Lover's Quarrel

Chapter One: "Why Don't You Love Me?"

He had told his precious Vivian that he had had to work today. But instead of going to the office, he came here. I had met him at the door as I always did, stepping back as he followed me in, elbowing the door shut with such a force that the lace curtain caught in the weather stripping, his ravenous eyes on my face. My body. When we made it up the stairs to my bedroom, all the window shades were already down and the curtains drawn, I tried to kiss him but he instead went straight to work replacing a hickie that had only barely finished fading from my collar bone. Abandoning all grace and reserve, he clawed at my clothing and left it where it fell. His impatience was a lightning bolt carrying us from one forbidden pleasure to the next—a puddle of clothing on the bedroom floor; untrammeled seeking; an almost manic compulsion to find, touch, taste everywhere; his mouth upon my breasts, belly, and mons; mine upon him; my back pressed against the wall; his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as he brought me down onto the bed on my knees facing away from him as he entered me roughly.

It was my least favorite position, and we had tried so many. I felt like my facing away from him demeaned the intimacy of making love. Luckily, however, he didn't ride out the whole thing in doggie style; so I knew he was not frustrated or angry with me. He turned me over and climbed on top of me and I took him in my hand, making him groan with his eyes closed, and guided him inside of me.

I moaned loudly, running my hands greedily over his chest, wanting all of him, every single inch of him, all to myself. I wanted him to belong to me and to no one else.

His brown curls were stuck to the perspiration on his forehead; his hands perched on either side of my head as he drilled into me harder and faster.

"Oh… oh god, Emmett… I… I'm com—oh my god!" I moaned loudly, feeling all nine and a half inches of him inside me as I grew closer and closer to ecstasy.

"Ah, fuck, Rose…" he groaned as I lifted my hips against his and threw my head back into the pillow. My hands released the cars of the brass headboard and knotted themselves into his hair, writhing in pleasure.

"God, I love you…!" he rasped. Suddenly every good feeling and pleasure within me snubbed out, like a lit candle, bringing back the memories of the first time he had said that to me.

On a night very much like this one, back in the early days of our affair, he told me he loved me. He was so close to his orgasm that I don't think he realized he had said it aloud. But I believed him. Just like the foolish girl that I was. Someone else cared about me, and I moaned with pleasure and glee. Finally, I believed, my love was requited. Suddenly it didn't matter that he was almost six years older than me. All that mattered was that he loved me.

I had been so in love with him since I had first met him at that stupid party when I was seventeen, just trying out my brand new fake ID, and I ended up in bed with a married man.

But of course I was just so relieved to have somebody love me, like a lover, I would have believed it if I had only heard it from a dream. I was nineteen now and in the two years since we had become lovers, I had hoped with all my heart that some day he might return my feelings.

So, foolishly, smiling like an idiot to myself, I had said it back; over and over again. Then, at the end of the day as he was heading to the door, I met him at the foot of the stairs and grabbed his arm and when he spun around to face me I threw my arms around him and kissed him for all he was worth, never wanting to let go.

"Oh, Emmett…" I'd said. "I love you too, Sweetheart. So, so much." And I had gone in for another kiss… it had never occurred to me that to do so would be one of the most foolish things I had ever done.

We never kissed on the lips. Not even in bed. It was a specific rule of his, one of the conditions he had made when we began the affair. It's just too personal, he had explained. But I had figured then, since he loved me back anyway, that it would be okay to now…wrong.

He unwound my arms from his neck and shook his head. "Rosalie, what are you talking about?" he had asked me, bewildered by my sudden outburst of emotion and my nonsensical talk of love.

"I… I love you too, Emmett." I said softly, tilting my head slightly and looking up at him.

"Um… too?" he cocked an eyebrow. That time, I felt the sting of rejection accumulating in my stomach and rising up through my chest.

"You…" I stared up at him for a good ten seconds. "You said you… that you loved me… only a little while ago. You told me, "Rose, I love y—"

He surprised me by laughing. "Oh, Rosalie. Honey. We've had a lot of fun. And I love doing this with you," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder as if he were being nice. "But come on, Rosy. You're a little young to really know what love is. But I am flattered." I put my hands over my ears and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. I didn't want to hear this.

"I am nineteen—" I began, but he cut me off, asking me how old he was and my voice went up a couple of octaves.

"Well… twenty-five, but—"

"Exactly." He said, moving a strand of my hair away from my face and kissing my forehead. Something heavy and unpleasant was growing inside my chest, digging and clawing at my heart. It was a horrible, sort of ripping, tearing sensation in my heart.

"So," I had to get this straight. "You don't love me… but you love what I can do to you?" I asked, my arms limp at my sides, eyes down, not focusing on anything in particular.

He patted my arm again, I felt so foolish; like a child. "Exactly," he said. I don't think he meant to mock me, but it felt like he was laughing at me. "Well, now that that's settled… see ya around, kid." He kissed my forehead one more time before turning around and heading out the front door, closing it behind him with a loud click.

I had never been so humiliated in my life, I felt so idiotic… I just stood there for a long time. It felt like hours before I finally moved to go back upstairs to my room, suddenly so lonely. All of the previous emotion gone and leaving behind this empty shell. I sniffed and went to my bed to strip the sheets for the wash. The slightly discolored fabric denoted the number of encounters we had had like this one. I sniffed again and wiped my eyes on the back of my hand and took the sheets downstairs, taking the feelings of emptiness with me.

Now, three years later, I was twenty-two and Emmett was twenty-eight. All of a sudden, I started crying. Tears pouring down my face. I tried to push him off of me but he was too big. I said softly "Stop it, get off…" my voice thickly coated with moisture as I wept.

"Emmett, please get off of me…" I said again, but he didn't stop. He probably hadn't even heard me. He was so close to finishing but I couldn't go on for another minute.

His visits had been much shorter and less frequent than ever before. Sometimes, I would go for weeks without hearing from him and once he had come back after five months to tell me that Vivian had had another baby. Another baby? The news had shattered me. I hadn't even known he'd had one child. I hadn't even known he'd married her. And that baby was now eighteen months old and I'm sure he looked just like his daddy.

But Emmett still did not stop, if anything, he only got faster, holding me tighter, hurting me. "Emmett, stop it! Emmett, please… you're hurting me!" I cried. "Get off!" Finally, I managed to push him off of me and I grabbed the blanket to cover myself, the tears falling freely now.

At first, the anger in his face frightened me, but once he saw that I was crying he groaned in frustration and put his hands on his knees. "Ah, come on Rose… again?" he said, exasperated. But I couldn't even look at him anymore. He never told me he loved me unless he was within grasping reach of his orgasm, and I had had enough. I got up, wrapping the blanket around my frail, much thinner body, and I looked at him.

"Just stop it!" I screamed.

I had never yelled at him before. I was always too afraid that he would leave me and never come back, and I knew that I couldn't live without him.

"Why can't you ever say that to me when you're not fucking me?" I cried. "I know it doesn't mean the same to you as it does to me, but I. Love. You!" I quickly wiped the tears against the corner of the blanket I had wrapped around myself. "I have been your whore for four and a half years now and I'm not even allowed to kiss you! Or even wave at you if I pass you on the street!" I could feel my face flushing but for once I didn't care how ridiculous it made me look.

Emmett just stared at me, never saying a word. I suppose waiting to hear me out before he tried to calm me down. His expression was still startled. So I went on. "I have loved you since that first night I met you, Emmett! I wanted to be the woman you woke up to every morning! I wanted to be the one you came home to every night after work! I wanted to be able to hold you and kiss you, even in public, and not have anything to be ashamed of! I am sick and tired of lying to everybody! Lying for you! I hate having to use the goddamn pill every time we make love! I want to be able to have your baby and not be afraid of what people might think! I wanted to give you your children! I—I…" But I couldn't go on anymore; my voice failed me.

I broke down and sobbed then and I could no longer keep my eyes on him. But his face betrayed his feelings of horror. He was horrified' he started into my eyes as though I were someone else's child throwing a tantrum in the middle of the grocery store and no one was listening. Finally though, I heard him walk over towards the window and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"What do you want from me, Rosalie?"

I glared at him and when I spoke, my voice was icy. "I want you to choose, Emmett. Right now. It's me," I laid my hand on my chest. "Or her." My hand fell to my side then as I waited for him to decide. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I suppose, for some reason I almost expected him to choose me. Even though it was crazy and completely impossible, somehow I knew that deep down he really did love me and he always would. But…

He sighed heavily and finally, after ages, spoke. "I'm sorry Rose…" was all he could say for a while. Then he looked at me again and this time, he didn't look saddened by his answer at all. Not in the least. "I choose Vivian."

I took in a sharp breath, my eyes wide. I knew it was stupid to expect any different from him, but the pain in my heart was overpowering. He had finally done it. He had finally completely broken my heart. And now there was nothing left of it but a dry, hollow husk.

"Are… are you… breaking up with me?" I whispered weakly, staring at him in disbelief. To my horror, he shrugged; almost casually. "I don't see it that we were ever in the sort of relationship where "breaking up" would at all apply to this separation." he said, his voice so casual, it stung even harder. He wouldn't look at me anymore, his eyes on the sheets—all wrinkled and faded, with lots of discoloration spots. "But in some ways…" he added. "I suppose I am." My mouth hung ajar, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I finally managed to tear my eyes away from him and bit my lip. I opened the door and didn't look at him. I didn't even have to say a word. He sighed heavily, grabbed his clothes, dressed quickly, and headed for the staircase.

I so wanted to slam the door and throw myself down on the bed where he would never lie with me again. But I tore after him, reaching him at the bottom of the staircase.

"Emmett!" I cried. He turned and I threw my arms around him and found his lips with mine. "Please, just let me have one kiss." I plead quietly, stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss him again. Except unlike before, he wrapped his arms around me and held me so tightly in his strong arms that I thought I would fall too pieces if he ever released me. I rested my hands on his chest and lifted my face as his descended, then his soft, open lips touched mine. Ah, that kiss, that long-awaited kiss, fragile as a new bloom, exquisite in its intentional reserve. He allowed that bloom to open slowly, let the stirring build, and the breathlessness mount until our lips opened wider, our tongues joined.

Our eyelids began closing before our mouths met a second time. In one motion he gathered me close and my arms circled his neck again. The kiss became wide, lush, and flavored with remembrance. Our tongues met and welcomed a new fervor as we clung hard, his hands stroking my back, mine, his shoulders. When at last we drew apart our breathing was labored, our mouths wet.

"Please… don't let go," I whispered.

But he did, almost reluctantly, saying only "Good bye, Rosalie." I bit my lip and nodded, eyes downcast as he opened the door and stepped across the threshold, leaving me there to collapse at the foot of the staircase, knowing he wouldn't be coming back ever again. I thought he said something just before he left, but I couldn't understand what it was and before I could ask him, he closed the door behind him and walked out of my life forever.

Author's Note: Hello again, everybody! I know it has been a long time since I declared this story discontinued, but I am back now and am starting this story over again. I hope you all are still around to read this, because I have been debating with myself on whether or not to come back for the past year or so now. I hope you enjoy the story a second time around as much as many of you did the first time. READ & REVIEW! Love, Emmy