“How do you feel about it…her getting married?”
“I’m okay, but it’s been a long time since she’s been married to my dad. How doyoufeel?” My mother hasn’t remarried since Halle’s dad died twenty years ago. She called me a few months ago to tell me that she’d gotten engaged and was getting married at the end of the year. She’s been dating this guy for a few years, and I’ll admit that I’m happy she’s found someone to share her life with, but I can imagine that it may be tough for Halle to see her stepmom with someone when the last person she saw her with was her father. This weekend is their engagement party, which they threw together somewhat at the last minute, it seems. To my knowledge, Halle isn’t going, but I was hoping I could change her mind while I was here.
“I’m glad she’s happy. It seems like he really cares about her from what I’ve observed and heard from you and a bit from her. My dad would want her to be happy.” She turns away and looks toward the sky before looking back at me. “He’d want me to be happy for her.” I nod, knowing she really does believe that, but my mom with someone else is still a painful reminder that her dad isn’t here. “Sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how much we want them to.” She gives me a sad smile, and I hear the implication loud and clear.
That no matter how muchwewant to be together, it may not work out.
A few hours later, I’m at my hotel bar around the corner from Halle’s apartment. I know where it is because my name is on her lease. I pay for it every month…and I may also get updates from the doorman. Nothing too intrusive, just if she’s partying too much—not often,and if she’s happy—again, not often,and if she’s getting groceries or food delivered.And okay, if any men are sniffing around.I’m on my third drink, and I already know where the night will lead me. I knew it, and Halle knew it too when I took her home in an Uber.
But I really was trying.
I really do want more for her and for myself, if I’m being honest, and this tradition we have every year isn’t healthy. It’s a toxic cycle I’m worried we’ll never be able to break.
What would happen on October seventh when we met other people? We’d sneak away under the ruse of needing to be with family? Screw each other’s brains out and then return to our partners? What would happen when either of us got married or had kids?
I slam down my glass on the bar, thinking about Saint having kids with someone else because it means she’s fucked someone else, and to my knowledge, she’s only ever fuckedme.Even in the year we’ve been apart, I don’t think she has, but the intrusive thought slips in and throws me off kilter.
Me: Have you slept with anyone else?
Her answer is instant.
Saint: You’re so predictable. Let me guess, you’ve had three drinks?
Me: Answer my question.
Saint: Answer mine first.
Me: Yes, I’ve had three.
Saint: It’s insulting that you have to ask. Do you know me at all?
Me: As well as I know myself. But say what I need to hear.
Saint: No, Sebastian.
Me: Why?
Saint: Same reason you haven’t.
Me: Who says I haven’t?
Saint: Don’t be an asshole.
Me: How do you know?
Saint: Because I also know you as well as I know myself.
My dick throbs at her confidence. That she doesn’t need the same assurances I need. That even though I'm fighting this thing between us, I’ve been hers for years, and no other woman has had a chance. My phone vibrates again, and when I look down, I see she’s texted again.
Saint: Do you want to sleep with someone else?
I stare down at her words and let out a sigh, knowing I can show her better than I can tell her that she’s all I want. I throw down some cash on the bar for my drinks before I walk down the block toward her apartment. I also have a key to access her elevator, and with a nod to her doorman, who I’m sure still can’t figure out who Halle and I are to each other, I’m in the elevator pacing, my dick already hard at the thought of being this close to Halle and a bed.
Not that a bed is a necessity.
When you’ve been sneaking around for almost nine years, you've learned to be creative.
The elevator dings to let me off on her floor, and I’m in front of her door in moments. Just as I lift my fist to knock, it swings open, and Halle’s fresh face comes into view. She’s wearing one of my sweatshirts and a pair of my sweatpants, and it reminds me of all of the clothes she’s stolen from me over the years.
