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Eleven
Carson
My eyes slam shut, willing myself to sleep, but my eyelids flutter open again. Damn it! With a sigh, I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My head is pounding along with my heart. A conflicting mix of anger and…something else. It’s a confusing warmth that spreads through me at the memory of Anna, a harsh contrast to the icy knot of betrayal that still lingers.
Anna’s infiltrated my life again, her laughter echoing in every room, a constant reminder of the past. Earlier, I walked in to find her in a frilly cami and short set, a sight that shouldn’t have ignited a flame of desire, but it did. I felt a primal urge to pull her close against me.
She barely looked older than Connor, with her face devoid of makeup and her chestnut hair falling in a messy tangle around her face. An image that shouldn’t have stirred anything but a flicker of appreciation that she was comforting our child, yet my traitorous body had other ideas. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and carry her to my bed.
God, I hate that I still desire her. How can I want a woman I can’t trust?
But it’s more than her appearance breaching my carefully erected defenses. It’s the gentle way she soothed away Connor’s fear. When I walked back in and overheard her reassuring our son that she and I both loved him, I felt the hard knot of betrayal in my chest loosen. She disarmed my own mother faster than I would have thought possible. Hell, she had Mom eating out of her hand by naming Connor after my father. That thoughtful gesture was a reminder of the woman I thought I knew. The woman who used to understand me. Damn her! How can she be all these wonderful things yet still be a woman who would cheat on her husband?
Grimacing, I rub the heel of my palm against my gritty eyes. The image of her lush body refuses to fade. I stretch my neck, trying to loosen the tension that’s bunched my muscles into a knot. The bathroom offers a temporary escape. As I swallow the ibuprofen with a grimace, the chalky bitterness mimics the feeling in my gut. A bitter pill to swallow. That’s how I feel. Who is the real Anna? The sweet girl I met on the cruise? The cheating wife or the loving mother who was comforting my son down the hall?
Shame burns in my throat, a bitter aftertaste of the confusing emotions swirling within me. How can I want someone I can’t respect? Yet, I do. Sinking back onto the bed, I lean my elbows on my knees, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.
My son is the most important thing. I offered to let Anna stay because I thought it was best for him. Nothing changed. He loves his mother, and I can tell he needs her around. So, I can’t ask her to leave just because I’m having difficulty resisting her charms.
No, instead, I need to guard my heart. Her warmth threatens to melt my icy defenses. She already hurt me once. She could do it again, leaving me with scars deeper than the ones I already carry.
My fist tightens around the bedsheet as I clench my jaw. This vulnerability, this confusing longing, is a weakness I can’t afford.
My lips twist into a snarl. Where’s the steely resolve I used to possess? Where’s the man who navigated corporate battles with a cool head and an iron fist? Here I am, a CEO brought to his knees by... what? A memory? A ghost of the past?
“I must be getting soft,” I mutter to myself, “What happened to my reputation for being stern and unyielding,” my voice dripping with sarcasm. I can’t let this mere slip of a woman get under my skin.
With that thought, I slide back on the bed and throw my arm over my eyes. The darkness offers only a temporary escape from the emotions raging within me.
My son’s laughter wakes me the next morning. I blink as my eyes are gritty from lack of sleep. I resolutely stand and walk directly into the shower. I’m hoping the hot water will shake the fog from my brain.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk out of my bedroom, fully dressed and ready to face the day. The smell of sausage fills the air as I follow my nose to the kitchen. I walk directly to the coffee pot and fill my cup. I take a grateful sip before I turn to face my son’s boundless energy and Anna’s brief smile.
I hold up my hand and say, “We’re meeting at your Uncle Chase’s house tonight around six. I thought maybe you and I could shoot some hoops after breakfast.”
“Cool,” Connor offers his typical preteen response, but I can tell he’s eager to go outside.
Anna deftly places a platter of scrambled eggs with cheese on the table. She returns with another plate filled with hashbrowns and the perfectly browned sausage I could smell the minute I walked out of my room on the table. My stomach growls in anticipation.
I quickly dish up a portion for me, and Anna does the same. We’ve both learned to take what we want before my ever-starving son beats us to it.
“Thank you, Anna, this tastes good,” I say politely. Connor glances over at his mom and says, “Yeah, Mom. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she hides a grin and gives me a wink. “Both of you.”
Once we’re done eating, Anna shoos us out the door with, “I’ll take care of the dishes. You guys go play ball. I need some time this afternoon to get online and submit Connor’s transfer to his new school.”
“Let me know if you need assistance,” I remind her, but she’s already shaking her head. “No, but thanks. I’ve already been through this once.”
Later, as Connor and I take the elevator to the apartment, we’re both slick with sweat, our shirts clinging uncomfortably to our backs. A Florida afternoon spent playing basketball had left us thoroughly drained.
I smile over at my son. “Man, do we need a shower.”
He lifts his arm for a sniff, then holds his nose in disgust. I laugh as I explain, “Yeah, we’re a little ripe.” His face falls into a frown, so I add solemnly, “That means we stink.”
“Oh,” he says with an agreeing nod.
We walk in to find Anna bent over in the pantry, head down, rummaging through the shelves. She straightens up quickly and turns around. Her cheeks are flushed from the exertion, “Oh, you’re back. I hope you don’t mind. I was just taking a look at your pantry, and it seemed a little cluttered. So, I took the liberty of reorganizing things a bit.” She glances around defensively, then back at me, a sheepish grin on her face.
