Jealousy pricks at my skin.
“How’s single life treatin’ you?” I ask. “You datin’ again? Or just fuckin’?” He looks hurt by my questions, and I immediately regret asking.
“I’m not dating Bren. And I’m way too old for casual sex.” His eyes soften a little. “I told you, I’m holding out for Mr. Right.”
“Yeah? You met him yet?” I tease.
“Sure have. He was that kid in school that everyone was afraid of and for some crazy reason he wanted to be mates with me.”
I try to stifle my smile but fail miserably. “He sounds like a dickhead.”
Ky tilts his head to one side and purses his lips. “Not once you get to know him. He’s tough on the outside but all gooey on the inside.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You like that in a man, do you?”
“I love that in a man. I love him.”
Our eyes remain locked on each other for a long time as the ache in my chest grows and grows.
We end up playing pool again, shamelessly flirting and eye fucking each other while the insults fly. It’s our way, and it feels right. I don’t want this night to end, but it’s getting late, and I need to head home.
I insist on walking Ky to his car and I can’t deny it feels like we’re on a date. His car is parked down a quiet side street and there’s not another person in sight. It immediately feels dangerous. Ky’s energy shifts and intensifies, the tension pulling tight between us. I don’t want this night to end badly, and I fear I’ve given Ky the wrong impression. Did he think tonight would be the start of something more?
Stopping at his Porsche, he turns to face me, taking my hands. His eyes glisten with emotion but I resist the urge to look away.
“Bren, I want you to be happy. I truly do. Even if it’s not with me.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, relieved I’ve misread the situation, then tug him to me, raising my face to receive a gentle kiss. “Ky, I always wanted it to be you,” I say honestly. “I’ve loved you since I was seventeen. I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I step back, putting some distance between us, not trusting myself to do the right thing when I can feel the heat of his body. “Look after yourself, Davies.”
Walking backwards, I take one, two, three steps more, trying to memorise every detail of his face in case it’s the last time I see him. Ky doesn’t speak, just smiles back sadly. Then I turn and walk briskly away.
Chris is talking about someone from work while I mumble ahmmand ayeahwhen it seems appropriate. But I’m not really listening. A few weeks have passed since I last saw Ky, but my mind is still at The Boathouse and outside my showroom. It’s in the hospital corridor and in Ky’s bed. At night, before I fall asleep, I revisit all the places of our youth, running through my best and worst memories as I try to untangle the desires of my heart.
I compare the two versions of Ky I carry inside me: the boy from my youth and the mature man he is now.Your heart will eventually win out, Stacey said.
I finish haphazardly setting the table for dinner, Chris still busy at the stove.
“I’m gonna head upstairs and change quickly,” I say.
“No worries sweetheart, dinner will be ready in about five minutes.”
In our bedroom, I strip out of my work clothes and pull on some trackies and a T-shirt. Part of me is tempted to ask Chris why he went to see Ky, but I know that might push our marriage closer to the end.
Your heart will eventually win out.
Truth be told, I’m scared to love Ky, just like the first time around. But Chris has never had all of me because I never felt compelled to give it. It seems clear now that I misled Chris, when he’d always been all in.
Your heart will eventually win out.
Am I prepared to take a leap of faith with Ky? To risk everything a second time? Am I willing to bear the responsibility of breaking Chris’s heart? My husband, who doesn’t deserve any of this.
His voice from downstairs momentarily snaps me out of my thoughts. “Dan, dinner is ready.”
I sit down to eat, then realise Chris is still standing at the kitchen sink, staring out into the backyard. “Chris, it smells great. You okay? Are you sitting down?”
“You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
My body stills as a terrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I place my knife and fork back down on the table, careful not to make any noise. Chris remains with his back to me. I have no words and no idea how to respond to his question.
