Charlie's Angel

11

"What happened?" Sam gasped when I was in the safety of her car. I called her and requested she pick me up from the Quick Trip by Chris' house. The two kids were sleeping in the backseat. "Charlie?"

"We kissed," I mumbled. My head was spinning, swimming in the unknown abyss. I didn't know what was right and wrong. What was a dream and what was reality. The kiss was nice, really nice. But Chris and I had to respect the fact that I was married. "We fucking kissed."

I just cheated on my husband–on my birthday.

"Then why are you upset?" Her lips turned into a knowing smirk. "I know you enough to know you liked it."

"Sam," I cut my eyes at her, "I'm married. Like damn, am I the only one who remembers this?"
"Charlie, I already told you—"

"I don't wanna hear it, Sam," I snapped. She huffed, put the car in drive. "Can you just take Isaiah home?"

"Fine." In five minutes, we pulled into his driveway. "You wanna—nevermind. I'll be back."

"No, I'll do it." I slid out of the car and hoisted Isaiah onto my shoulder. His arms latched onto my neck and I carried him to the front door, knocking twice.

He looked surprised to see me at first, then regretful, finally just opting to take his nephew from me. "Um, hi."

I passed Isaiah over and he whined in his sleep but didn't bother to wake up.

"Good night," I mumbled to Chris, attempting to turn on my heels and high tail it out of his presence.

"Wait," he insisted. "Just wait here, please."
I stepped inside his house and closed the door behind me, watched Chris carry the sleeping boy upstairs. I waited in the foyer and fidgeted with my hands in anticipation. That choking feeling was back in my throat, and my back was slick with sweat.

He jogged back down the stairs, holding my birthday present, and stared at me for a moment. "I'm sorry for kissing you. I don't know why I did it." He was taking the blame. For something I did.

I stepped closer to him, almost blushing at his embarrassment. I lifted his chin to meet my eyes and offered a smile. "Chris, I'm a married woman. We can't do things like this, and you know that." Lie.

I expected him to agree with me, but he didn't. Instead he laughed darkly. "Then why are you here? Why do you keep hanging out with me, knowing we can't make anything of this?"

"Excuse me for thinking we could be just friends."

"Sometimes friendships turn into relationships, Mystery. Don't you know that?" He muttered angrily. "Why can't you see that I fucking like you? Damn, are you that blinded by your bitch-ass husband that you can't see that what I'm giving you is genuine?"

My stomach dropped and my heart felt like it collided with a brick wall. I couldn't form the words; my mouth was dry. "Chris, don't say that."

"And why not?"

"Chris," I sighed, struggling to focus on his face through my tears. It was like I was looking through a kaleidoscope. "How could you possibly think anything could come from this?"

"It would if you would just open up your eyes!" He dropped the bag from his hand and it made a thud on the ground, balled his fists. His sudden change in demeanor had me scared. "Mystery, you gotta realize that your husband is no good for you. He doesn't love you, and it's only gonna get worse. What if he does something to Paris? Then what, huh?" A silence fell between us as he thought about what he had said. His face muscles relaxed and he sighed. His arms tried wrapping around my torso. And as much as I needed—craved—his affection, I fought against him and squirmed out of his reach.