When my body stops betraying me, I let out a ragged exhale.
Tearing my eyes from hers, I snatch her hand up and put my lips to her inner wrist before pushing off the floor, making my way to the bathroom, and closing the door. Turning the handle to the shower, I go back to the vanity and strip out of my clothes, tossing them to the side. Her words swell inside my head; the torturous echo on repeat, reminding me I'm so close to what I want but can't have. Placing my hands flat on the vanity, I lean forward as the steam begins to tumble out of the shower and invade the room around me. The humidity mists my skin, cocooning me in a warm embrace. But I don't want the steam.
Memories of my ex swirl inside my head. Of the times I'd let my guard down, thinking I could be vulnerable with her. But I never could. It was always a trap. Fake, much like her.
But with Sarah, I want something real. I don't want the steam’s embrace…
I wish it washer.
I glance up, looking at myself in the reflection of the mirror, reaching out a hand to caress down the image of my eyes. The same ones I’d spent my whole life hearing how cold and lifeless they are. How closed off I could be.
The shower roars, pounding against the tile and highlighting how alone I am right now. Glancing at the bathroom door, I temporarily lose my mind and take a step forward to grab her and bring her in here with me before coming to an abrupt halt."Alex,"I chastise myself. I look to the side sharply and will myself to get a grip.
Balling my hand into a fist, I fight against walking back in the bedroom and asking her to join me. Instead, I turn away from my image to step into the shower, alone.
Placing my hands flat on the tiled wall, I hang my head. The hot water pounds down on my head, soaking the strands. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I bite my lip on a harsh sob.Because I'mnoticy like everyone's made me believe I was all these years. I'm warm. A soft, clear blue sky.
LikeSarahsaid.
Keeping my head hanging down, I shudder—weak—on a bit-off sob, letting myself cry. Cry for myself, and cry for the woman in the next room whom I'm in love with…and she's not ready.
Chapter forty-four
Life's Nothing But A Dream
Toowiredtosleep,I lay next to Sarah after our lunch, my eyes greedily roaming the exposed brown skin of her back calling to me as she naps. I turn my head back towardsthe ceiling, wishing I could scoot closer and curl around her, instinctively knowing her body heat and her touch would help lull me to sleep. I'm restless. My mind races with all the feelings I feel for her that are so different and unlike anything else I've experienced before.
Seeing a bright light suddenly glow against the ceiling above us, I turn my face to my phone and pick it up. Hannah's name on the screen has me tensing with anxiety and irritation because the fact she is reaching out to me personally instead of going through Tyler means these phone calls are going to become more frequent. Which means my blood pressure is about to be through the roof all the time.
"Fuck."I groan quietly.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I get up quietly and answer the call as I walk through the bedroom door into the sitting room. I keep the door cracked and my voice low so I don't wake Sarah up.
"Hello, Hannah." I greet her in my usual, impassive tone, already bracing myself for the vitriol that usually comes during an interaction with her. I consider forwarding the call, but I answer on the off chance something's happened with Tyler.
"Hey, Alexander."
I pause at her sad tone. "Hannah, is everything okay with Tyler?" My chest tightens, always worried about my boy.
"Yeah, everything's fine." She scoffs softly. "Calm down, I'm not calling about him."
"Oh," I state simply, feeling the knot in my chest ease up. Walking to the chair, I sink down. "What do you need now, then? More money?"
Hannah pauses on the other line. "No. I didn't call for that, either. Gosh, you make me sound like a beggar."
Because you are.I make a small sound, refusing to acknowledge that one way or another.
She continues, never realizing how uncomfortable she makes me. Or when to stop. "No, um…I was actually kind of hoping maybe we could have dinner when you get back in town." She huffs a quiet, awkward laugh.
My eyebrows raise. "For what reason, Hannah?" I ask sternly.
"I was hoping we could… well….reconnect."
"No." I don't hesitate in the slightest. "There's no reason to, Hannah. Tyler is eighteen. We've been divorced for nine years. We don't need to go down that road. As long as we can stay cordial, then we're good."
As if I'd ever give up a possible life with Sarah to go back to this headache. Thisnightmareof a woman.
"Are you seeing someone?" Her voice is breathless, desperate.
