Authors: Bebe Wilde
“Yeah, me and a lot of other people,” he said. “I saw the mug shot in the morning paper.”
He shook the paper and I caught a glimpse of him on the front of it. Well, what could I say?
Nothing, so I did just that and rolled my eyes.
Then I stared at him, at his handsome face, dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes. I was getting a little sick of this, to be honest. Whenever I’d try to move on, there he’d be holding me back. I ignored him and sipped my coffee, then leaned back into the counter and realized he and I couldn’t go on like we had been. He had to go. He just had to.
“And just so you’ll know,” he said. “That’s the second mug shot I got because of you.”
“Me?”
“
You,
” he said. “The first was right after our divorce was finalized.”
“You asshole,” I said. “That wasn’t my fault! You were driving drunk! You could have hurt someone!”
“Well, I never did it again!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, I was depressed.”
“You idiot,” I said, sipping my coffee.
He shrugged and stared at me, then asked, “You didn’t really sleep with that asshole, did you?”
I shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re my woman, that’s what it is to me.”
“I am
not
your woman,” I hissed. “And get out of here! Why are you even here?”
“You don’t really like him, do you?” he asked.
“No, I don’t,” I lied.
“Good,” he replied. “He’s mean. I can tell.”
“Stop saying shit like that! And get out!”
He leaned back to study me. “Seriously, you don’t really like that guy, do you?” he asked.
“Stop asking me that!” I groaned. But even though I didn’t answer his question, the answer was, yeah, I did.
A lot.
I just didn’t like the idea of trusting anyone else ever again the way I had trusted Kier. I didn’t say that, though, I just said, “He’s okay, nothing special.”
He nodded. “Don’t fuck him again.”
“Fuck you! Get out of here!”
“I’ll give you that one,” he said.
“But only that one.”
I thought about the flogger.
If he knew that…
Phew. No. He’d never know about that. It wasn’t any of his business anyway. We were divorced!
“You shouldn’t have gotten into a fight with him,” I said. “I need this listing.”
“Sorry.”
“Why did you do that?” I asked. “You started it. He was being friendly to you.”
“The guy who throws the first punch usually wins the fight,” he said. “Everyone knows that.”
“You didn’t win the fight,” I told him.
“The hell I didn’t,” he said. “Did you see his face?”
I had. It was bruised and swollen. They’d gone at it hard. In an odd way, it had turned me on, their fighting over me. But still it scared me a little too.
“He would have looked worse if those fucking cops hadn’t shown up,” he continued. “Thanks a lot for that.”
“If I hadn’t called the cops, you two might have killed each other,” I said. “I’m a small woman! I can’t break that shit up!”
He nodded in agreement. “Well, just so you’ll know, he’s a player.”
Roman was a player? The idea of such a thing threw the first stone of doubt into my head. Was he? Was he playing me? I shook my head, not allowing these thoughts to torment me. “And you’re not?” I asked.
“No, I am a cheater, I will admit that,” he said.
“But never a player.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said, not wanting to deal with him. “I have to get to work.”
He nodded and stood. “
Teagan
,” he said. “Be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
And with that, he left. I stared after him, considering his words. But there was nothing I could do at that point but surrender myself to what might happen. Of course, he had killed some of the joy of it, but then again, isn’t that was ex-husbands do best?
Over the next few months, I avoided Kier as best I could and went into the affair full throttle, loving every second of it. We played our games, we had hot, intense sex and we had fun. He prepared tasty French meals for me and I ordered pizza for him. He bought me small gifts, like the riding crop or the mask, just to spice things up even more. Sometimes we took long luxurious baths together in his gigantic soaking tub. Once we skinny dipped in my lap pool. We never went out; we always stayed in. I would have had it no other way.
But every so often, that little seedling of doubt in the back of my head grew.
This isn’t for real. It won’t last.
I tried to ignore it but it was there, coming out to taunt me from time to time. I’d never experienced anything like this before and, perhaps, I had a little guilt for having so much fun.
However, even with all this, there was still the matter of Roman’s house overshadowing everything and it had to be sold. I was there in the kitchen one morning getting it ready to show when I heard a noise behind me. I turned, expecting to see Roman, but instead saw someone I’d never laid eyes on before. It was a tall man who was vaguely familiar. Giving him a closer look as he entered the room, I realized he reminded me of Roman. He didn’t give me much time to wonder who he was, however, because he walked quickly and with purpose to me, hand extended, and said in perfectly French accented English, “I am Hubert.
Roman’s cousin.”
He pronounced it “Hugh-Bert.” I loved the French accent and smiled at him. “Oh, hello,” I said and shook his hand.
He smiled at me and nodded slightly. “You’re Janelle, right?”
“Janelle?” I asked, slightly taken aback.
“Roman’s new girlfriend,” he said. “Or, shall I say, Roman’s latest fling?”
My face burned with embarrassment. “No, actually, I’m
Teagan
.
His real estate agent.”
“Oh, yes, he is selling this place,” he said and waved his hand around the room. “But it is too expensive. Most people do not have the money for such extravagances.”
I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying as my mind was on his words, his confusion about who I was.
And who was this Janelle?
So, all I said was, “Yes, I suppose. We’ll see.”
“Good luck, though,” he said. “Perhaps the right buyer will come along. But I doubt it.”
I nodded. “Maybe,” I said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a showing in about ten minutes.”
“Of course,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,
Teagan
.”
He left and soon my potential clients showed up, a plastic surgeon and his trophy wife. I showed them around the house, pointing out its character and functionality, but they shook their heads at the end of the showing, telling me it was too much house for them but did I have another, perhaps out of the Hills?
Something more family friendly?
Maybe one in
Beverly Hills
or even Pacific Palisades?
Something a little more “toned down,” whatever that meant. I told them I would certainly look into it and sent them on their way.
I was locking up when Roman came home. He entered the kitchen where I was turning off lights and smiled at me. I didn’t smile back. I was still shaken by Hubert’s words.
“Bonjour, belle,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek, then the other one. “How did the showing go?”
“Bad,” I said and stepped away from him.
“Well, don’t beat around the bush,” he said sarcastically.
“Fine, I won’t,” I said.
“Who the fuck is Janelle?”
An eyebrow rose, then went back down instantaneously. “Janelle?”
“Janelle,” I said.
He sighed and then exhaled loudly. “Why do you ask me about Janelle now?”
“Now?”
I said. “When was I supposed to find out about her?”
“Never, perhaps?”
“Never?”
I hissed. “I don’t know what kind of fool you’re playing me for, but I can assure you, I am no fool.”
“Who is playing you for a fool?” he asked.
“God!
Roman!” I almost yelled, getting just a little infuriated. “Just tell me who she is!”
“She
was
my girlfriend,” he said. “An actress or model or whatever they call themselves. That’s who she was. I no longer see her.”
“Really?”
I asked.
He nodded. “Who told you about Janelle?
Your ex-husband, to stir trouble between us?”
“Your cousin,” I said. “Hubert?”
“Ah, Hubert,” he said. “Yes, he is in town and I should have known he would find a way to become a nuisance for me.”
“So, she isn’t your girlfriend?”
“She isn’t anymore,” he said.
“And has not been for a long time.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“Well, that is your choice,
Teagan
.” He stopped talking and leaned back against the cabinets and crossed his arms. “What is this really about?”
Me not trusting you,
I thought but didn’t say a word. It was about me feeling, even just for a few minutes, like the other woman, the one who was cheating with someone else’s man. I didn’t like that feeling, but it was there, letting me know this wouldn’t work out. I felt so
confused,
I was on the verge of panic. Everything was becoming too much for me: Roman, the house, Kier and our strange relationship. The money issues I was having. Everything was closing in on me and I was teetering on the edge.
“
Teagan
?” he said softly.
“I can’t do this,” I said and held up my hands.
“What? Sell the house?”
“That too,” I said. “No one is interested in this fucking house! But, no, I can’t do
this
, whatever this is between us.”
“Oh,” he said.
“I can’t do this,” I said again, really feeling that I couldn’t.
“He’s a trouble maker,” he said. “Hubert.
And your ex-husband, too.
People do that, they see others being happy and they cause trouble for them. Do you not see this?”
I didn’t. I didn’t understand it. Even so, I backed away. “I can’t, Roman, I can’t do this.”
“
Teagan
,” he said. “Think about what you are saying.”
What was I saying? I didn’t know. I did know I was throwing it all away with both hands. But I couldn’t help myself. “I can’t,” I said and backed away even more, heading to the door, to my car, out of here and to home. I wanted to go home so badly.
“
Teagan
, you are making a mistake.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.
“Do you want to talk about this or not?” he asked, obviously getting frustrated.
“I really don’t,” I said.
“I see,” he said and then added as an afterthought, “Well, it lasted longer than I thought.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I am not good at relationships,” he said. “Women love what they see, but the kind of man I am, not many can handle.”
“And what kind of man are you?”
“One who knows what he wants and does not compromise,” he said. “One who knows what a woman wants. Giving someone exactly what they want sometimes drives them away. I suppose you got what you wanted and now you will leave.”
“It’s not like that,” I said.
“But it is,” he said and turned to leave. “You take something insignificant and blow it up into a huge mess to have an excuse. That is fine. We were too different, like I’ve told you.”
“But it’s been fun, right?” I hissed at him.
“It
was
,” he said. “Please lock up before you leave,
Teagan
.”
Before you leave,
Teagan
…
He’s just said that to me, as if it were a done deal. Oh, God, what had I done? I started to reach out for him to tell him…something, what I didn’t know. But he had turned on his heel and was headed towards the door. Just like that, he left. He exited my life with a quiet demeanor, without yelling or too much drama. I watched him go and felt a slight shock. It was such a clean break, one with little emotion or fanfare. There weren’t any fireworks and there weren’t any tears. But I knew those would come later.
* * * * *
I knew I was an idiot, one that had been played by an asshole she had just met, Roman’s cousin, Hubert. Maybe because Roman hadn’t made too big a deal out of it, I’d gotten suspicious. He had been awfully nonchalant. When I called him out on it, he hadn’t played into the drama, telling me without saying a word that he wasn’t playing that game. In a way, he’d called my bluff. And so, now, we were done. I’d made a mistake, I knew this. And for that I felt stupid.
But it showed me how little trust I had in others. I went home, lay down in my bed and just as predicted the tears came. I knew I’d just fucked something up and I’d fucked it up because I was so afraid of loving anyone. Being hurt like I’d been hurt could do that to a person. However, I didn’t understand the psychology of it, let alone enough to try and work it out so that I might be happy. I felt bad, awful, confused. The affair was too much for me. It was overwhelming and though I knew it would hurt to let Roman go, I hated to admit I did feel a twinge of relief that it was over.
I got out of bed and took a long shower, enjoying the hot water on my skin. I don’t know how long I was in there, but when I got out, I did feel a little better. It was all over but the crying, as they say in the South.
It was all over…
I shook myself and the tears came again. I forced myself to comb out my just-washed hair and towel off. I pulled on my pajamas and got back into bed. And I cried some more, realizing I felt even worse than I had when I’d gotten home.
I was about to try and take a nap, thinking it might make me feel better, when I heard a noise and looked up to see Kier. He was standing in the bedroom doorway with an odd look on his face, a look of studied concern and compassion. He was holding an orange shopping bag, a big one, I stared at the bag, wondering what was inside of it, thinking it might be a purse, then thought:
Why would he buy me a purse?
I shook my head, realizing it didn’t matter what was in the bag or the reason he was carrying it into my bedroom. What was he doing there? I hadn’t seen too much of him in the last little bit, but then again, I’d avoided him and made sure to ignore most of his calls. He’d allowed me my space, that was true, but there he was again, once again, coming into my life.