SHAPES UNSPOKEN

- 11 -

HAPPY READING 🥰

Sean Britto

I lie in bed holding Annabelle in my arms, memorizing the warmth of her body against mine. The heat she spreads through me is both comforting and torturous. There’s something powerful about holding a woman you want so badly… and choosing not to take her.

She isn’t over what happened to her in college. I see it in the way she stiffens sometimes, the way silence creeps into her eyes without warning. So I touch her gently. I hug her. I kiss her. Not to push—but to reassure.

She’s been through enough.

What that bastard did to her left marks you can’t see. I can’t erase the past, but I can help her rewrite the future. All I need is time.

She doubts me too.

My marriage is over in my heart. I’m not completely over Cindy or the way everything fell apart, but she made her choice. Now I’m making mine.

I want to unbreak Annabelle.

I wish Cindy well. I truly do. I hope she finds whatever happiness she was searching for. But it’s time for me to live again.

Since Annabelle, there’s been a peace inside me I haven’t felt in years. I’m falling for her. There’s no turning back from that. In time, she’ll understand.

I check my phone.
6:20 a.m.

I don’t want to move. If I stay here just a little longer, I could pretend I don’t have a flight to catch.

This weekend was everything. And now I want more.

Steph’s birthday is in three weeks—August 15th. I’ll fly her over. She’ll meet him. And before that, I’ll talk to him about me and his mother. That conversation won’t be easy, but he deserves honesty. Maybe that will help put Annabelle at ease.

I kiss her neck and roll onto my back.

She stretches lazily and throws her leg over my thigh. “It’s time to wake up, sleepy head. You have work in a few…”

She groans and wraps her arm around my neck. “I don’t want to move. It feels too warm here.”

“I don’t want to move either,” I murmur. “But we have to.”

I pull her closer and kiss her forehead. “If I don’t get up now, I’ll miss my flight.”

She pouts.

I laugh before I can stop myself. She’s adorable when she does that.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she mutters, smacking my chest lightly.

“I would never. That pout is dangerous, baby.”

I kiss her slowly and hold her just a little longer.

“I really need to go, beautiful.”

I sit up and cup her face in my hands, forcing myself to focus.

“Steph’s birthday is in three weeks. August 15th. I’m flying you over. You’ll meet him. And when I get back home, I’ll talk to him about us.”

She nods—but she won’t meet my eyes.

I kiss her cheeks. Her forehead. Her chin.

“I’m going to miss you. I’ll call you every day. Morning and night.”

Nothing.

“Annabelle… say something.” My voice softens. “I don’t want to leave either. But if I don’t leave, I can’t come back.”

She lowers her head.

“Baby… absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

I lift her chin gently. Her eyes look vulnerable—almost fragile. And suddenly leaving feels impossible.

“I don’t want to leave you like this.”

I pull her into my chest and hold her tight. She clings to me silently. I feel the weight of everything she isn’t saying.

“You’ll feel better after a shower,” I murmur softly. “And something to eat.”

I lift her and carry her toward the bathroom. I help her out of her clothes slowly, keeping my eyes on her face—not her body. It takes every ounce of discipline not to pull her under the water with me.

I place her under the warm stream.

“I’ll order breakfast.”

I step out and close the door behind me.

“Damn,” I mutter to myself. “I didn’t know it would be this hard.”

If I extend my flight, it’ll only make it worse.

7:23 a.m.

My flight leaves at nine. Check-in at eight. I haven’t even showered.

She walks out wrapped in a towel.

Leaving just became ten times harder.

“You better now, baby?” I step toward her.

“I will be,” she says quietly.

“Get dressed. I want to drop you home before I leave.”

I call the front desk for a taxi, brush my teeth, throw my clothes into my suitcase. Two minutes later, I’m ready.

We walk downstairs hand in hand. I settle the bill. We wait.

She’s quiet. Too quiet.

She barely looks at me.

It pulls at something inside me, but time is against us. I hate being ignored—but she’s drowning in her feelings and I have to give her space.

The ride to her apartment is heavy with silence.

I slide my arm around her shoulders. She goes stiff.

That stings.

The tension keeps building and irritation creeps in. If I leave like this… what does that mean for us?

She only speaks to give the driver directions.

When the car stops, she opens the door herself and walks out without looking back.

What the hell is happening?

I watch her unlock the gate and disappear inside.

Frustration replaces hurt.

Why this childish behavior?

I pay the driver and step out with my luggage. On impulse, I call the airline and reschedule my flight for the last one out tonight.

7:00 p.m. departure.
6:00 p.m. check-in.

I text Brian: Flight delayed. I’ll arrive in the morning.

Then I walk up to her door and knock.

She opens it.

She’s on the phone. Tears streak her cheeks.

She freezes when she sees me standing there.

“Jinette, I’ll call you back.”

She ends the call.

And just like that, I know something deeper is going on.

This isn’t anger.

It’s fear.