Simone.

“I can,” the words effortlessly escape my lips.

I linger a moment longer until I realize my words surprise me more than they surprise her. When she doesn't say anything, I slip out of my chair, and with a thudding heart, I heard for the door. When I say goodbye to the twins, I twist the door knob.

I don't know what I expected to happen but I know that Abby won't scream after me and try to stop me. I know that she won't come running to me to shake my shoulders and tell me what I'm doing is wrong, or that I'm making a mistake.

I risk a glance over my shoulder; Abby isn't behind me; she is still in her spot at the island table.

I exhale. This is truly happening; if I walk out this door, there is no going back. There is no more Abby's mouth on mine, her watermelon scent on my nose, her breath on my face. No more Abby's hands on my waist, caressing the parts that I hate about my body. No more of that.

So, with a heavy breath, I walk out the door, welcoming the blush of the warm afternoon air.

I feel tears prick the concerns of my eyes but I can't get myself to understand why I'm at the brink of tears when this was my idea.

Why am I so angry if I truly wanted this?

I walk back to my house as frantically as I can. Ms. Daphne looks at me with a big smile, and I wave back. I hate how much I'm still able to fake a smile even with all these raging emotions in my chest.

When I get to the house, I shut the door and rush upstairs. Without even caring to take off my clothes, I step into the shower and turn on the water.

Then I scream.

I don't care that the cold water is pounding on my fully dressed body, I just want this out of my chest, all of it. I want her out of my chest. I loathe how much she has affected me. I know it's a bit dramatic, but how does she get to make me cry right after I ask her not to kiss me again?

When I walked up to her house early, I had practiced what I wanted to say, all of it, word by word. But the moment I saw her, everything just vanished, and I was merely relying on my half-functioning brain for wisdom. I remember her stoic expression when I said I couldn't let it happen again; she was shocked, she was confused, and all those other little emotions I couldn't see through her eyes.

I exhale and turn off the water. I'm not sure how long I've been here, but my heart doesn't pound as much. I step out and take off my clothes, skipping into the dry and warmer robe. I stare into the mirror, my eyes are red and are starting to swell. The image looking back at me seems sad and stupid but my mind runs to Zack for relief.

But when does it stop? When do I stop caring for someone who doesn't care about me? When do I finally realize that I need to do something selfish to be happy? When?

My thoughts haunt me until I fall asleep. When I open my eyes, someone is cooking in the kitchen. I walk down and find Zack. He has changed into his comfy sweatshirt and pants, and he is making dinner. It's been a while since I last saw him make dinner but this makes me smile.

“Hey,” I greet, my voice groggy and cutting. He turns to me, a wide smile spread on his face.

“You're up.” He then goes back to the pan and stirs. “I'm making dinner, I hope you're hungry.”

“Starving,” I mumble, and sit on the stool. My head settles in my palm, watching this work of art do these things for me.

“Are you feeling okay? I found you sleeping and I thought you were sick or something.”

I shrug. “I'm good.” I lie.

One thing about Zack is that he knows when I'm lying, he has a way to see right through me and my lies. But how do I tell him that I sort of broke up with someone I kissed once? It sounds even crazier in my head. Abby was a mistake, an oversight. A little rush of adrenaline that would disappear with time.

“Well, I'm glad you're okay.” He leans over the counter and kisses my lips, slow and gentle, and he tastes like spice.

“I wanted to make it up to you, for last night,” Zack says midway through dinner.

I swallow, the vivid memory of our conversation hitting me back up. I don't say anything.

“I'm sorry I haven't been available.” Here we go again. “I shouldn't have lashed out like that, I just don't like it when you're hurting.”

Really? I want to scream, but I stay quiet, I offer a gentle smile and continue eating.

“Aren't you going to say anything?” he continues.

I shake my head and shrug. I don't have anything to say, really; I touched a sensitive topic for both of us only because I wanted him to hurt. That's it.

“I'm sorry too.” I'm not.

Zack reaches out and places his hand on top of mine. “Can you please promise me to never bring up the baby issue again?”

I swallow past the ball in my throat and nod. “Of course. “

Zack kisses my forehead and excuses himself to go and bathe.

My appetite has vanished so I ditch my foot and stand in my bedroom window. Somewhere at the back of my head, I'm hoping to find Abby standing there too. Waiting for me. Because I honestly miss her face, her green sparkly eyes that were so dull this afternoon. I miss her cool and knowing smile, I miss the way she looks at me.

But I can't get that back now. I don't know what happens next but all I know is things between us can never be the same again. She probably hates me for leading her on; I mean, I am married, I know that, and so does she, but why did I not pull away when she started caressing my face? Why did I not pull away when she lifted my chin? Why did I not pull away when I felt her breath on my face or her lips on mine..

Screw being vulnerable, I wanted that, I wanted to kiss her and the twisted part is I enjoyed every second of it. The rush of riskiness, the hunger in the way she drew me in. The desperate need to stay in her mouth.

I hate to admit it, I'm ashamed to do so, but I liked it.

When Zack comes up behind me, I grit my teeth. Why is reality so cruel? Always coming back when things are getting interesting.

Zack kisses my neck from behind, I let out a forced moan but keep my eyes on Abby's window. Like I'm a siren, and she heeds my voice, she comes up to draw the curtains; I step away from Zack like he is hot lava on my skin.

“I'm sorry,” I breathe. “I'm just tired.”

I know there's no point because Abby can't see me anymore, but I feel like I'm betraying her the way I felt like I was betraying Zack when I was with her.

“Can you at least get him down?” Zack glances at his erect penis.

I swallow. No, I don't want to. That is my honest answer, but I'm his wife; if I don't do the conjugal things expected of me, why should I blame him if he gets it from somewhere else?

So, I nod and get on my knees. I want to puke when I take him in my mouth, but that wouldn't be the worst thing. If anything, it might save me from this.

++++

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Love, Nommy 🔥