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I do want to get married one day and have a family of my own. I don't think Moira wants the same thing. Maybe she's afraid of commitment, but I don't know how to bring that up now without scaring her away. In any event, now is not the time to have that conversation. She needs to spend some time with her mother while she heals, and work on repairing that relationship.
I stop at my front door. There's a red envelope on the door with my name on it in familiar handwriting. My gut knots up and I grit my teeth before opening the door and heading inside, closing it behind me. Of course, I know that the card is from Cynthia. She's been doing everything in her power to try to weasel her way back into my life, no matter how hard I try to remind her she doesn't belong.
The question is, how long am I going to have to put up with her before she finally gets the hint?
I still can't wrap my head around why she's trying to do this, given that she's married to someone else. And for the first time in a long time, I allow those memories to wash over me. Making my way back to my bedroom, I step into the master bath and get undressed. Running the shower until the steam begins to fog up the glass, I step underneath the water and rinse off the ER germs as I think about Cynthia.
She'd seemed so perfect back in the beginning, exactly the kind of woman that I wanted to spend my life with and marry. When she told me she was pregnant, I was ecstatic, over the moon, and ready for this next phase of our lives together. I was even ready to propose.
Until the awful moment that I learned that the baby wasn't mine. I don't think I've ever experienced something so earth shattering and heartbreaking. All I wanted was to be a dad, to have a wife, to start a family and she'd started a family... with someone else.
Of course, when she told the guy that she was pregnant, he offered to marry her. And I'd recognized him... from Club Red.
In that instant, I knew exactly what had happened. They'd met there. They'd enjoyed themselves. They'd gotten closer and, well, the rest is history, I guess. But now she's his problem. So why is she coming back to me and acting like there's something between us, or like we should be together, or like she didn't cause me serious harm and damage when she walked out the way she did?
I realize the water is scalding hot as my skin turns bright red, and I readjust the temperature to something cooler. When Cynthia left, I felt like my life was over. All the excitement that potentially becoming a father only to realize the baby wasn't mine had destroyed me in the space of an instant. A long time had passed before I could even trust someone again. I hadn't even really tried dating, just a few flings here and there to satisfy the flesh. When I realized those weren't making me happy either, I'd stopped trying even that.
For a while, I'd resigned myself to being alone forever. Then I'd simply made peace with the fact that if I met someone perfect, I'd be happy with that, and if I didn't, I'd find a way to be happy alone.
Honestly, I just wish I knew what Cynthia's plan was and why she was doing this. She's still wearing her wedding rings, so I highly doubt she's divorced. Maybe she's just toying with me. Maybe she gets some twisted, perverse joy out of tormenting me. Or maybe she heard that I'd met someone somehow, and decided that she needed to ruin any chance I might have at happiness.
Once I get out of the shower, I dry off and then make my way into the living room to flop on the couch. I know I should probably go to bed and get some sleep, but I'm not sure that my racing mind will let me rest.
I rub my temples and pull my phone out of my pocket, checking to see if Moira sent any messages. There aren't any messages from Moira, but there is the message that she mentioned Cynthia sent earlier in the day. The fact that she'd seen a message from my ax after we were intimate and wasn't upset - she merely mentioned it in an offhanded way - leaves me some hope that she's not the jealous type. Which is good, jealousy is a deal breaker for me.
I open her message to see it’s a run-of-the-mill miss you message.
I miss you, Michael. I know you’re having trouble seeing that we’re perfect for each other and that we belong together, but I can wait for you as long as you need me to.
With a groan, I sink back into the couch, trying to decide what to do with her. I’m not interested. How do I tell her to leave me alone when she doesn't listen? How do I make her understand that I don't want her back? I would rather an ice pick lobotomy to the tip my member than take her back.
Worse yet, I can imagine Moira will only be patient for so long before she gets tired of Cynthia showing up on my door and yelling at me. I know that I could call the cops on her, but I don't want to hurt her, even if she hurt me first. I don't think she's dangerous, just misguided and maybe delusional. And I also don't feel like being manipulated and harassed.
As I hold my phone, a new message pops up from Moira this time. Thank you for being there for me - it means a lot. And thank you for the advice.
It’s my pleasure. Thank you for allowing me into your life like that. I don't want to say too much or go overboard, but I do like the thought of her knowing that I appreciate her trust and allowing me to peek at her life behind the curtain.
I can't help but smile to myself as I hit send on the message. That smile quickly fades as I switch back over to Cynthia's message and try to decide how to respond. I decide the best course of action is to be polite but firm.
Cynthia, I'm going to say this one more time. We are over. Please stop contacting me. I need you to respect my decision. I've moved on, I've met someone else and I'm happy with her. You need to move on too. If you continue to contact me, I'm going to relay your messages to your husband and potentially the police.
I hit send and hope for the best. Maybe it's too much to ask for her to not call or text again. No doubt she’ll at least need to respond to my message, but a guy can dream. Hell, I’ll consider this a win if she doesn't come to my door again and make a scene while Moira is here.
I sink back into the couch for a moment before standing up and making my way to the front door. Pulling it open, I grab the envelope from where it's taped to the wood and pull it down. No part of me wants to read what she sent, so instead I grab the letter and walk over toward the outside garbage. Opening the lid of the neatly covered bin, I drop the letter inside and put the lid back on.
I don't need her drama right now. I don't want to know what she has to say. I'm not interested in her trying to muscle her way back into my life, and I'm not going to give her any more options to try her tactics.
Walking back into the house, I close and lock the door behind me. I take my phone and make my way back to my room. Lying in my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, trying to relax and forget about Cynthia. Thoughts of Moira take over and I can't help but wonder how she's doing at the hospital with her mother. There's not a single part of me that thinks she stayed home after dropping me off.
With a slight smile on my face, I find myself hoping that they are talking things out and trying to fix whatever bad blood is between them. I think about my dad and how incredibly important he is in my life, and I can only hope the same for her and her mom.
I'm also trying to figure out how a retired man takes business trips, but it wasn't my place to say that. Maybe I'll gather my courage and ask Moira about my suspicions later. Moira. The corners of my lips curve upward as I think about her and the time we spent together. Not just the intimate time, but the time doing normal, everyday things. I guess as normal and every day as it is to take a parent to the hospital when they fall in their home, but I digress.
It makes it easier to think that those normal day-to-day things will be enjoyable with her by my side. I wonder how her mother's doing, if she's going to be okay. The doctor had sounded hopeful before we left, and staying just for observation sounds like they’re just making sure nothing goes wrong.
As my body sinks deep into the bed, my brain continues to think about Moira. Is she really anti-marriage or was that just something she'd said to upset her mother? She had seemed disappointed when I told her that I'm looking for marriage and children. An uncomfortably tight feeling in my gut leaves me worried that I know the answer.
The question is, will it be strong enough to face the truth and walk away if that's what I need to do? Because I'm not going to enter a relationship with someone trying to change them. That wouldn’t be fair to her or to me.
