Authors: Nadene Seiters
Chivalry is not something that comes easy to me.
I don’t know how to treat a woman right, and Melanie deserves
someone who can. I won’t deny that the inferno between us still exists. It was
hard enough sleeping next to her last night and waking up to see her wearing my
t-shirt.
But I’m not the man for her, not now.
A selfish part of me wants to pray that she will still be
single when I am ready to become that man. If she’s not, I’ll have to find a
way to deal. It’s only fair.
Her arm brushes against mine as she stands when our flight
number is called. I want to reach down and pretend that I’m not being just a friend,
but that wouldn’t be fair. I’ve given her enough mixed signals over the past
twenty four hours. It’s time that we both went home and straightened up our
lives.
I text Christina to let her know that we’re on our way back.
Then I try to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life that
doesn’t involve staying at Brent’s place. I don’t want to become a lawyer, and
I don’t want to stay in Vegas. In fact, Nevada is starting to look like a state
where I don’t want to reside.
When the plane touches down, I’m still unsure of my future.
We catch a cab back to the Hickory homestead. Brent is
already gone, and Christina is just starting to lock up the front door when we
pull up. I help Melanie from the cab. The dark look her sister casts me does
not go unnoticed, but she has nothing to worry about. I won’t be holding her
sister back from the rest of her adult life.
“I’d like to say home sweet home, but it just doesn’t fit.”
Melanie hoists her purse on her shoulder and leads the way into her sister’s
house. Christina says something about details, and I can’t help my smirk.
Thankfully, she doesn’t see.
Three cats scream as soon as Melanie is through the door. As
soon as they’re done greeting her, they sniff me like I’m completely new again.
I bend down to pat each one of them on the head and scratch behind the ears of
the female since she stays.
“You like cats?” I feel as if this might be a loaded
question and think about my answer.
“I do, although not all cats like me.”
The crease between her brows is unexpected, but she doesn’t
give me time to ask her why she looks disappointed. I decide not to follow up
on it and head up the stairs to my room. After a quick shower and a fresh
change of clothes, I sit down at my laptop and begin to look at real estate
around the country.
Melanie knocks on my door an hour and a half later. I know
it must be her since no one else is home.
“Come in.” I call out as I start to close the tabs open on
my screen.
The door creaks open she peeks her head through the gap and
one of her cats sneaks into the guest room I’m staying in. She looks rather
disappointed again, and unsure.
“What is it?” I don’t want to push her, but if she’s going
to show up with that expression, I might as well figure out what it’s for.
“Oh, I just wanted to know if you were up for lunch.”
“No, not that.” She looks startled when I stand up to open
the door fully. “This.” I put my thumb to the crease and feel her flesh heat
where I’ve touched her. “You’re worried about something.”
“It’s nothing.” She bends down to scoop up her cat twining
around my legs. There’s an instant where I think about reaching out to stop
her, but I don’t.
I assume the lunch offer has gone cold. That’s alright, I’m
not hungry anyway. I sit back down at my laptop and peruse the neighborhoods
along the California coastline, and wonder if I’d like to live by the beach.
There’s no point in lingering over Melanie in my thoughts any longer. If I’m
going to stop thinking about her romantically, it has to be now, and it has to
be cold turkey.
“Hey, you hungry?” I hear her call from the end of the
hallway. Screw cold turkey. I want to quit slowly.
She has something on the counter that I suppose is leftovers
from the previous night. Whatever it is, I assume that Christina actually made
it. It’s not the fact that it’s in glass dishes, but the presentation.
“Is that supposed to be macaroni and cheese?” It looks like
a glob of yellow cement.
“I think so.” We both scrunch our noses at the same time,
and I slide it back into the refrigerator. I’m not big on eating yellow paste.
After a quick snack of peanut butter crackers, I make
homemade hot chocolate and try my hand at conversation again.
“I lost my business to a mobster.” It sounds like a corny
line out of a movie, and Melanie almost chokes on her generous gulp of her
homemade treat.
“I lost my dignity to a cheating bastard, and I don’t know
how to get it back.” She counters.
“You know how I said I wouldn’t let it go beyond petting two
days ago, and yesterday I said I wanted to be friends?” I wait for her hesitant
nod. “Then don’t take it as jealousy when I ask you what you ever saw in that
man.” I catch her smiling before it disappears behind the rim of her mug as she
takes another sip.
“I saw light companionship and convenience. Besides, I
thought that after we slept together maybe we’d like each other more.” I want
to tell her how ridiculous that statement is, but I guess it’s better to woo a
woman first and sleep with her after you know you like her. It’s a shame I
didn’t beg her to stick around.
“It’s stupid, I know.” I think about it, and decide not to
answer her. Melanie is not stupid, but she made a mistake. I made a nuclear
explosion sized mistake.
“What’s stupid is telling a mob boss to go fuck himself.”
“You’ve got me beat there. I wasn’t in any mortal danger.
Did you really say that to him?”
“No, but I might as well have. I guess he won in the end.”
She comes around the counter and rests a warm hand on my shoulder. I wish I
could tell her just what that hand is doing to my insides.
“No, he didn’t. You have your entire life ahead of you, and
he’s just some asshole with a club. This is an opportunity for you to make
something of yourself!” I think about that for a long time as her hand stays on
my shoulder. I’m not sure if she understands that it’s been there for several
minutes.
“Melanie?”
“Hm?”
“If you want to stay friends, stop touching me.” A nervous
chuckle brushes across my hearing as she lets her hand slide away. I catch it
before she can maneuver away, and wonder why I ever said anything about being
friends. What was I thinking? I can’t be chivalrous.
“Alex,” She says my name like a warning, but she puts down
her half-finished drink. Our hands stay connected as I stand, and pull her to
me.
“I don’t want to be friends.” I’m very aware that it’s been
four days since her hellacious breakup with her fiancé, but I was married to
her for over two years. That should count for something, right?
“Yeah, me neither.” She whispers. I pull her to me until
we’re a mass of limbs trying to fit on one stool. Her hips are jutting against
mine as I glide my fingers into her long hair. Even though she’s used different
shampoo, there is still the hint of lavender on her skin.
“We can’t, not here.” I have a feeling there is supposed to
be more to that sentence, and put my hands under her for support. Then I keep
her legs wrapped around my waist as I carry her to the front door. I make sure
the latch is locked, and take her up the stairs.
Maybe it’s not as romantic as a high class hotel or my own
place, but that doesn’t matter to me. It’s Melanie, and I’ve been waiting a
long time for this chance again. Perhaps I didn’t consciously think about it,
but my body has been craving the feel of hers against mine since the night we
met.
Her breath escapes her lips rapidly when I lay her onto the
bed roughly. Before I know it, my shirt is over my head, and she’s wearing
nothing but her bottoms and a bra. I relish in the moan that escapes her when
my fingertips slide underneath the rim of the thin material hiding her breasts.
Her hands fumble at my zipper, and I quickly reach down to stop her.
“Not yet,” I tell her with barely controlled lust tainting
my voice.
Her gasp of surprise sends shivers down my spine as I kiss
the hollow her neck and down. I pass over her soft mounds quickly so as not to
get caught up there and lose control. As I’m moving down, I slide the scrap of
cloth hiding her from me down her legs.
It’s everything I remember and new to me all at the same
time. This feels right. It feels like a claiming that should have happened a
long time ago, rather than me letting her go. As I feel her muscles clenching
and her hands tangle in my hair, I ramp up my pace.
Just as she lets out a guttural noise that cannot be
mistaken for anything but the sound of a woman’s orgasm, I pull away and slide
up her body until the hard length of me, still within the confines of my jeans,
is pressed against her. Melanie’s lips seek mine out, and I let her take them
until I’m sure I’m going to pass out from lack of breathing. During that time,
she’s distracted me enough to get my pants down.
“Melanie,” I try to reason with her as her hand slides up my
length, and her fingers tickle my tip. “Jesus,” I gasp out as she teases me.
“No, my name is Melanie.” I hear the giggle in her tone and
push against her warmth until all manner of amusement is gone.
“Just say yes.” I plead with her and let my tongue slide out
to tease her earlobe. My hands roam over her flat stomach until my fingers find
her taught nipples and roll them around. I barely hear her answer mingled with
her gasp, but it’s enough for me. It has to be enough, or I’m going to
embarrass myself.
Her hands slide away as I push into her to the hilt, and
buck against her once to put her in her place. She makes an appreciative noise,
and I relish in the fact that she enjoys being dominated. The way her hands
race up my back to pull my lips down her hard pebbles almost has me losing
control.
I only move once before she’s almost yelling my name over
and over again like a mantra. Words elude me as I pick up the pace to match the
way she pulses around me. I lose count of how many times her body becomes rigid
and then soft to my touch. All I can think about is the way she feels
underneath of me, and the most frightening thought of all. I don’t want to
leave.
I want to stay in this spot forever with her and listen to
her make noises that I want to hear from only
her
. If this isn’t a
claiming, I don’t know what is. My voice clogs with a feral noise as I try to
hold back, but her fingers dig into my upper shoulders. The shock of pain makes
me lose my concentration, and I spill into her uncontrollably.
Prodding fingers dance along my sides until I lift myself up
onto my elbows and look down at her flushed face. She has a smile for me that
could light the entire earth forever. Our breaths mingle as I try to catch
mine, and she wriggles against the length of me still buried inside of her.
“I think you’re supposed to pull out now.” She whispers to
me with a chuckle, and I oblige, slowly. She clenches around me, and by the
look on her face, it’s uncontrollable.
“Do you want me to show you one of my shower tricks?” I try
to sound nonchalant, but I’m begging her with my eyes to say yes.
All I get in return is a kiss that wipes any doubts away
that she doesn’t want to explore the shower with me.
Our marathon lasts until we’re back on the bed, breathless
and exhausted. I idly wonder if she’s just making up for lost time, or if she’s
like this every time she has sex. Either way, I’m having the time of my life. A
doctor might tell me to take a breather due to my heart galloping away, but I
want to roll over and cover her with my body again.
Unfortunately, her deep breathing alerts me to the fact that
she’s sleeping. I put my arms behind my head and close my eyes, seeing flashes
of her face from our shower tryst. Then I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
What wakes me is the sound of the front door closing. The
first thought to pop into my mind is that Melanie has left again before I could
fully wake up, but I can feel her warmth plastered against my side. When my
foggy brain registers that it’s either Brent or Christina home from work, I sit
up and fumble for my pants.
Melanie grumbles and rolls over, so I toss a blanket over
her so she doesn’t lose what’s left of her dignity. Then I try to comb through
my hair with my fingers and pull a shirt over my torso. I’m not sure how her
brother in law or sister will take our sleeping together, but I don’t want them
to find out by walking in on us both naked.
The blanket must have woken her, and as she sits up with a
stretch, I put a finger over my lips. It doesn’t take her nearly as long as it
took me to figure out that someone must be home. She scrambles for her clothes
and looks bashfully at me.
“Let’s keep this quiet until I’m sure what
this
is.”
That sounds ominous to my ears, but I agree with her.
The walk of shame from a hotel room is a lot easier than the
walk of shame from my sister’s guest room to my own room. Thankfully, she’s
downstairs and hasn’t heard me yet. I tiptoe to my room, pull my hair into a
neat ponytail, and fix my makeup so that I look as pristine as I did when she
left. Then I look at the love bite just below my navel and chuckle nervously.
I’m glad it’s not bathing suit season.
I met what I said to Alex.
What we did this morning and into the afternoon was mind
blowing. It was like how losing my virginity
should
have been. I’m just
glad I can file those naughty thoughts away for later rather than trying to
muddle through jumbled memories like last time.
To make sure I’m covered in case there are any other love
bites I don’t know about, I pull on a sweatshirt. When I tiptoe out of my room,
I can hear Alex downstairs talking with someone. Aphrodite gives me an
indignant look before she bounces down the hall to collaborate with Shortbread.
My footsteps are unsure as I head down the hall and try to
listen for the person that Alex is currently involving in conversation. When
her voice hits my ears, my skin grows cold, and my heart stops in my chest. I suck
in a long breath and push my fist to my chest to get the tightness to ease.
“I think she might be getting out of the shower.” I hear
Alex making an excuse for me and think about running back to my room to turn on
the hot water in the bathroom until my mother leaves.
“Why would she be showering right now?” I can almost see his
mouth gaping open and closing as he searches for something to say to that. Then
I decide to save him from her wrath and make some noise as I tromp down the
stairs.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” One glance at her face tells
me
exactly
what she’s doing here. She’s going to make a scene, and I
don’t want Alex to be around for it. I glance in his direction and see him
calmly sitting at the breakfast bar with his cellphone in front of him. The
only give away that he’s listening to this entire conversation is the fact that
the screen of his cellphone is black.
“Why don’t we talk in the living room?” Her nervous glance
towards the man sitting in her daughter’s home has my proverbial hackles
rising. Why wouldn’t she like Alex?
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Your father is waiting
outside. You could grab your things and come back with us.” There is a reason I
didn’t seek out my parents immediately. My mother is demanding, controlling,
and she’d do anything to see me married tomorrow. I pity my father because the
poor man goes along with everything that she does without question. I love them
both, but they have their flaws.
“I’m not going home with you, Mom.” I might as well get that
one out of the way immediately. Before Alex can watch her explosion, I lead her
into the living room and sit down in a comfortable, leather chair. She sits on
the love seat opposite me with her hands clasped together nervously. She’s
pale, and it’s obvious that the media frenzy has gotten to her.
“You left without and explanation! Oliver was so worried
about you, sweetie.” I can see the denial in her eyes as she thins her lips.
“Now, I understand that some women get cold feet before a wedding. Lord knows I
almost ran out on your father seconds before I walked down that aisle!” Her
nervous chuckle does nothing to soothe me.
“I didn’t get cold feet, Mom.” I feel sick inside that I
have to tell her I’ve been dating a man who has absolutely no romantic feelings
for me for the past year.
“Now, I saw those pictures on the news, but they’re photoshopped!
Oliver has been denying them since the moment the media got a hold of this
disaster. He
loves
you Melanie!” She reaches across the distance
separating us and my teeth crunch together as I try to keep in the tears.
“He doesn’t love me, Mother.” Using the formal title seems
to be a slap in her face. I’ve never called her Mother during a time like this.
“I don’t know if he loves anyone, but that’s of no concern to me.” Her eyes
narrow as she contemplates something else to say that will change my mind.
I understand that she wants me to marry someone well-off
who will take care of my needs, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a
grown woman, and I don’t need a man. I don’t need someone to buy me flashy
clothes and cars. I can do that on my own if it’s what I really want.
“Is this about that man? The one you married in Vegas?” The
shocked look on my face is probably hilarious if this were any other situation.
I feel my mouth go dry, and it feels as if my tongue has swollen, leaving me
unable to respond. My mother responds for me.
“You know, I had a tryst before I married your father.” She
tells me in a hushed tone. Her confession knocks me out of my temporary
paralysis, and I hold up my hands as if that will stop her words from entering
my ears.
“I don’t want to hear about that!” I whisper to her so that
Alex cannot hear. If I want him to be my friends, he needs to think my family
is somewhat normal.
“He was a dark man with the muscles of a weathered sailor.”
She continues, oblivious to my objections. I want to plug my fingers into my
ears like I’m five again and hum a tune until she stops talking. Instead, I
think about the lines I had to memorize, when I was six, for a play in school. It’s
a less intrusive way of not listening to a word she says until her mouth has
stopped moving.
“My point is,” she continues. “I understand that the public
has blown this out of proportion and lied. Oliver has confronted me and your
father about the marriage and wanted us to tell you that he still wants to
marry you. He understands that sometimes those vultures get a hold of
information that is inaccurate, and he told us you didn’t give him time to
explain.” My teeth are grinding together again. I’m going to need to see a
dentist after this.
“Mother!” I almost have to shout at her to get her eyes to
finally focus on me. It’s like she’s in a different dimension and she’s
speaking with a doll, not a human being. When I’m sure that she’s fully
comprehending the words coming from my mouth, I tell her again. “I’m not going
to marry Oliver Stanton, and it’s not about Alexander Pope! It’s about
me
!
I don’t love him
!” I drag out the last sentence to get my point across,
and we’re both left sitting in a silence that envelope us as if it were in a
dark, cloudy storm.
The tension in the room grows so thick I can barely breathe
when Alex sidles through the doorway. He glances up at us from his cellphone,
and I can see that it’s actually turned on this time. Apparently he doesn’t
realize what we’re talking about because he would stay away if he did. My
mother turns to him with her lips parted gently, and I see a strand of her
blonde hair swaying as she does.
“You.” She hisses the word at him and her fingers grip the
edge of the love seat she’s sitting upon. I see the rage building up and
understand that she’s going to explode soon. My mother likes to put the blame
on other people as much as she can without pointing a finger at her own family.
Mistakes are never made by her children but by others.
“Yeah, me.” I realize that Alex didn’t walk in her by
accident, and I have to give him props for having the gonads to confront her.
“Melanie,” I hold up my hands in front of me again and
stand. I can hear a car pulling up, and I can only assume that it’s my sister
or her husband. This is not the time and place for this discussion. It’s not my
house, and I sure as hell did not mean to bring strife with me when I accepted
Christina’s offer.
“We’ll talk about this later, Mom.” My jaw aches and I feel
worn out from our brief chat. I’d much rather talk to my father. He’d be a lot
more understanding than my mother, but I have a feeling that’s why she left him
in the car.
“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Ingles.” I watch Alex calmly
climb the stairs to the second level and disappear around the corner. My mother
looks livid at his easy, dismissive manner towards her, and I’m not sure if I’m
feeling awe right now or my heart has finally failed me. None of my suitors has
ever
stood up for himself or me in front of my mother.
“Melanie,” She starts in again, and I feel my patience for
her waning. I have much larger issues to worry about. How did she know
Alexander Pope was the name of the man whom I married in Vegas? And what is
Oliver doing denying his status to my parents?
Part of me wonders if he wasn’t lying to me, but that tiny
voice in the back of my mind is muted by the warning bells going off. Oliver is
about to do something that will potentially brand me forever. Is that why the
details of my life are being analyzed? I was wrong. I have so much more to
worry about than just starting my life over. The past has to be cleaned up
first.
It was nice, running out here for a few days to hide. But
adults cannot hide from their problems, and mine seem to be growing out of
control in my absence.
“Look, the wedding will never happen, not with Oliver. I
think you and Dad should go home and focus on yourselves and your business. I’m
sorry if this causes any backlash for you.” Recognizing that she’s being
dismissed by me, my mother stands up with a strange expression on her face.
If I had to describe it, it would be between hurt and
disappointment.
“I’m sorry.” I tell her, and I mean it. I didn’t mean for my
breakup to become public and interfere with my family’s life. I also didn’t
mean to disappoint my parents. Perhaps I should have stayed in New York and
dealt with it rather than running, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.
“You know where to find me when you’re ready to talk.” She
grips her purse between both her hands and I walk her to the door. As soon as
the hinge creaks and we’re exposed to the bright light of Nevada, the cameras
begin to snap. I was mistaken. It was not my sister or brother in law pulling
up to their home. The sound had been the camera crews pulling up in their vans.
My first thought is to slam the door, but my father is
sitting in his car with a livid expression on his face. I walk my mother to her
car, tell her goodbye, and retreat up the steps. Unfortunately, I turn at the
last second, and I’m sure they get a great shot of me in my sweatshirt and
loose jeans. It’s not a flattering look.
“This is private property!” I use the only thing that comes
to mind in an attempt to get them to disappear. At the last second, I hear
Alexander walking down the stairs and slip through the door before he can show
his face. I can only imagine the fifteen minutes of fame we’ll experience if
the media has a picture of me with my ex-husband, in my sister’s house.
“I didn’t realize I was sleeping with someone famous.”
“How can you joke in a situation like this?” I feel like
pulling my hair out of my scalp. “This is my
sister’s
house!”
“Relax, it’ll be alright. They’ve got their pictures. Now they’ll
run off to their cubicles and doctor them up to be released. Who cares?”
Unbelievable.
“I care!” I fumble for a reason to care and pull out the
baggy sweatshirt I’m wearing with my fingertips. “Look at what I’m wearing!”
Tears start to fill my eyes when I see there’s a rip by the zipper.
“Melanie, it’ll be alright.” He repeats himself and seems to
understand that I’m honestly upset about the pictures.
“What were you reading on your cellphone?” I try to change
the subject and make sure that the curtains are pulled shut.
“Just the news.” He seems hesitant, and I feel something
twist inside of me. It’s clawing to get out of me, and it’s not until I’m
holding my middle with my arms that I realize I’m panicking.
“What news?” Of course, that’s how my mother found out about
Vegas. Marriage certificates are public record.
“Listen, I think you should take a few minutes to relax.” He
sounds as though he’s talking to a beaten dog, and I feel my patience snap.
Taking out my own phone, I begin to thumb through my apps until I find one for
the news. Then I hesitate with the pad of my thumb very close to the screen.
I know what I’m going to see is going to upset me, and it’s
going to change my life. “It’s changed my life already.” I mumble.
“What?” I distantly hear Alex ask before I open the
application. The first story on the screen is a headline that reads ‘Stanton
Son Gay?’
I click on it and read about Oliver denying his relationship
with Kyle, and somehow I feel vindication and sorrow at the same time. I’m sorry
that Oliver has to go through this along with Kyle, but I also feel a little
prick of glee that they’re being publically humiliated like me. Part of me
wonders if I’m a vicious bitch, and then I scroll down to the second headline.
There’s a picture of me wearing the black pants I shimmied
on the morning I woke up with Alex for the first time. I’m wearing the sheer,
dark blue top and my hair is done up like I’m a bride. It’s obvious by the
sloppy smile on my face that I’m wasted, and Alex is obviously flying as high
as a kite. It looks as if he had an awful time trying to get the ring on my
finger.
Underneath that picture is an article about my quick, Vegas
wedding with Alexander Pope. Then there are more painful pictures of me
laughing with my head thrown back at something silly either the pasture or Alex
said. The final photograph is one of us kissing, and I study that one for a
long time. His hand is cupped behind my neck with his fingers digging into my
hair. My body is plastered to his, and his other hand is resting on the small
of my back to draw me closer.
If I were wearing an actual wedding dress and he a tux, it
would the epitome of a madly in love couple getting married.
My fingers feel numb as I stare at that picture, seeing it
and not seeing it. I remember the way his mouth felt on mine, and the way his
tongue had parted my lips. I remember meeting him at the bar and telling him my
sorrows about my sister getting married. We both drank more than enough to kill
the average person, and I’m sure he scored off someone on the dance floor.