What the hell just happened?
She’s in the bathroom for what seems like an eternity but it’s really only an hour. I tried to go in but she locked the door. It makes the hair on my neck stand up but I’m probably overreacting. She wants privacy, that’s cool. Time to get her thoughts together. Great. When she’s done she comes out, a grin on her face.
“Hurry up and get ready, I’m starving.” She gives me a soft passionate kiss. I pull her close to me, squeezing her waist, and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding on to. She’s okay. Her energy from earlier is gone and she’s back to being my smart-mouthed angel. I shower quickly and we head out to a bar and grill near our house. We get an extra large order of barbeque wings and curly flies. She sits with her feet in my lap, laying on my dick. I want to pull her into the bathroom but it’s disgusting in there. I throw a fry at her which she swats it away wearing a playful grin. She clears her throat her grin softening.
“Babe, I want you to promise me that you’re really going to pursue photography.” She says, her voice firm and eyes soft on me. I frown at her.
“I am. We agreed on this,” I remind her, shifting her feet to get a better angle on my dick. She smirks but pulls them away. I let out a frustrated groan.
“I’m serious. Whatever happens you have to promise me you’ll give it everything you have.” Her voice is serious, too serious, almost pleading, and it’s killed my hard-on. I look at her closely. She’s smiling but it doesn’t reach her eyes—those aren’t light at all, her normal deep grey now pale and almost green. I’m irritated and I don’t know why but she’s ruining the mood.
“What the hell are you talking about Alana?” I ask her, annoyed. She rolls her eyes.
“Nothing, okay.” She blows me off, stuffing a fry in her mouth.
“No it’s not nothing, what’s up?” I demand.
“Nothing Ian, Jesus,” she says through a clipped laugh and finishes her drink. I narrow my eyes and when she sees that she gives me a flirty grin and places her feet back into my lap. We finish up dinner, and it’s good. So is the conversation about the places she wants to stop. She’s more excited than me about our road trip. We walk home, my hand in her back pocket. She holds onto my arm tightly and it’s amazing like it always is with us, but there’s something different. Something that’s off.
We make it back to the apartment and get undressed. I sleep naked, she likes to sleep in her underwear. I pull her to me, taking in her scent, how soft she is, how she’s mine. It’s not long until my hands are in her underwear, playing with her, each moan and whimper imprinting on my brain. She stops me before she comes and turns me on my back and climbs on my dick. She begins to ride it, going so slow and deliberate. I grab her hips.
“No,” she says through a sexy growl, taking my hands and pinning them behind me. She lays atop of me grinding slower, sucking my neck, and kissing my chest. I pull her face to me and our tongues intertwine. This is fucking intense, more than it’s ever been between us. I kept thinking earlier that telling her about wanting a kid may have been a lot, that it scared her, but after how hot this time is I think she’s trying to get pregnant today.
“I love you Ian, God, I love you so fucking much,” she whimpers in my ear. I roll her over, taking over—going deeper, reminding her she’s mine.
“You’re it for me babe, it’s just us,” I tell her before she starts to throb around me, and I’m close behind her. I come harder than I have in weeks. I stay inside of her, my eyelids heavy, my entire body exhausted. She wraps herself around me.
“I love you baby,” she says quietly again.
“I love you too,” I tell her before sleep takes over me.
I wake up to the sun spilling through the curtains, hot on my face.
“Babe can you close the curtains,” I mutter, still wanting more sleep. I groan when she doesn’t respond. She’s a light sleeper and up before me but usually stays in bed listening to music on her phone. A few minutes pass and I get up and yank the curtains closed myself. I fall back into bed. I notice there isn’t any music on. The apartment is eerily quiet. I sit up and look around the empty room. I thrust myself back out of bed and head to the living room. It’s empty. I check the bathroom and the extra bedroom. There’s no sign of her. I go and grab my phone and see it’s 7 am. I call her but her phone goes to voicemail.
I do another scan of the apartment, and think maybe she went out and forgot to charge her phone. I try to stay on her about that. I head to the living room and turn on the TV to kill some time. We have dinner with my mom tonight before we hit the road Monday. I sit on the couch and on the coffee table I see a paper that has my name on it, and my heart flinches within my chest. I stare at it. There’s something about it that makes me not want to pick it up, like it’s diseased. I let out a deep breath and grab it. It’s probably just a note saying she ran out and her phone’s dead. I ignore the fact that she has a car charger. I unfold it and start reading.
I always told you I’m not perfect. I told you that when we first met that I’m fucked, so unbelievably messed up, but you never look at me like that, you’ve never made me feel less than that, and it has always scared me because I knew a time would come when you’d realize not only am I not perfect but I’m a disaster. I want to be so much more for you, I swear to God I do, but yesterday I realized I can’t. I wish I could. I want you to know that this is not your fault. There’s nothing you could do or say that would make this different so don’t you fucking dare blame yourself for this. It will kill me knowing you do. This is me, totally me. I always hated the hand I’ve gotten dealt in this life, I hated God, the universe, or whoever for the things that happened to me, then I met you and you made up for every bad thing I’ve ever experienced. You’ve been my good and I wish to God I could be yours. You deserve what you give me and I can’t give you what you deserve and I love you too much to take that away. I know you’re hating me right now and I want you to. I’d rather have your hate than be the cause of your pain, your devastation…which I’ll end up being. I’m so sorry for being selfish and for not walking away the day you asked for my number. For trying to hold on to you because I love you so much. But I love you too much to destroy you and I will if I don’t leave now. I’ve always been good at running and even better at hiding so don’t look for me, you won’t find me. You can have our marriage annulled, I won’t fight it. You can move on and please be happy. Go on the trip, forget about me, become the famous photographer I know you can be, you promised. You are the greatest human being I’ve ever met and I will never ever forget you. You’ll be in my thoughts every second of the day, but don’t allow me to be in yours.
I love you more than you could ever know.
Alana.
I drop the letter. It might as well be on fire.
I can’t breath, my ribs are crushing my heart.
My body is shaking, I’m unsteady. My throat closing up. It’s a joke. This isn’t happening. I grab my phone and call her. I hang up and call again and again and again. Every muscle in me is tight. I try to think but I can’t. I can’t even see. I’m crying, I’m fucking crying. I kick over the table and it goes flying across the room. I have to go to her job. They might know where she’s going. I call Simon. He picks up and I’m trying to tell him I need him to come and get me, to take me to the club, but my voice is gone. I’m blubbering like a little bitch. I hang up on him and try to get myself together. She’s not gone, she wouldn’t leave like this, she can’t. I’m going to find her. I call back to back to back for an hour straight. I send her text after text until the last one says undeliverable. I call again.