Back To You

Part 3

Warnings - mentions of sex, mentions of injury, amnesia, domestic💖, fake relationship, divorced couple, resentment, lingerie, mentions of masturbation, sex toys

As the days went by, living with Timothée again was jarring, but not unpleasant. Currently we were doing the laundry together like we always had as Julian watched tv. It felt comfortable.

I smiled gently at Timothée's form as he folded his boxers. The hardest part of this, actually, was sleeping. That motherfucker would not sleep with a shirt on, and I had no end of trouble sleeping when my pussy was leaking into my underwear. The only thing that helped a little was stashing my vibrator in the bathroom and using it a before bed. I would be mortified if Timothée found out.

"You know this is kinda nice, like old times," Timothée muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, I can see that. Now that my every waking thought isn't the electric bill or the water bill, domestic stuff is fun," I said happily.

"Does he seem improved at all to you?" I asked him.

"The other day he remembered your parents moved to Canada, and that happened after the divorce," Timothée offered. Every time he said the word divorce his voice changed it got harder. I had to wonder if he resented it, he had tried to ask about marriage counseling and other such solutions. In the end, it always came to the same fight that he wouldn't budge on.

"I'm going to go through some of my things and donate them so you have more room for your stuff," I told him. "You're getting low."

"Sounds good, I could just buy you another dresser," he thought to himself. My resentment rose. I'd have to strategically budget for that, it was an after thought to him.

Later in the day I was sorting my things, when Timothée came in the room.

"You're donating this!" He said in indignation, holding up a pair of old lingerie I had.

"Yeah, it's old," I shrugged. "No one to use it with anyway."

"Don't you remember how many times you made me cum the first time you wore this?" He shook it at me as if we were in court.

"Yeah, I remember, but we're not exactly doing that anymore are we?" I chuckled. He stood in silence for a while as I worked.

"Put it on," he said quietly.

"What?" I asked.

"Put it on, for old times sake," he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

"It may not fit, this was pre Julian," I warned him.

"Don't care," he grinned.

I didn't know why I agreed, but he was so charming he could get away with anything. I was in the bathroom, muttering to myself how insane this was. When I was done, I had to admit, I looked good.

"Woah!" Timothée's jaw dropped when I came out.

"Still fits," I said with a twirl. When I came back around, I was nearly nose to nose with Timothée.

"Oh," I said, but I didn't move. He was staring at me intently. I should've pushed him away as he reached out a hand. His finger lightly trailed my collar bone and I had to resist a shudder.

"Do you ever miss it?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"Miss what?" I asked, nearly breathless.

"Us," he said simply.

Yes, all the time. I miss your heart and your closeness with Julian. I miss the way you made me laugh. I miss the practical things like the extra help around the house, but also the little things like your hands and your curls. I miss the fucking, but also the lovemaking. I miss the constant hugs and reassurances. I missed your drive and passion even when you were turned down for parts. I missed the constant pet names and goofy excitement to be with me. I missed the family game and movies nights. I missed cozy Christmases and Hanukkahs. I missed the way you always listened to what I said, even if it was dumb. I missed the glares and jealous looks other women would give me when they realized you were mine. I missed holding your hand, and kissing your nose. I miss you. All these things went unsaid.

"I don't really have time, I'm so busy," I forced a chuckle. "I'm sure you feel the same, big movie star," I said, nudging him and moving away, I couldn't be this close to him anymore.

"Yeah, totally," I heard him say as I shut the bathroom door.