Sleeping With My Married Ex

Chapter 14

How in the hell did I end up in this position? I only stopped by to pick up some book Anthony recommended. Yet, here I am, my face buried deep into the mattress, biting the blanket to muffle my ragged breaths. Maybe the week apart with me being away with my family was too long for him, he being a testosterone driven man and all.  

The icy-hot sensation of his tongue slowly running from the small of my back to the top of my spine sends shivers and tingles down to my toes. Maybe wearing that swoop back shirt wasn't the best idea. He blows along the trail his tongue left. Or maybe it was if I consider how good he's making me feel right now. No better than a guy interested in my own pleasure as much as his.

I feel kind of bad, though, laying here allowing him to direct his attention and focus on me while I sit here with my secret. When we went out for his birthday I planned to tell him then. But lately, things haven't been going as I plan. That's nerve wrecking for me. I may be disorganized, but I never divert from my course. It's about time for me to get back on course, do what I set out to do. Only when that's complete can I afford to indulge in random activities.

Donovan takes his time pulling out every sigh, whimper, and moan he can with that sexy little mouth and skilled fingers of his. Maybe I'm easy because everything he does drives me bonkers. Oh, there's no maybe about it. And here I thought I was only making a quick stop. Funny how time flies when you're having fun.  

And Donovan's a fun guy. For his birthday date we traded places, and I laugh to tears whenever I remember his feminine manner from the date. He was a total chick.
During dinner, he had twirled one finger close to his mouth, mimicking 1980's bumble gum girls. "Oh my god, you bought me a cake. You so sweet," he says in the most ridiculous female voice ever. "And look. It has little strawberries on it. I love strawberries." I bite my lips to keep myself from cracking up just thinking about it. He took full advantage of me that day. If his model is anything slightly accurate to how real females behave, I'm glad I'm not a guy.

"Well," I huff, "that certainly wasn't expecting but definitely appreciated and enjoyed."
He hoovers over me on all fours, chuckling. "You're welcome."
"Aren't you conceited." I shove him to the side and sit up holding the blanket around me. "You're not that bad. For a burnt out firefighter that is."
He picks up the pillow behind me and smacks it against my head. "Whatever. I'm the best you ever had and will ever have."
"Big statement." I hold up my hand when he opens his mouth to silence him. "And don't you dare say what I think you're going to say."
He laughs and shuffles off the bed into the bathroom.
"What time do you have to be at the station tonight?" I call out.
"Six."

Glancing at the clock, I decide to get myself together and leave since it was almost 5PM. The showers turns on. With the blanket still wrapped around me, I shuffle into the bathroom to wash myself off while he's in the tub. I'm already in my clothes by time he exits the bathroom with navy Dickie's on. It's a little like playing house, us dressing and parting for work this way. I should be familiar with this by now. I'm not. Maybe that's because I never let him spend the night at my place, and I've never spent the night here. I'm not sure. All I know is that it feels like I should have his dinner packaged, kiss him as he leaves out, and make him promise to come home safely. I shudder.

"What's wrong? he asks, sliding into his uniform shirt.
I shake my head. "Nothing. A ghost just walk through me."
One arm still out the shirt, he freezes, examines me, and shakes his head at whatever conclusion he just derived. I sit cross legged on the bed.

"By the way, what was it you had to tell me before?"
I put my legs down and stretch my arms out. "Nothing really." I utter a sigh. The time has come, the Walrus said. "Just that I'm moving."
He turns to face me, slipping on his socks. "When?"
"Second week in August." Only four weeks from now. Four weeks that will fly by in the blank of an eye. "My lease is up at the end of the summer anyway."
"Where are you moving? Do you need help?"

I smile, touched by his consideration, but my smile holds little amusement. None really. "I'm not telling you," I tease.

He throws his pillow at my head. I didn't expect that and it smacks against my temple. I pull it away and toss it back. "Why not?"
I shrug. "It makes no difference whether you know or not. Does it?"
"Doesn't it? What if I need to pick you up or something?"
"That's not going to happen." I run my fingers through my sexed-out hair, shifting the strands into the proper place. "It's not a permanent move or anything. I'll be back."

Socks on, he straightens, a frown plastered on his face. "Back. Back from where?"
"Back in Baltimore." A non-answer of sorts.
"So you're moving outside of the city? How far out."
"Far."
"How far, Shannon?" His voice is sharp, cutting straight to the point.
"Far. That's all you need to know."
His jaw ticks.

I know I'm being difficult, making this worst than it need be. But I feel guilty. I should have told him this the moment I knew. I kept putting it off because I know nothing positive is going to come from it. I mean, how could it? I'm moving to California for the love of all.

"Four weeks, huh. You're just up and moving. Far. Why tell me now when your bags are practically packed?"

His tone, it's angry. I know I'm making him angry. I know it. I would change it if I could, but to do so...I shake my head. I'm not even going to go there. Not even to pacify him. Somethings are better left unsaid after all. I didn't intend for it this turn out this way. I wanted to ease into it smoothly, that way we could avoid this entire blow up. But it's been a miss from the moment I opened my mouth and nothing I said has salvaged it.

"I didn't have to tell you at all, Donovan. If I decide to leave, I can do so. So don't snip at me like that." I stand up. "I told you because I wanted you to know. What difference does it make whether I told you four weeks or fourteen weeks in advance? None. Because the end is still the same." It's the truth. The amount of time doesn't change anything. Not in this case.

"You know something. You are something else."

I laugh thinking about something I once saw where that phrase was used. "I know I am." My laughter subsides. "What are you getting so pissed off about Donovan? I know the way I told you was fucked in a way, but what would you have done if I would have told you earlier? Nothing. There's nothing you can do. At least not for me. How about you take this time to figure out what direction you want to go in now that your divorce is almost finalized."

"If I want a fucking psychologist to tell me what I should and shouldn't do, I'll pay for one."
I shrug. "I know a few if you want a recommendation."

"This isn't a joke!" his voice thunders around us. I flinch. The words of caution my friend warned me about all those years ago floated into my head as I look at his face. He's really mad. "I know this may come as shock to you Shannon, but this world doesn't revolve around you. You can't just fuck with people like little pawns then throw them away when it's convenient."

"Funny, since I was the one first thrown aside," I mumble to myself. Or at least I thought it was to myself. His nose flares. Why do I feel like the guy in red standing in line of a raging bull?

"That is not what I meant. I told you that before. You know it, so why even bring it up?"

I know. And I feel like a complete ass for bringing it back up. I'm such a contradiction. I fuss at him for something that I turn around and do. I want to scratch at my head, but I refuse to lose composure in the face of his attitude. Why am I doing this? Why? Haven't I learned that this doesn't work well. Me pushing him away. Again. "It shouldn't even faze you this much. At all. There's nothing tying me to you. We're free to do what we please, right? Yet, here you are getting all pissy on me like I'm some sort of run away bride or something. If you came to me and said you were moving far away, I'd say okay and make the best of our time left."

"I wouldn't come to you right when my bags are packed. It doesn't matter if I was moving far away or not. It's call common courtesy. Usually, you tell people that are involved in your life somehow that you're moving away when you first find out. So unless your just found out while on vacation, and knowing you, you've probably know this for a long ass time," Guilty, "there's no excuse you can make."
"Do you hear me making an excuse. I just did tell you."
"When you first find out. You don't keep it a secret to reveal at the last minutes. As if I'm some damn side thought."
"So I've been keeping a secret. So what. It's not the end of the world. At least I'm not cheating on you like your wife did. That's worst."
"No. You're worst than Tara."
A humorless laugh escapes from me. "Of all the rude, insulting, completely bullshit things to say, you say that." My eyes narrow. My tone becomes short and clip. "I'm nothing like your wife and certainly not worst."
"At least Tara is upfront with it."
I nod in agreement. "Doesn't get more upfront than fucking other men in your house while you're not that and you know about it. Stupid genius."
He jams his feet into his shoes. "The same stupid genius you're sleeping with. Same married one. Get off that high horse, baby. You're no better than anyone else."

Ouch. Double dog ouch. He didn't pull any shots with that one, did he? My mind is spinning. Yes, I knew this conversation would be bad. That's why I kept putting it off. Did I have any idea it would turn out like this? No. Not at all. There's a reason I avoid arguments. I don't have the capacity for it. Emotionally. Mentally. My jaws clench tightly. "Thanks. For reminding me that I've been acting out of character lately. It's about time I remembered that and stop myself from becoming as big a fool as you are."
"Get out." He doesn't look at me. He just grabs his wallet and walks out the room, leaving me there alone to see myself out.


I stand there staring at nothing, cursing myself for being such a bitch. There's not other way I can describe myself at the moment. The front door slams. I still don't know why I just did that. This is why I'm not a marriage-relationship counselor. To do and say things that are guaranteed to hurt, which I just did...I have no answers for why people do that.

He's not pissed that I'm moving. I won't even allow myself to confuse this whole...disaster with that. I was inconsiderate to him. When he said he wanted to fly solo, I felt used and unimportant. Back then I already knew about this move. I've known for a while. So really, he's the used unimportant one. Characteristics no person wants to be. I made him that way.

I slap my palm to my forehead twice, grab my purse and leave. His car isn't out here anymore. I thought I ran away from arguments quickly. He doesn't even wait to make sure I actually left. He just storms off and leaves like I witnessed when he fought with his wife.
I get into my car and remember the book, which is why I even come over here in the first place. But I don't go back to get it. Not like I can. The house door is locked and Anthony isn't home right now.

Starting the car, I pull out of the driveway and just drive. Drive absentmindedly. Drive until I no longer see that manor of a house in my rear view mirror. Drive until I can put this whole thing behind me. Until I can find a way to fix it. I'm not sure I can. Not when I can still visualize his face before he walked out. Careless words aren't aways harmless words. Not if his expression has anything to say about it. He's going to hate me.

I drive around for an hour until I just stop. Reality settling in, I look around to see where I randomly stopped my car. I don't remember taking the path this way, but since I'm here...I get out my car and walk up the pathway to the front door where I pound on it non-stop until the door is flung open.

"Why are you banging like the damn poli--Aw. Hell. What happened?"
Warren opens his arms and I walk into them burying my head into his chest.

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