Begin Again

February 10th 2018

I stared at my laptop until my eyes felt like they were going to pop out. Moira's email was a novella, and all I could focus on was the "WHY."

Moira was apologetic, explaining that the Board of Century had hand-picked me for this multi-million peso project because they knew me. She insisted I couldn't do it alone and that I'd be reporting to their office after the summit. My reply was a sarcastic "yey," followed by a plea to get me out of it. She countered by calling me the "smartest/bravest/awesome" person in the company and reminded me that her brother would be there to help.

Great.

A loud, aggressive knocking snapped me out of my email-induced anxiety. Seriously? A doorbell exists for a reason! I stomped over to the door, ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of my mind.

But the words died in my throat as lips crashed onto mine without warning.

I didn't even have time to be angry. The scent—that specific, intoxicating perfume—hit me, and my brain short-circuited. I knew those lips. I leaned into them, and he kicked the door shut behind him, pushing me against the wood without ever breaking the kiss. His hands were everywhere, frantic and hungry, sliding under my pajamas to find my skin, snapping the lock of my bra, and tossing my shirt aside until I was bare against his fully clothed frame.

It was unfair, and I told him so with a small, desperate noise. He didn't say a word, just unbuttoned his shirt and let his belt hit the floor with a heavy thud before scooping me up.

When we finally slowed down for a breath, I managed to gasp, "Paano mo nalaman kung saan ako?"

"I asked your boss," he murmured against my skin. "Your family wouldn't tell me anything. Especially your sister."

"You can't blame them," I whispered, tracing his lips.

He didn't give me a chance to say more. He was a man starving, and I was just as hungry to fill the years of emptiness between us.

Hours later, tangled under the sheets, the reality of the morning hit me.

"I can't let it happen, Fen," Philip said, his voice turning serious.

I propped myself up on my elbow, ignoring my state of undress. "Philip, we both know our 'marriage' isn't legally registered here. It wasn't formal."

He sat up, eyes flashing. "Is that what this was? You forgave me just so it would be easier to ask for your freedom?"

"Of course not!" I grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward me until I could cage him in my arms. "I forgave you so we could start over! I want us to be clean, to leave the ugly memories behind. Don't you want that?"

He looked terrified, his grip tightening. "I can't be without you. I'm so scared that if I grant your wish, you'll run away again. I'll lose you forever."

"I'm not running," I promised, resting my head on his shoulder. "I'll stay by your side as long as you need me."

"You're all I ever need, Fen," he whispered, his hands moving with that familiar, mischievous intent. "I'm all yours—body and soul. And I'll never stop... needing you."

He grinned, the playful spark back in his eyes. We started all over again, filling the silence with the rhythm of two people who had finally found their way home.

Just before things got heated again, he stopped, winked at me, and whispered, "And oh, wife? See you soon at my office."

I blinked. What?