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“So, what?”
I wonder how Sebastian would feel if I brought up the subject of his wife. We have never truly talked about personal affairs. Our nightly routines do not involve pillow talk about our pasts. He has never asked about mine, which does not allow me to ask about his. Somehow, I feel that is intentional.
When I hesitate, he looks at me again.
“Tell me, Paislee.”
“I have just been curious about you, and Callie’s mother.”
I keep my gaze on him as I say this and watch as his expression closes off.
“I don't think that's any of your business.” He tells me in that tone of voice he had used the first day in my class. Cold. Icy. Rude.
“I'm sorry,” I tell him and quickly turn my face to the window.
We have no reason to ride in comfortable silence. The tension in the car is almost suffocating. I can't wait to get home and be away from him. It's more than obvious that I won't be spending the night in his king-sized bed tonight.
As soon as he parks his car in the garage, I get out, not waiting for him to open the car door like he did earlier this evening. I hurry towards the guest room, needing time by myself to think. But Sebastian's long legs catch up with me at the landing. His strong arms wrap around my waist, bringing me against his hard lean body. His tux brushes against my silky gown, and I struggle to maintain my composure.
“Tonight shouldn’t end like this, Paislee.” He says against my ear, his lips brushing the soft skin of my neck.
I begin to wobble, unable to keep the steely composure I was trying to keep.
He straightens up and looks into my eyes and says, “we should talk.”
I nod.
He looks at me and nods in the direction of Callie's room.
“Why don't you go ahead? I'll catch up with you later. I need to check on Callie.”
I begin to make my way toward the master bedroom and sit on the side of the bed, waiting patiently. I am not taking any articles of clothing off because I don’t want to be that vulnerable when we are having this conversation.
A few minutes later, Sebastian comes in. His suit hung over his shoulder, and his hair slightly messy. The sight of him causes my breath to catch.
“Hi,” I say. He steps close enough for my breathing to speed up from having him so torturously close.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Sebastian throws the suit on the chair and comes to sit next to me. I smile at him.
“You said we need to talk.”
“Yes. Because I can tell you are not happy, and I hate that it's my fault.”
“It's alright. I shouldn’t expect you to talk about something you don't want to talk about.” I mutter.
“I do want to. I think it'll do me a world of good if I do.” He says it in a very quiet tone of voice, avoiding my eyes for the first time.
“Okay, I'm ready to listen.”
It's a bit weird that we are sitting side by side in this manner, ready to talk about something that Sebastian hasn't in a long time.
“I met Charlotte in college. We were partnered together to work on a group project, and our little romance began from there. We were both young college students who wanted to get out and explore the possibilities that the world could offer. Yet, we still made time for each other.”
Sebastian's eyes are a little distant. There is a look of pure hopeless adoration on his face at the memory of the woman he loved. Or maybe he still loves—?
“She was my soulmate,” he says reverently.
Well, that answers the question of whether or not he still loves her.
“We got married as soon as we graduated from college, and we began to make plans to start our lives together. Our finances were not stable, but I had big goals and I knew everything would work out in the end. I only needed time.”
Sebastian gets up and moves towards the mini wine bar.
“Would you like a drink?”
I nod. We are both going to need a drink for this.
