Page 39 of Returning Your Love
Who was I kidding?
I’d known shit would end up this way even though it shouldn’t.
Next Sunday night, I would give Jamie full access to my body. I would willingly and without hesitation surrender all of myself to him and do whatever he wanted. He would be my first outside marriage, the one I’d been madly in love with for half of my life.
Intentionally cheating on my wife would make me a piece of shit husband.
Guilt would rot my guts.
Shame would eat at my soul.
Did I give a shit about those three facts?
Clear into the following week, no, I did not. The chips would fall where they would whether it was a one-time hookup between me and my best friend or a continuous affair that went on for years. I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I’d longed for closeness and emotional intimacy for too long. Had been starved for true connection with the only person I’d ever truly wanted it with, and desperation became the deciding factor.
We could both keep secrets when needed.
I stared at myself in the shop’s smudged mirror while washing my hands after jerking off for the second time Wednesday morning. Feverish, bright eyes peered back at me, judgmental as fuck, but I couldn’t be bothered now that I’d finally made up my mind and Shelly was gone until next week.
Nineties grunge rock muffled through the closed bathroom door. Eddie Vedder accompanied the thoughts that had rattled around in my brain since Friday night at Frenchie’s when Jamie had propositioned me.
I’d understood and had willingly agreed. Flirted right back and made my intentions known.
Premeditated infidelity. Never would have guessed I’d gladly indulge in that particular sin, but I was done sacrificing my happiness for everyone else’s. Not like we would get caught. Shelly would be hours away down in Boston. No one would think anything funny was going on for my best friend to stop by during the middle of the day. Locks were on doors and blinds hung over windows for a reason.
Privacy.
And we would have hours of it to finally ignore everything but indulging in what we both wanted.
Needed.
“You’re a piece of shit,” I muttered since that’s what I should say, unable to look at myself any longer. I grabbed some paper towels and dried my hands before shoving out the bathroom door and into my office.
Papers and file folders littered my desk along with some outstanding invoices and other bills that had been piling up over the previous two weeks. I needed to pull out the checkbook and get shit taken care of, but my brain was a mess, and I was in a pickle.
What else was new?
Paying Dad for the loan needed to come first before the electric and combined internet and phone bill at the shop. Yeah, I had a landline. Had the same number from the previous owner so I wouldn’t lose out on returning clients. I should have sat down to address my financial responsibilities on Monday, but I’d required hard labor to keep my body busy and exhausted so I didn’t call Jamie and beg to move up our date because I was desperate for his dick.
Sitting with a pen in hand while trying to make sense of numbers hadn’t ever come easy. I’d tried Monday morning for about an hour before rolling up the shop’s two bay doors but couldn’t pay attention to what needed to get done first. Couldn’t even bring the paper in front of me into focus. As I’d often done in high school, I’d tossed my pen and strode away since there was no Jamie on hand to encourage me to keep plugging along. No kind words of wisdom, showing me different ways of getting shit to stick in my memory, speaking to my brain as though he knew exactly where mine went every time I tried to learn something new.
He’d been a lifesaver?—
“Charles Henderson!”
Fuck.
My eyelids slammed shut at my father’s voice calling over the music playing in the shop. The door to my office was open, so I wouldn’t be able to get him gone without exchanging words. Rather than slipping into the bathroom again and hiding like I’d have done at home when I was a kid, I made my feet take me forward.
Time to face the fire I should have realized would flare up in my inability to write out a check on Monday. At least he waited two days rather than the usual one to bitch about me being late.
Dad stood, hands on hips, peering at the car I had up on the lift awaiting its new catalytic converter. He’d come from work,his gray combover perfect as always, suit coat unwrinkled even though he’d been in his office all day. His perfectly knotted tie wasn’t quite tight enough in my opinion. Lips in a thin line, he oozed his usual disappointment over the vocation I’d chosen even though it fit me better than accounting ever would. Distaste intensified in his dark eyes when they landed on my smudged overalls.
I nodded a greeting, when I’d rather have told him to get the fuck out, and headed toward the second bay’s car waiting for new headlights. Grabbing what I needed from the workbench, I settled in to finish the smaller job while my father spewed the usual shit.
“Your loan payment is late.”
Of course he had to show up rather than texting me a reminder.
