Page 22 of Anchor

Every other time, he’s left as soon as we’ve finished, and the bitch of the situation, I slept better than I have in years….

God, what did I do?

It’s not like we did it just the once against the door; no, instead, after he came, he carried me to my room, ate me out like he was starving, then made love to me so good it made me want to cry, before waking me up twice with him inside me. I am one hundred percent happy I checked my birth control pills yesterday morning to ensure he hasn’t messed with them again.

“Fuck, sex hasn’t felt like this in months.”

Yet again, his words swim around in my head, and I flinch involuntarily as I picture him thrusting into her from behind, a look of pleasure on his face.

Even ten years later, I still can’t get over it.

Mom is right, he took pleasure from someone else all because I didn’t want to spend our first wedding anniversary watching a bunch of drunk men screwing, a few months after giving birth, and I can’t forget about it; divorce is the way it needs to go as far as I’m concerned. I won’t be like my mother, I refuse.

“Please get out of your head, Angel,” Travis whispers against my neck before pressing a kiss against my skin, sending tingles down my spine.

I ignore the feeling and try to pull away now that he’s awake, the look of his pleasure drowning me, but his arm tightens, and he begs, “Please, Heaven, don’t.”

My tears form, and before I can blink to stop them, they fall anyway, and I sob, “How can I not when your words ring out every time this happens?”

I feel him nip my skin before he moves his arm, and I move to get up, needing space from him, but Travis has other ideas. He turns me onto my back, making me gasp, then climbs on top of me, ensuring his hips are between my legs, his member pressing in at my entrance before he thrusts, filling me.

He lies flat on my body, ensuring our skin touches before he frames my head. His hand goes into my hair and grips it.

He ensures we make eye contact, his full of regret, pain, and guilt, and he says, “I was drunk Heaven, and no, it’s not anexcuse. I was pissed; I drank way too much and made a decision I wish every day I could take back, especially because I know that it has cost me you, it cost me ten years of us, but Angel, haven’t I proven to you over the years that you are all I want?”

I don’t say anything because, in a way, he has. He’s here more than he is at the club. If they have a run, he’ll only go on one once a month, letting me know two weeks in advance. Micha has practice or a football game, even if I’m there, so is he. Most mornings, when I return from work, he has breakfast made as well as a bubble bath drawn.

He’s ensured that I can’t fall out of love with him, though, to be honest, if I didn’t when he cheated, I doubt I ever would…

Travis kisses my nose when he sees I won’t answer him before he places his forehead against mine and whispers, “What about couples therapy to get everything out in the open?” My mouth parts in shock, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss me lightly, then continue, “Please, Angel, try, and if you still can’t get over it, if my stupid drunken words, my horrible mistake, still echo in your mind, then, fuck….” He breathes heavily and then promises, “I’ll sign the papers; just please, Angel, give me a chance to prove to you that I'll never hurt you again.”

My eyes widen in shock at the truth that his words hold, but before I can deny or confirm what he wants—something I don’t know is even worth it when the inevitable is going to happen—our son shouts, “Hey, Mom, is Dad here?” and I swallow hard.

Travis’s eyes race between mine, and whatever he sees causes him to nod, kiss me again, and whisper, “I’ll go make him breakfast. Please, just think about it….”

I swallow hard as he kisses my nose, then removes his member from inside of me, making me feel empty. He climbs off me, covers me with the blanket, before he grabs his jeans, puts them on, and walks out of my room.

“Dad!” I hear Micha shout excitedly, and my tears fall.

In a perfect world, Micha would get his wish, a wish he has asked for since he was small–his parents back together again. But if I couldn’t overcome what he did in ten years, how does he expect me to now?

It wasn’t just some random girl at a bar, it was my high school bully who is now a clubwhore at the club she joined specifically to sleep with him. He sees her daily, and I’m reminded of how they interact whenever I see her.

I mean, it was only last week that Ginger bumped into me on purpose when I walked out of a coffee shop, spilling my hot drink all over me and laughing.

Her exact words were,“Now I know why he chooses me over you every day.”

I shake my head, throw the sheets off me, and stand with a wince. I’m sore but deliciously so, which, of course, makes me huff.

Things would be so much easier if he weren’t everything to me, but he is, and I’m broken without him, yet I can’t move on from what he did….

“He’ll cheat over and over, just you watch Heaven; he’s a man, it’s what men do, you’ve seen this yourself with me. Don’t make my mistakes—cut the cheater off and find someone who can look after you!”

Mom’s words filter in my head yet again, and my tears want to fall. Every time I feel ready to consider talking to Travis about everything, Mom’s voice swims in my head, popping up like an unwanted daisy, and I shrivel back into myself again.

Sniffling, I walk to the bathroom and turn the shower on, hoping the hot water will de-clog my mind.

When I’m sure it’s hot enough, I climb in, put my head straight under the water, and lift my face, closing my eyes, allowing the heat to soothe me, needing it to.

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