Fateful Encounters

Chapter 30

Lisa wept quietly while Michael sat by her side feeling quite helpless and slightly bewildered.  He glanced over at her, biting his lip, unsure of what to do about this development.  She had never been the silently crying type. Yelling and crying usually happened simultaneously or she had just stubbornly locked herself away when not being able to fight back tears any longer.  To be truthful, Michael knew he held the record for tears spilled in their relationship, which at some point had led Lisa to sarcastically ask him to not be such a ‘cry baby.’ Well, who was the cry-baby now?   For just a second, a small, childish part deep inside considered rubbing that fact in, but an even greater, more mature and protective part felt like wrapping her up in his arms and taking her pain, whatever the cause, away.

Finally, one of the warring entities succeeded in attaining the upper hand.  Driven by a life of its own, Michael’s arm reached across her shoulders. Her muscles tightened for an instant before she sunk against him in surrender.  Dammit- why was he not mad anymore? Sure, the blowjob had been great as his arousal had been fueled by hurt and fury at her words.  Still, he had planned to hold on to those sentiments, forcing her to confess what was really going on before throwing her out of the house.  If Lisa had really meant what she said about wanting to abort his baby, he had to realize this woman he thought he knew inside and out was really a stranger.  No, really it was so much worse than her being a stranger. If life had taught him anything, it was that the greatest danger emanated not from strangers but from those working hardest to snow him into believing they were his allies. Was she one of those pretenders?  Had he been this wrong about her?  Had Debbie been right and he could not trust Lisa anywhere around him? He just could not make himself believe that she had been serious.  Something else was going on.  And he did not intend to let her leave before she spilled her beans.  The sexual distraction had been nice, but she was not about to use her wiles to make him forget his questions.

The constant flow of tears decreased down to a steady trickle before finally ebbing away. Lisa realized her head was against his shoulder and her body was molded into his as if she was seeking shelter from a storm.  Several dark stains adorned his shirt now.  They no doubt originated from her tears and, well, from that damn runny nose that always seemed to accompany her really intense crying spells.  As mad as she had been at Michael, currently, her frustration was directed against herself.

What in the world was wrong with her?  She never lost control like this.  It must have been the exhaustion of the past weeks that rendered her a sniveling infant.  And how irritating to have this breakdown in front of him, when she needed every ounce of strength to project the image of the independent woman who no longer needed or wanted him. If only the arm around her did not feel so comforting and so right. If only she was not still a quivering mess from their earlier confrontation.  If only she did not feel another hot wave of desire rise like yet an additional phoenix from the ashes of the fire that tore her apart just minutes earlier.  He was like the fever she would never be able to shake: her lifelong case of malaria without the benefit of quinine.  No, she had to fight this.  She could not afford to just let this crazy need for him consume her soul.

Lisa straightened and tried to shrug off the arm that stubbornly tightened across her.

“I’m fine, you can let me go now.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

She sniveled and he handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.   The old fashioned gesture made her heart give a tight squeeze. Lisa blew her nose noisily, resulting in Michael making an odd face.  Still holding the hanky to her nose, her eyes widened.