heads off to work, and I kiss him goodbye, my mouth chasing after his as he steps into the elevator. And then I sit in my big, cavernous place, staring out into the distance and missing him. Just like I do every day since he started to open up to me.
This is so much more to me than a silly transaction.
This is my heart I’m messing with.
His as well.
But at this moment, it doesn’t even matter. I just want him home with me, cuddling against my side, nuzzling my neck and kissing me senseless. But sadly, he has to work. He has bills to pay. I made this stupid agreement with him to have him pay off the cost of a divorce. It’s something I’m kicking myself over now. My impulsivity has reached a new low with this whole mess.
The truth is, I wish that he was staying married to me because he wants to, not to pay off his debt.
I think I’m coming to want him more than he wants me.
I sigh and pace around, corner to corner, trying to find something to do with my busy mind, but it doesn’t work. Nothing can stop me from obsessing over him, from needing him.
So to burn off some of this energy, I go for a run. I find myself in year-old yoga pants and one of Matthew’s undershirts. My legs pump furiously underneath me and my lungs heave. I last about ten minutes on the beach before I find myself doubled over, wheezing, my knees shaking. I should never run again.
I should just dispose of my useless legs.
Wobbling back home, I flop face first onto my couch, staring at the floor. It’s an ugly floor. I should have it redone, should ask Matthew what kind he’d prefer.
Ugh. Why do I miss him so much? Why do I even care? This has never happened to me before. But I do know what makes Matthew different.
He’s so damn sweet, with his seashells and his snuggles and his tender kisses.
Fuck, Mitch better not have hurt him or his feelings when they met up this morning. I may have to hire an assassin if that’s the case.
No one messes with my Matthew.
