“Olivia is in the bathroom. She’s pretty wasted too. I was going to bring her some water and Advil.” My eyes darted to the cup and pills on the counter.

   He nodded, took the pills and water, and then walked toward the bedroom.

   I moved my hands from Elliot’s shoulders up to cup his cheeks. His eyes were glassy, hooded by his eyelids that looked like they weighed a million pounds. “Are you ready to go home?”

   “Unless you had other plans,” he replied, his tone not particularly friendly.

   I tilted my head to the side, unsure of where he was trying to take the conversation. “I’ve got no plans. I’m here. You’re here. I’m sober. Let’s get you home.”

   “If we lived together, you’d only have to go to one place,” he slurred, turning from me once the words had left his mouth. I felt the verbal punch to my gut, but tried not to react immediately. He was drunk, after all.

   “Well, I was planning on staying with you, so I’d only have one stop anyway. Unless you had other plans…” I couldn’t hold back the snark as I threw his own words back at him.

   “Why are you always pushing me away when he’s around?”

   I let out an exasperated sigh. “I push you away when you’re being inappropriate.”

   “I’m not allowed to touch you? You’re my girlfriend. For two years.”

   “Being my boyfriend doesn’t give you the right to put your hands on me whenever you’d like. Come on,” I said, my voice becoming a little softer. “Let’s just get you home.”

   His hands reached out for me again, but this time they ended up on my hips so I didn’t move them. I just looked him in the eye. “Will you still stay with me? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

   He sounded sincerely sorry, and I knew he’d probably pass out in the car on the way to his apartment anyway. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. I stopped at the door and called out softly, “Bye guys, we’re headed home.” I didn’t get a response, but figured Devon had his hands full with Liv.

    We made it all the way to my car before I realized I’d left my purse behind. I leaned him up against my car. “I’ll be right back, I left the keys inside.” He grumbled but didn’t argue, so I ran back to the apartment as fast as I could in my stupid heels.

   I inched the door open, not wanting to alarm anyone, and saw my purse on the dining table. I tried to tiptoe through the apartment, but nearly screamed when Devon walked out of his bedroom, startling me. I jumped, but managed to keep quiet. When my brain registered that Devon was only wearing a pair of cotton lounge pants, I kept my hand over my mouth, but for an entirely different reason. I was no longer trying to stifle a scream, I was attempting to hide that my mouth was gaping open at the sight of his naked, chiseled, glorious chest. I’d seen it before – the first time we’d met, for one – but usually there were other people around. We were at the lake, for example, and everyone was showing skin. But I had never seen Devon in an intimate way, never seen him only visible by the dim light coming from the bathroom, wearing the very thing I imagined he would go to bed in, looking at me like if I didn’t leave, didn’t get out of his reach, he might devour me.

   I slipped past him, grabbed my purse, and left without a word. Lord knew, if either one of us spoke right then, our worlds might come crumbling down.

   When I’d gotten Elliot safely into his apartment, I finally reached down to take off my godforsaken heels. He wandered drunkenly through his apartment and into the bedroom. I sighed, still reeling from the tense interaction I’d had with Devon, wanting desperately to just fall asleep and start a new day with a clean slate. Suddenly, I heard Elliot’s voice, deep, gravelly, and drunk, ring out through his apartment.

   “You’d tell me if you’d fallen out of love with me, right?”

   My heart lurched at his question, ached inside my chest. He was drunk, but I knew he was asking me a serious question. The truth was I wasn’t in love with Elliot. I loved him, in the way one would love a wonderful guy after dating him for two years. But I’d never been in love with him. I didn’t know if it was something I was capable of with Elliot. I loved him. I cared about him. I didn’t regret being with him.

   I walked back to his bedroom and saw him lying on his back on the bed, much like Olivia had been – arms sprawled out, eyes glued to the ceiling. I crawled onto his bed, my dress inching up my thighs as I made my way to him, and found my usual spot, my cheek on his chest, his arm coming to naturally curl around me, holding me close.

   “Nothing’s changed,” I whispered, pressing my face in closer to him, unable to say the words with any kind of conviction. I couldn’t shout them, couldn’t plead with him to believe me; all I could do was whisper my half-truth to him. When he rolled toward me, his hand finding the side of my face, eyes level with mine, all I could do was lean forward and press my mouth to his to stop any words he had for me. He didn’t push me away, didn’t try to say anything more to me. And even though he was drunk, and we’d had a tumultuous past hour, I let him make love to me – it was the least I could do.

 

 

Chapter Twelve

Present Day

   It was Monday morning and Devon had left the house without saying one word to me. He also went out of his way to leave the house in a way in which he wouldn’t have to walk past me. Which meant he walked through the backyard, opened the back gate, and climbed over the pile of firewood kept at the side of his house in order to go to work without having to see me. It was ridiculous, but most of me was glad he’d gone the extra mile.

   I had no idea what I would have said to him if he’d had big enough balls to face me. I was certain, however, that I would more than likely pretend as if nothing had ever happened between us, just like I’d been doing for ten years now.

   After I’d snuck back into his house on Friday to get my camera, after I was certain he’d left and the house was empty, I’d spent the weekend in my car, driving until something caught my eye. I’d stopped when I wanted to, photographed my temporary muse, then pack up and move along. I drove all day Saturday until it was dark and my eyes were tired. I stopped at a run-down motel, slept on top of the scratchy covers, and woke up on Sunday ready for another day. I took a different route back home, stopping again whenever I felt like it.

   I knew I had to be home in time to get to Devon’s house Monday morning. I knew, even though there were a million other places I’d rather be than there, the kids needed me and my conscience would be shouting at me if I’d abandoned them. Liv asked me to do one thing – to help take care of her family. So, no matter how upset I was with Devon and myself, I would be there for the kids.

   The kids hadn’t mentioned anything unusual and didn’t seem like they knew anything was off between Devon and me, so I tried to act as normal as possible.

   I was herding both kids toward the door, mentally counting backpacks and lunch boxes, making sure they both had everything they needed for their day. I heard the door open just as I grabbed my purse, but was surprised to hear Jaxy’s voice say, “Hello, there. You must build stuff. Bob the Builder wears the same belt.”

   My head snapped toward the door, heart pounding, but then a wave of relief rolled through me when I saw Nate on the other side of the door, tool belt and all.

   “I do build stuff. I tear stuff down too.” Nate’s voice was soft and gentle, his words said with a smile. “In fact, I’m here to look at your house where all the water was.”

   “You mean the room that flooded? It’s kind of smelly in there,” Jaxy said, scrunching up his nose. “And we’ve had loud fans on all weekend.”