Page 15 of Monsters of Midlife

“You didn’t leave anything,” I said. He had in fact left a big black hole where he had been in my life, a big empty cavernous pit that threatened to swallow me whole in its inky darkness.

His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed, traveling down my face to my décolletage. I hated the way my skin heated up under his gaze. If he could see my temperature, he would know how breathless his proximity made me. He was unrelenting in his gaze. I was about to tell him to back off; tell him to close his eyes, turn around, and get the hell out of my house. I certainly didn’t need to be teased with the presence of my sexy ex-husband. I didn’t need him anywhere in my life.

He stepped closer to me, as if he was stalking his prey on the savanna. A black panther out for the kill. The only problem was, I was his prey. My heart beat faster, pressing my chest against my shirt. He took another step closer. I wanted to take a step back, but I also didn’t want to show any fear. I wanted to be brave and strong and true. This was my house.

My body though, my body wanted him to be closer to me, to be within touching distance, within kissing distance. I wanted to feel him again against my skin.

My breath caught in my throat. I held it there as he stepped the final step, closing the gap between us, his head tilting to the side as his gaze riveted on my chest. I glanced down and suddenly I realized it wasn’t the modest sweater that had gotten him so bothered. My hand flung up, catching the piece of jewelry dangling from my necklace in a fist.

“Your ring,” I murmured.

His hand went around me taking the small of my back pressing me towards him as he lowered his face to my neck, his lips brushing my skin causing a tingling sensation to spread throughout my body.

Oh God, he still had the ability to claim me.

I was his and I hated that he knew it.

I felt his teeth bare against my neck and I gasped as they nibbled at my skin, his hand held my neck steady and suddenly he jerked his head back and broke the chain around my neck, my necklace and wedding ring falling into his open hand.

“I need this,” he said, holding the ring up in the palm of his hand.

I frowned. We were divorced but the ring was mine. “You gave it to me.”

“I made a mistake,” he said.

I hated how his words forced a sword of pain through my stomach and up to my heart. Those were the words he’d used to describe our marriage: it was a mistake. When I’d filed the divorce papers, I had expected more from him, some sort of an argument, a fight, a fuss, but he hadn’t done anything. He’d just said, “You’re probably right. It was a mistake to think it would work.” With those few words, he had destroyed all of the hopes and dreams I’d had when I’d met him. When we had gotten married, it had all gone to shit. He had just become the absent husband.

“Is there anything else you want while you’re here?” I asked him tightly. “I would prefer if you took it all now and don’t come back rather than just coming popping in once every three or four years.”

“That’s all I needed,” he grumbled.

“Good,” I said, taking a deep breath and walking toward the door, my skin still trembling from the close encounter with his teeth and lips. Why did he have to take the ring like that? He could’ve just asked me for it. I would’ve given it to him.

No.

He was always testing my boundaries; it was his favorite thing to do with me: taunt me. I had become his plaything, even though he didn’t play with me very much. I walked resolutely toward the door holding it open. “Now that you have what you want, you can go.”

He looked at me, sucking in his lower lip for a moment before letting out a long, slow breath.

“Are you well?” he asked.

His question caught me off guard, charming in its sweetness and simplicity. “I’m okay,” I said. No, I wasn’t. Not after feeling like he just undressed me with a single question. “Please, go.” There was a slight pleading tone in my voice that he seemed take pity on. He nodded moving past me.

He walked across the porch before stopping at the top of the stairs and looking back over his shoulder, he fixed me with a stern gaze. “There’s more to all this,” he said. “Just be careful. Don’t assume everything’s safe.”

My gut tightened at his words. There had always been something dark and dangerous about him, but I wasn’t sure what this could mean.

“Are you in danger?” I asked. I didn’t want to fall for his lies or half-truths, but I also still cared about him and there was no reason why I shouldn’t be there to help a friend.

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “I meant in relation to you. Just be careful and call me if you see anything weird.”

“Call you?” I asked, quite surprised. “Are you staying in Boston?”

“No,” he said. “But I’m available if you need me.”

I watched him walk away, knowing this was trouble.

Chapter 11

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