Wednesday (14 page)

Cade’s eyes get big and he smiles.
“I have my own room at Nana’s and I play tennis.”

“Tennis?” Alex scoffs.

Thankfully, Cade doesn’t notice.

“We go to the beach and play with
the twins and –”

“That’s great, Caden,” Alex cuts
him short.  “Really great. Now why don’t you eat that bagel so you can get big
and strong for
tennis.
I need to talk to your mom.”

It’s like we never left.

“You look good, babe,” he says in
what he thinks is his low sexy voice. Really it just sounds like he’s
constipated.

“Tell me why you’re here,” I
demand, even though I don’t want to hear any of it.

“To see my son.”

Cade looks up at me and I give him
our
be on your best behavior
look – the one he knows means it’s the two
of us against the world so let’s do it right.

 I slide my phone over to him so he
can play games as a distraction. He doesn’t need to hear his father’s confession.

“And.” I wave my hand to encourage.
I want it all on the table.

“To tell you that I want to
renegotiate terms of the divorce.”

That fucker. He never filed the
papers. I knew when I was talking to him on the phone and that’s the only
reason why I agreed to submit Cade to this. I have to figure out what the hell
is going on. Why? Everything was in his best interest in those papers.
Everything.

“Why, Alex? I signed the papers.
You signed the papers. It’s a done deal.”

“I never filed them.”

Asshole.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, if you’re coming here to
disrupt our lives, then you better damn well be sure what your plan is.”

“It’s just the guys.” He rubs his
head. I can only imagine the pressure all this actual thinking causes him.
“They think I need to straighten all this out. It’s not a good image going from
toting Cade all over the place and then nothing.”

“I never wanted you exploiting him
like that in the first place and you know it. That’s no way for a little boy to
live.”

“Look, you don’t have all these
people breathing down your neck, digging into your personal shit.”

Of course Cade heard the curse.

“You swore, Dad.”

“Dads are allowed,” he says.

What an idiot.

“Are you going to file the papers?
Let’s start there.”

“Not yet.”

“No. That’s unacceptable,” I say,
trying to keep my voice down. “We are not going to wait in limbo for you. I
will get my own attorney and start the process back up – from scratch if we
have to.”

“Don’t fight me on this, Aria,” he
says. The entitled football player is definitely back. “If you push me, it
won’t go in your favor. I can promise you that.”

I’m chilled at his words, knowing I
can’t possibly part from Cade. Not even for one day. My eyes begin to fill, but
I fight back. He will not see me weak.

“Cade, let’s go,” I tell him,
standing up. And then I level a look at Alex. “Come back when you decide what
you want. Don’t come back until you do. Please think of him for once.”

“I am, Aria. Really. And you. Maybe
you guys could come back with me. Maybe we could try it out – on a trial
basis.”

That’s when the media storms in.

And by the time I get to Tris, it’s
too late.

“So the divorce
isn’t final yet?”

Silence.

“Danny?”

“Jesus Christ, I had no idea who
you were talking about. Let me guess, with all the commotion going on in town,
you must be talking about Aria.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Aw, shit, Tris. What are you
doing?”

“It’s nothing. Well, not nothing.
Just sex, but I didn’t know a husband was in the picture.”

“A 275-pound husband, no less.”

“So they are still married?”

“I have no idea, Tris. I know the
papers were filed, but the story kinda dropped off after that. I’m not sure if
it went through or not. Is she still wearing her wedding ring?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t wear
it when she’s with you. But have you seen her in public?”

“She doesn’t wear it, Danny.”

“How ’bout this, then. Ask her?”

“I can’t do that,” I say.

“You’re sleeping with her and you
can’t ask if she’s married?”

“It’s not part of the deal.”

“What do you mean, deal? You have a
contract for sex?”

“Something like that.”

“You are fucked up, Tristan.” He’s
silent for a long time. “So if it’s just sex, does it matter? They’re obviously
separated. Or they were. It’s her problem, not yours.”

I feel like I’m going to lose it.
Get sick or smash Danny’s face in. I’m not sure which. But his words play over
and over in my brain. They’re separated. Or they were.

Did they get back together?

I can’t even go there.

I’ve fucked up at my own game. This
isn’t just about our agreement anymore. It’s morphing into more and I have to
put a stop to these feelings pronto.

***

Heddy’s already with Dad, and I can’t
stay cooped up in the office any longer, so I head to the beach. 

Aria’s waiting for me.

I can’t look at her right now, so I
blow past her up the stairs without a word.

She’s fucking married.

And that means something. It means
she’s off limits. Who am I kidding, she’s always been off limits to me. This
has been a fun game, but it’s time to end it before someone gets really hurt.

Bee-lining for the fridge, I take
out a beer. It’s a short-lived cool, yet bitter, relief.  Aria slowly, gently,
eases her arms around my waist and hell if it doesn’t feel good. Her head rests
at the center of my back, like she’s trying to draw strength from me. She takes
it slow and cautious.

“I didn’t know,” she whispers, her
voice so low I strain to hear it.

“Well ,now we do know,” I say,
turning around.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she
says, her body rigid, ready for a fight.

“It changes everything,” I tell
her. “Every damn thing.”

I’m wound so tight
I can hardly walk. So I take off my shoes and run down to the beach. The rough
sand on my feet and the salty air kissing my face would usually get me to loosen
up to gain a clear head. I’m beyond it at this point.

There’s only one thing that would
make me feel better and only person who understands what I need at my most
human, primal level.

Tris.

His home calls to me. I always feel
better when I can see it on the shore. Tris will come. He’ll be there. I’ll
stay all night if I have to.

I settle on his steps to wait. It’s
a stupid mistake.

An hour later, I see his shadow.
Even in the darkness, I know it’s him. He’s not thrilled to find me on his
step, and doesn’t even look at me when he storms up the stairs.

The screen door slams against the
frame hard two times. I catch it on the third.

He’s in the kitchen with a beer and
I make my way to him, drawn in such a way I have no choice in the matter.  My
hand runs the length of his spine. He turns around and buries his head in the
crook of my neck. I stroke his head, running my hands through his mussed hair.

Tris tenses and his breath hitches.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

My hands move down his chest and he
pushes into them. The touch, the connection, is something we both desperately
need.

“No, Aria,” he says while he still
can, before my hands reach the place of no return.

“I need you,” I tell him, my chest
tight and achy. It’s been one of the worst days of my life and I just want him
to take it all away for me. I need it. “I want you.”

Oh, he is so hard when my hands
finally reach their ultimate goal. He grabs my wrists, but instead of pulling
them away, he holds me to him. Into his throbbing erection.

I press my overheated body against
him and begin moving my hands. Tristan releases the most pained sound. It’s a
low cry – one I haven’t heard before. He’s in pain.

My fingers skillfully work the
zipper on his jeans so I can have more, get closer. I want to feel all of him.
Stripping him of his clothes, and making quick work of mine, I push into him.  Skin
on skin. I feel like I might explode – with lust, with want, and something I’m
most terrified of…with love.

I’ve known for a few days now. I
don’t know, maybe it never went away. I push the thought out of my mind and let
Tris take over; he’s dying to.   

He’s become so familiar and I get
lost in his warm scent and tangle my fingers in his hair again while nipping at
his lips. He still won’t give me anything yet. So pull his hair. Hard.

“Aria,” he hisses, circling his
hands around my neck and I release my grip.

My body is putty in his hands and
he handles me, marks me. He lifts me to his waist and my legs wrap around him
while he carries us up to the bedroom.

He sets me down roughly on the
floor, not meeting my eyes. It stings, the coldness of it all, but I don’t want
to stop.

“Hey.” I place my hands on his
face. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not at
all. And I’m in no frame of mind to be doing this.”

I can see the pain Alex’s visit has
caused, and I can feel the history of hurt. It’s palpable. Still, this is the
only way to get through it. This is how we work, how we communicate.

Panic is laced through my voice,
when I say
please.

“We both need this, Tris. Please.”

He pushes me down on the bed and
covers me with his body. Normally, this would be when he’d whisper something
sweet or filthy in my ear. This time, there are no words. Only touch and
movement as we struggle to become one. This is us. No matter how close, or how
entangled, we want more.

But when he stills, I’m not so sure.

I feel connected to him so deeply,
so I wait in this vulnerable position as if proving I’m his and he can do what
he wants with me. I pray it helps, but there’s a sick feeling deep in my core.

The taste of beer on his tongue is
bitter as he plunders my mouth with a punishing kiss. But I open for him,
accepting all of it.

Tristan then positions himself
between my legs and I close my eyes, wanting to forget everything that happened
today. Wanting him to fill me completely. 

The crinkle of the condom wrapper
makes my legs go weak. But I don’t have time to prepare because he slides in so
fast and deep, I see stars.

The movements are rough; his thrust
jarring.

And I let myself go. 

***

I feel empty when we finish – like
this part of us has run its course and come full circle. We’ve run the gamut of
emotions, trying to control them with our bodies.

Sex for excitement; to cure
boredom; for lust and desire; to seek comfort and release; for hate and revenge;
to heal and even to love. Tonight felt like closure.

God, I hope I’m wrong.  

“So when is the divorce going
through?” Tris asks.

I’m spread out on the bed, but Tris
sits. It’s never been this way and that sick feeling is back with a vengeance.

“I’m not sure,” I tell him. “It’s a
long story, but right now we’re just waiting –”

“Fine.” He bites the word, not
allowing me to finish. “I don’t even want to know.”

It was just like the day at the
wedding – he was making up his own mind, not caring enough to listen to my answer.

It pisses me off.

Something changes in the air. It’s
thick and stifling with regret, pain, and things we just can’t undo. With Alex
back in the picture, it’s all been brought to the surface again. The shit just got
real and there’s no going back.

I go downstairs to grab my clothes.
Tristan doesn’t follow.

So I leave with my heart in my
hands. And the hardest part? I don’t know if I’ll ever return again.

After Aria leaves,
I can’t stay at the beach house. Everywhere I look, I see her. Feel her. Smell
her.

Things aren’t any better when I get
back to Dad’s.

The house is empty, eerily quiet.

Once I flick on the lights, the
hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Dad’s chair is overturned and the
house is in disarray. My eyes take in the room before landing on a piece of
paper on the kitchen counter. A note.

Tristan,

We’re going to Memorial West. I’ve
tried calling your cell and the beach house, but keep getting your voicemail.

Come to the hospital when you get
this message.

Heddy.

I immediately check my phone, the
one I wasn’t answering to avoid Aria. It’s full of more messages from Heddy.

6:00pm: Tris, your dad’s not
looking so hot today. Have you noticed any changes?

6:45pm: Honey, I think we need to
get Paul into the doctor tomorrow. Something’s not right.

7:30: I know it’s your night off,
but I think maybe you should come home.

8:00: Tris, I think he’s having
another stroke. The ambulance is on the way.

Dad is in surgery when I finally
arrive and I feel like a piece of shit. This is exactly why he asked me to come
home. So he didn’t have to go through everything alone.

Another reason why I can’t get
wrapped up in Aria. It’s too damn much drama and I get in it so deep that
everything else in my life suffers.

“Tristan.” Heddy finds me at the
nurses’ station. “He’s still in surgery.”

***

I spend the night at the hospital
and try to send Heddy home, but she insists on staying until we hear from the
surgeon. At two a.m., a middle-aged man with tiny wire-rimmed glasses comes out
to confirm that Dad did have another stroke and that we really won’t know the
damage until the swelling in his brain goes down.