Torrid Affair (18 page)

“He's the only one who can help Julian,” I said weakly.  

“What the fuck is there to help, Brielle?”

“Yve, please. He's my husband.”

“I know. I know. He was there for you when your world was falling apart, blah, blah, blah. But, Brie, how many times do we have to go over this? That was
ten
years ago. You don’t owe him shit. Well, technically, you owe him a kick in the balls.”

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Nate walking toward me. Alone. “Listen, Yve, I have to go.”

“Okay, call me when you can, and please try not to fall for Satan's words. He chose her.” Never had Yve said anything more accurate. Nate had chosen Del.

“Thanks for the reminder.” I rushed to get the words out before hitting the power button.

Nate came near in long strides. The conversation we were about to have had been ten years in the making.

I
was dumbfounded
.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Brielle would knock on my door asking for help.

I had so many things to say to her. I needed to apologize, explain myself, yet my words were lost. Beauty radiated from the woman in front of me, and I desperately wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her.

But I wasn’t twenty-one.

And her last words to me were Fuck. You.

I was certain she hated me more than she ever loved me, for I left her when she desperately needed me. I knew the man her father was, and she had to face him alone. I gripped the steering wheel firmly and let my mind drift.

“
A
ll right
, your time is up,” Professor Johnson stated. I shoved my pencil in my book bag and dashed out of my seat. I had a plane to catch. Handing my calculus final in, I left the room and headed straight home. Stu had offered to give me a ride to the airport.

When I pulled in the driveway I spotted Delaney sitting on the front steps. Her head was buried in her knees.

“Delaney?” I said as I approached her. When she lifted her head I noticed her face was covered with tears. “What’s the matter?” I rushed to her side. My mind instantly thought of Brielle.

“Can . . . can . . . we talk?” she muttered.

“Of course.” I gave her my hand and ushered her into the house. “What’s up?”

Her eyes swelled with unshed tears. “I’m pregnant.” She huffed.

My body went cold with fear.

Delaney pulled out a positive pregnancy test stick and handed it to me.

I shook my head in shock. “We . . . I . . . I couldn’t remember much of the night we spent together. “That was four weeks ago. Are you sure?”

“I’m late, Nate, I’m never late.” She sat back on the couch and cried. “What am I going to do?”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t need to check the text message to know it was Brielle.

With a heavy heart I walked over to Delaney and kneeled in front of her. My future had been chosen for me. I wouldn’t be going to Chicago. I’d be a man and accept the consequences of my actions. “You don’t have to do this alone.” I took Delaney’s hand in mine. “I’ll be here throughout it all.”

“Yeah?” She looked up at me.

“We’ll figure it out.”

I
couldn’t turn away
from my responsibilities, even if it meant going back on my word to Brielle. I had fathered a child and I refused to abandon a helpless infant the way my parents had. So I sent Julian after her. He loved her almost as much as I did. I hoped he’d bring her back once everything was better. I never expected her to marry him. And every time I sent her an email, it went unanswered.

I craved her touch, her laughter. Being around her made my life better.

Delaney had ushered her into the living room and then asked me to keep Caleb occupied while they talked. But I wanted to be the one to talk to her. She looked tired when I first saw her, and the spark in her eyes had dimmed.

Caleb bounced the basketball up and down the driveway as I watched him, but my mind was elsewhere.
What the hell had my brother gotten into?

“Dad, that was a three point shot, right?”

I nodded and pulled out my cell phone. If Delaney wanted to talk to Brielle first, I needed to talk to Julian.

“Hello?” he answered. He sounded agitated, and I knew why he was angry.

“She’s here,” I assured him.

“What?”

“Your wife.” I shook my head slowly, hating that small fact. “She arrived here a little while ago. You want to tell me what going on, little brother?”

“She’s okay? She’s there?” I heard his voice break and I knew he was crying.
What had happened between these two?

“Julian, what the hell is going on?”

“It’s all my fault. Last night I was drunk, and I did things I will regret for the rest of my life.” He cleared his throat. “She was in bed this morning when I left, and when I got back from work her clothes were gone. She didn’t call, didn’t leave a note.”

“What did you two fight about?”

“I don’t remember, bro. She painted a wall red and then accused me of cheating.”

I exhaled. “Did you cheat?”

“I don’t ask you about your fucking marriage. Why are you so concerned about mine?” The temper Julian had as a child had returned.

“I ask because your wife drove twelve hours to tell me you need help.”

“Fuck! I can’t lose her, Moose.”

Holding the phone to my ear, I bowed my head. “Get your shit packed, sober the fuck up, and get on a plane tomorrow morning.”

“I need to see her now,” Julian barked.

“I doubt that the girl who drove twelve hours to knock on my door and ask for help is ready to forgive you. She’s talking to Del now. I’ll make sure she’s safe. Let her calm down, sleep it off, and tomorrow you two can talk.”

Julian was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. Moose. Tell her I love her.”

“Will do.” I sighed and hung up the phone.

Glancing back at the house I noticed Delaney in the kitchen window. “Where is she?” I mouthed to her. Del raised her hand like a telephone and brought it close to her ear. I nodded. “Caleb?” I turned back to the basketball hoop. “Dinner’s almost ready, so wash up and help your mother set the table.”

Caleb bounced the basketball in my direction. “Is Aunt Brielle staying for dinner?”

“Yes. Now go before your mother comes looking for you.”

Caleb ran across the deck and into the house. I put the basketball away and went to search for Brielle. I didn’t know what to say to her, or if she even wanted to talk to me, but there was no other way.

When my mother gave us this home, I first refused it. It didn’t seem right that I inherit it. My entire life I was the foster kid no one wanted. Louisa was the only one who took me in. She had done enough for me; giving me a house free of charge was too much. She and Warren had decided to fellowship with the church and would be living in Ecuador. I offered to buy it from them for the market price but Louisa wouldn’t accept it. We ended up agreeing that I would buy it for the same price they purchased it for.

Once they left, I began to work on it, customizing it to suit my wife’s desires. The house was perfect for me, but Delaney insisted on a new kitchen, updated bathrooms, and new hardwood floors.

I’d walked into the hardware store, clueless. I had a list of things I wanted to do and no idea how to accomplish any of it. I asked an employee for help, and soon realized the projects Delaney wanted would cost thousands of dollars. I didn’t know what to say to my wife, so I sat on the Adirondack chair the store had for sale and contemplated it. That chair was the first thing I bought for the house. Every Sunday afternoon, I’d crack open a beer, sit on the chair, and think of Brielle.

As I rounded the corner of the house, there she was sitting on the chair and talking on the phone. She noticed me approaching and slid the phone into her back pocket. She straightened, her hands crossed at her thighs. Clearing my throat, I sat next to her. The wind blew in my direction and her scent flew my way. I’d missed her.

“How are things?” I said after an awkward silence lingered between us.

“You don’t have to do this.” Her gaze was glued to the grass.

“Do what?”

“Make pretend you care.” She snapped her head in my direction. She tried to keep her composure, but there was hurt in her eyes. Years of pain and suffering. “I’m here for Julian. I only need your help with him. There’s no need for you to ask how I’m doing.” She hated me, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

“I spoke to Julian.” Her tensed shoulders dropped. “He’ll be here tomorrow morning.” Brielle pursed her lips, lowered her eyes and looked away. Her body shook slowly and I knew she was crying. “Brie…”

Shaking her head, she wiped the tears from under her eyes. “I’m fine.”

I wondered how many times she had lied to herself with those words. “Talk to me.” I rested my elbows on my knees.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You drove all the way here and there’s nothing you want to say?”

“I’ve told Delaney everything that’s going on with Julian. She’ll fill you in.”

“I’m your friend, too. You can talk to me.”

Her head snapped in my direction. “Friend? It hurts to even look at you, Nate. We will never be friends. I must’ve been out of my mind thinking it was smart to come here and ask you for help.” She sighed. “All I need is for you to help Julian, get him on the right track, and make him quit working for Dennis. That’s it.”

I nodded. I deserved that.

Caleb came running through the front door and in our direction. “Mom said dinner’s ready.” Brielle stood and walked toward Caleb. “Aunt Brielle, can I sit next to you?” His eyes were wide when he looked up at her. Brielle nodded and then placed her arm around his shoulders.

It pained me to see them together. It was a sight that had burned in my mind years ago when I desperately wanted her to be the mother of my children.

A
fter dinner
, Caleb retrieved my suitcase from of my car and carried it up the stairs to the garage apartment. He was a bright and charming young boy. Throughout dinner, I grew fonder of him with each passing second. He seemed eager to know everything about me, and unlike other nine-year-old boys who only wanted to watch TV or play video games, Caleb wanted to show me where I’d be staying.

Opening the door, he turned on the light and smiled. “Welcome to your new home.” He waved his hand as he showcased the one-bedroom apartment. It was small, with only one entrance that led into the kitchen and no wall between that space and the living room.

Delaney walked me through the fully furnished apartment. She pointed out the linen closet and assured me the towels were fresh. Her voice faded when my gaze landed on the one blood red wall in the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks, unable to look away.

“Yeah, sorry about the obvious red,” Delaney said. “It was the first thing Nate painted.” She turned away from me and looked back at him. “You were so adamant about this stupid red wall.”

“It’s important to me,” he said from the kitchen in a husky voice.

Inhaling slowly, I reminded myself that one red wall didn’t mean shit.
He still chose her.

“Well, if you need anything, call.” Delaney walked over to me and gave me a hug.

“Can I sleep with Aunt B?” Caleb jumped in place.

“No.” Delaney shook her head. “You have school first thing in the morning, and your Aunt Brie needs to rest.”

I thanked Delaney again as I closed the door behind them. Strolling back to the couch, I sat back and stared at the red wall.

Just like we had painted in my dorm room on Christmas Eve . . .

Just like I had painted in my home the night before.

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “What the hell are you doing, Brielle?” When I couldn’t answer my own question, I stood and decided I desperately needed a shower.

Delaney kept the apartment ready for guests at all times. I dug through my bag until I found my pajamas and toiletries. To my surprise, the bathroom was stocked with soap, shampoo and conditioner. The medicine cabinet even had new toothbrushes.

I showered until the water turned cool, washing the dirt and travel stench off my body, then sat on the floor of the tub until my skin wrinkled. After I felt clean and had changed, I walked aimlessly around the apartment, familiarizing myself with their previous love nest. I left my duffle bag in the living room and planned sleep on the couch. It felt odd sleeping in a bed they shared as husband and wife, but the couch idea was a bust when I realized how uncomfortable it was. I needed to let go of my insecurities and face my fears head on. Ten years had passed. We had all grown up. Standing tall, I grabbed my duffle bag, marched into the bedroom, and turned the light on. A full size bed was in the center with a small night stand. I placed my bag on the dresser near the window that looked out onto their home. They had no window on the second level but one on the first. My gaze trailed down the siding of the house to the lighted opening. I gasped when I realized Nate was looking back at me. He sat on an office chair, his green eyes locked on mine, and he flashed me a smile.

I don’t know how long I stood there looking at him. He had broken me and now he was trying to save my marriage. I loved him. There was no denying that.

I watched as he brought his cellphone to his ear and jumped when the phone on the side of the bed began to ring. I looked at the phone and then over at him. He held up his phone, letting me know it was him calling. Picking it up, I didn’t say anything. I could hear him breathing on the other side. Like a fly attracted to the light, I walked over to the window, phone glued to my ear. Nate smiled when he spotted me.

“Hi,” he whispered. My stomach dropped. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Yes.”

Nate’s tongue ran across his lips. “I’m sorry. I should’ve gone to Chica—”

“Don’t.” I shook my head. “What good is an apology ten years too late?”

He huffed. “Tell me what I can do to make you forgive me.”

“You don’t want my forgiveness, Nate.”

“I do.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You want the guilt to stop, but I can’t help you with that. You made your bed—now lie in it. You want to help? Help Julian. The quicker you do that, the quicker I can get out of here and go home.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, hung up, and walked away from the window. Turning off the light, I crawled into bed.

Sleep.

I desperately needed sleep.

* * *

I
woke
up the following morning to a soft tap on the door. Disoriented, I shoved off the mattress as I blurrily scanned the room and my brain registered where I was. Wiping the drool from the side of my face, I stumbled to the door and was greeted by Nate. The scruff around his face had been shaved clean, and his fitted suit hugged his body.

“Morning. Brought you this.” He handed me a travel mug. The aroma of rich coffee was exactly what I needed to pull me out of my sleepy haze. “I forgot that we didn't stock the kitchen.”

Nervously, I gripped the cup and crossed my arms over my braless chest. “Thanks.”

“Delaney took Caleb to school and then she's off to work. I have a meeting, but as soon as it's done, I'll be back.”

“I don't need a babysitter.”

“I’m not babysitting you. Julian will be here soon, and I told him I’d pick him up from the airport.” Nate dropped his tone and stepped closer, his eyes landing on my cheek. “How did you hurt yourself?” His thumb grazed my chin and I winced at his touch.

“It's nothing.” I jerked way. It usually took two days for a slapped cheek to bruise; a backhand was a few hours to a day depending on the force, and I had cause to know a ruptured eardrum took roughly two months to heal. “I rolled off the couch.”

Nate scanned my eyes. “I'll be back in an hour or so. If you need anything—”

I raised my hand to stop him. “I have a car. I have a cell phone. I lived in Charlotte before. I'm fine, Nate. You don't need to worry about me.”

“Okay.” He smiled and walked back down the steps. I was admiring his behind in his fitted pants when he turned back to face me. “Oh, nice shirt by the way.” He winked.

I glanced down at my shirt and slammed the door shut. The sweater I slept in most nights was the same sweater I’d taken from the back seat of his truck when I’d been caught in the rain all those years ago. “Asshole,” I muttered to the wooden door.

The coffee Nate handed me was perfect. Exactly how I liked it.
He remembered.
I showered, tamed the beast that was my hair, and covered the bruise on my cheek with makeup. The dark circles under my eyes had faded, and it was the first time my hair was down since being here. When I glanced in the mirror, I looked like me.

Turning on the TV, I flipped through the channels. The news was depressing, cooking didn’t interest me, and reality TV still wasn’t worse than my own life. “Crap!” I shut the TV off and tossed the remote. I sent a text message to Yve and ask her if our boss Tony was in.

Yve: Don't worry about it, babe. I covered for you.

Me: What did you say?

Yve: That your brother-in-law died and you were at the wake.

Me: Are you insane? That's a terrible excuse.

Yve: Satan goes near you and I'll personally kill him myself.

Me: Be nice. He's being good.

Yve: OMG! YOU’RE ALREADY DEFENDING HIM???? COME HOME NOW!

Me: I'm not defending him. He's picking up Julian at the airport. We'll be home soon.

Yve: Keep me posted.

Tossing my phone where I left the remote, I decided some fresh air would do me good. I'd gone over what I planned to say to Julian once he arrived, but it still didn’t make the anticipation any easier. Would he be mad that I left? Was he willing to change his ways?

The warm outdoor air caused a bead of sweat to form on the back of my neck. Closing my eyes, I listened to the birds chirping. Life in the south was serene, not like the traffic-filled, polluted air back home. When I opened my eyes, I spotted a box of chalk tucked under the deck. The heavy clouds to the far east told me rain was on the way, so anything I doodled now would soon be washed away.

Bent over the asphalt driveway, I let the chalk slide against the blacktop. I started at the top with the clouds and the bright sun. Drawing from memory, I drew in trees, columns, and tiny windows. I was so lost in my work that I didn’t hear Nate come up behind me.

“That’s the Bissell House.”

I jumped at the sound of his voice. “What the hell?” I tossed a chalk at him. “Are you trying to scare the living crap out of me?”

Nate chuckled and walked on my artwork. “You still have your talent, I see. Drawing it from memory, too.”

“It was where it all started,” I muttered under my breath. “I wouldn’t call doodling with chalk a talent.”

“What do you do for work back home?”

“What do you do, Mister Fancy Pants?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“I’m an architect for the city.”

“That’s great.” I began to put the small tidbits of chalk back in the pail.

“And you?” He squatted near one and picked it up.

“I work at a hardware store.” Nate had been walking in my direction and stopped. “I work in the paint department. Some of the time I paint murals and stuff in people's homes, other times I restock the shelves.”

“Like a Home Depot?”

I dropped the chalk in the pail. “Yeah.” I huffed. “I assume Del has told you what Julian does for a living?” Nate nodded. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“Why a hardware store?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Of all the possible questions you could ask, that wasn’t the one I expected.” I walked over to the deck and put the pail back where I found it. “It was the only place that was hiring and would give me flexible hours. Not everyone is eager to hire a college dropout.”

“You never finished—”

“Nope,” I answered his question before he could ask it. “With my mom’s stroke, it was stupid to go back to and finish an art degree. Not many jobs out there.”

“But Julian finished.”

“Yes. It took him some time, and I helped him study, but he graduated. As did you.” I waved my hand toward his tailored suit.

“But you had a dream. Curator at the Louvre.”

“I had many dreams.”

Our eyes met. Nate opened his mouth to say something, but I stopped him.

“Sometimes dreams are just that—dreams. A small escape from reality. I learned to stop dreaming and face my life head on.”

Nate frowned. “I need to go change and pick up Julian at the airport. Do you want to come?”

I shook my head. “I’ll see my husband when he gets here.” I began to walk back toward the garage.

“Brie?” Nate called out at my back. When I turned to face him, I was greeted by a gorgeous smile. “Don’t stop dreaming. There’s still a chance it can become reality.”

He was my dream. A life with him was what I fantasized about. But it was unattainable. My dreams were a fairytale that ended with a bullshit happily ever after.