If Only
Karen
This first part was a challenge piece that I wanted to continue. The second part is based on the first short I ever wrote. I used that to continue it, but changed the POV to Stephanie's. This would meander all over the place and be chock full of adverbs and "ings" if it weren't for the fabulous Haleigh. Thanks, Babe!
Disclaimer: The usual – nothing's mine, except the words.
She looked at the boxes stacked in the dining room – funny that after two years, all his stuff could be contained in a few cardboard squares. Her possessions would take many more; he hadn't wanted any of the wedding china, the pictures, the Stuff. He wanted a clean break, and she really couldn't blame him. He had moved back to his Aunt Rose's house but she didn't know where she was going to go.
She walked slowly through the house – it was a newly built colonial and they had lived in for the past year, so she could find her way around even in the fading light of the late afternoon. Fall had come early and the days were getting shorter. She missed the summer when it seemed like the days lasted forever and everything seemed brighter. She sat down at the desk near the kitchen and picked up the papers for the hundredth time. She knew it was the right decision, but she hated the feeling of failure, hated hurting someone she had loved; hated feeling that she had disappointed her family and friends.
This oppressive feeling of incompetence was even worse this time because she had no one to blame but herself. Why, oh why hadn't she listened? Why hadn't she believed?
"Joe asked me to marry him and I said yes."
Silence and a barely noticeable tightening around his mouth.
"Is this what you need to make you happy?"
When doubt appears, deny, deny deny. "Yes, this is it."
"Then I wish you all the best, Babe. Someday was just too far away, hmm?"
She stared at him in shock, but she couldn't wrap her arms around 'someday', or really understand what he was offering. What she and Joe had was real, and easily understandable – no effort required. The niggling doubt turned into a sinking feeling in her stomach and a pain in her heart as he smiled and wrapped his finger around a curl one last time, and then, not looking back, swiftly strode to his car.
Sighing heavily, she picked up the pen and signed her name, ending two short years of hopes, dreams, and the illusion of happiness. She didn't even know what had triggered the ending for him. Unusually for them, there had been no electrifying implosion, just the slow, steady downward progression into relationship oblivion.
Feeling like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, she folded the papers into the envelope and sealed it, then got her purse and car keys and walked out the door. She needed stamps, and even though it wasn't on the way to the post office, she drove down Haywood Street and slowed outside a gated office building. It had been two years and much had changed.
Her old parking spot was now occupied by a sporty convertible she had seen around town. The car had been known to stay there overnight, and she knew from Lula that the owner stayed on the seventh floor. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the pain in her chest expanded and radiated through her body. There was no going back – she had made her bed and she would have to live with the consequences. But it was hard…so hard.
If only….she had listened to her heart.
If Only, Part 2
It had been an incredibly long three months. Selling the house and finding myself a new condo had taken a while, but I found a new complex just far enough away from my parents to save my sanity, yet close enough to save my mother's. I also found a new job – when I got married, I hung up my bounty hunting paraphernalia, mainly to make Joe happy, but partly because I knew I couldn't safely keep seeing Ranger if I wanted my marriage to work. Obviously, I should have realized there was a problem then and there.
Anyway, I found a job doing investigative work for a workers comp insurance firm – I was the person who followed the people with the bad backs as they rode horseback or went skydiving during all their paid free time. I liked it, I made my own hours, and I got to use my spidey senses. I didn't see much of Lula or Connie – I had remained friendly with them, and kept in touch by phone, but right now, it felt like I needed to be on my own, without lots of questions and outside distractions.
Liar, A voice whispered. I ignored it.
LIAR!
What the fuck? If you can't lie to yourself, what's the point? Okay, so I couldn't handle hearing about Ranger or the woman he was supposedly seeing. I'd rather just pretend he, and especially 'they', didn't exist. And that was working well for me. Pretty well, anyway. If you discounted all the dessert I was eating to distract myself, it was going really well. I found dessert to be a wonderful distraction. At night, when the memories crowded in, I hopped in my car for takeout and simply ate them away. I was hoping they'd fade before my hips got too big to fit into the car, but it wasn't looking good. Tonight it was tiramisu from Rossini's. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror and grimaced at the hair. I threw on some extra lipstick to compensate and walked to the entrance.
The spicy scent of tomato and garlic surrounded me as I opened the door and I inhaled appreciatively, then grabbed my takeout order and turned to go. I glanced around the restaurant and came to a dead stop as my chest tightened and my breathing hitched and became difficult. I knew from Lula that Ranger had been seen with a woman recently, and, even more distressingly, that she had been known to spend the night on the seventh floor; but, since denial is my best friend, I had pictured him with a woman not quite so attractive – I had pictured someone who dressed in muted plaids, maybe, and someone to whom he would bring flowers to brighten her otherwise dull existence. Absolutely pathetic, and completely unrealistic, I know.
But the woman at the table with him now didn't look like at all like I had pictured. She definitely had never rolled in garbage or been awash in pickle juice. From her perfectly fashionable Jimmy Choo shoes to her perfectly fitted periwinkle-blue silk sleeveless dress, she looked, she looked…I wanted to tell myself she looked slutty or snotty and unapproachable, but the fact was she looked neither. Her hair was a sleek waterfall of black silk and her curvy, yet toned body obviously didn't subsist on Tastykakes. She looked like a perfectly gorgeous woman enjoying the attentions of a scandalously enticing man. A man who was bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing them.
A heated flush suffused my face as my body went hot, then ice cold. "Retreat," my brain screamed. Problem was, I couldn't move – I was rooted to the floor and pain was slicing through my heart at the sight of Ranger with someone else. Somewhere deep in the cellar of my House of Denial, I knew he had moved on – after all, I was the one who had gotten married - but the reality of actually seeing it was hitting me like a 50 lb. sledgehammer to the head. Even though my divorce was now final, that didn't mean that I could, or even wanted to, go back.
Liar.That voice again. And I miserably admitted to myself that even though my rational brain believed it – whatever "it" had been – was over the day I let Morelli slip a ring on my finger, my heart believed that there was still a chance – that the connection between us would never truly go away, and that there was still hope for some type of future for us.
"How pathetic can you be," I said to myself – pining away over someone who doesn't want you in that way. And that someone was now sitting at a table with another woman with, omigod, his eyes looking directly at me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Escape. Escape. Must escape." I needed to follow the directive my brain was issuing.
"Breathe, Steph, breathe. You can do this. One foot in front of the other." I made my feet move, tossed a finger wave somewhere in Ranger's general direction and ran right out the door….right into the kitchen. Son of a fucking bitch! Tears blurred my vision and coursed down my cheeks as I stumbled into a tall rack of pans and fell right over, pots and pans clattering to the floor around and over me. The chaos that dominates every commercial kitchen came to a dead stop as the chefs, cooks and dishwashers gawked at me sprawled amidst the tools of their trade. I managed to lever myself up, leaped over the mess, and ran as fast as my legs would carry me out the back door, leaving behind yet another story about my mishaps. My mother's phone would be ringing nonstop.
I ran around to the side of the building and made it to my car before I bent over, unable to breathe, and feeling like I was going to throw up. Denial wasn't working for me right now – nothing was going to erase the picture of Ranger's lips on someone else's hands.
"Babe."
I spun around and froze, my heart just cracking into pieces right inside my body. He was lethal in SWAT clothes, but the wholesale devastation he caused in a black suit was something else entirely. His white shirt was open at the neck, giving me a peek of his bronzed skin; his hair was pulled back and secured.
"Who is she?" I heard myself whisper, although I don't remember saying it.
Ranger reached out and wrapped a curl around his finger. The easy familiarity of the gesture shattered the already-cracked pieces of my heart. "Why do you care?" He asked, so softly I could barely hear him.
It was a reasonable question. I just wasn't sure I could verbalize my answer. Time stretched out, and I shook my head. I wasn't ready to admit to anyone what I felt inside.
"I…I…I" Words failed me as I chickened out of responding.
"I have to get back to the table." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and if I sensed a hint of disappointment in it, it was probably just my hopeful imagination. He turned back toward the door.
Anger at myself for failing to step up, and, completely unreasonably, anger at him for not making me do it tore through me. I welcomed it, the empowering feeling of unbridled anger –a rage that forces you to strike out. "Yes, of course you do. Because that's what you do best – walk away."
Eyes black with fury, he stepped back to me. "What did you say?"
I was on a downward roll – probably right off a cliff - but at that moment, I didn't care. It felt too good to feel after the past three months of inertia. "I said to just leave. You've obviously moved on. There's nothing for you here." Okay – now I was being stupid, but I was thinking that maybe it was better to finally finish off this dysfunctional "something" so I wouldn't spend a single minute more wondering about the "if" and regretting the "if only".
"Apparently you've forgotten the last two years of your life. I didn't walk away – you did."
"From what? You offered me nothing."
"What were you expecting? I was under the impression that you didn't want to get married – that you were trying to break free from Burg expectations."
His expressionless scrutiny of me peeled away my layers of protective denial and I felt emotionally naked before him. Too naked. I didn't want to admit marrying Joe was a huge mistake on my part, and that the breakup was my fault. My fault for not loving him enough, or as much as I loved someone else. My fault for caving in to what most people thought I 'should' do and not taking a chance on what I wanted. It was too much, and I did what I do best.
I ran away – again.
He stood still and silent as I turned and jumped into my car. He never moved as I peeled out of the parking lot and left him behind. When I glanced back in the mirror, he was gone. I pulled to the side of the road as big, fat tears rolled down my cheeks. What the fuck had I just done? It had been just too much emotion all at once. Feeling his fingers tug on my hair had dredged up overwhelming feelings of loss, regret, confusion, and a devastating flash of desire and yearning. And then the painful realization that I had just run away from the person I most wanted. All that at once was just too scary. Too much to deal with. And it didn't matter anyway - he wasn't available.
And what if he doesn't want you anymore? Fucking voice again – but bingo, right on the money. I was afraid.
I furiously rubbed at my eyes, uncaring about the wrinkles I was causing. Somehow I had managed to hold on to the tiramisu, so the night had not been a total loss. Finding a smile, I told myself that the first time seeing him again was bound to be upsetting. I just needed to eat my dessert and take a little time and I could get myself back on track. One small dessert would never do that job, so I stopped for a pint of Ben and Jerry's to wash it down with.
Full, and floating on a contented cloud of carb and sugar overload, I finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Except that when I awoke, I could smell the Bulgari in the air. The memories washed over me in a sudden rush, leaving me breathless with desire and anticipation, but an underlying sadness.
Maybe he does still want me. My traitorous heart thought. He's here, waiting for me to wake up. But I didn't believe it. He had probably done what he did best – checked on me and made sure I was okay.
A shadow separated itself from the door and moved to the side of the bed, dropping into the chair next to the bureau. I was so stunned to see him that I couldn't speak – I just lay there and stared at him. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see that he was still in the white shirt, but the black jacket was gone. He had rolled the sleeves up and I could see the faint glint of a gold watch around his wrist. My mind slowly began to work and I spoke the first words that came into my head.
"Why aren't you with her?"
He stared at me for a minute. "I should be."
"Why are you here then?"
The reply came slower this time, and it felt like he was admitting to something he wasn't happy with.
"I don't know." And I sensed a profound dissatisfaction on his part that he didn't know. I thought that maybe he had filed me under "past" and, like me, was unsure of what the future plan was. But I couldn't deny that my body was tingling all over just from being this close to him. I sat up and watched as his eyes traveled hungrily over me and my tank top.
"I'm sorry for what I said to you tonight. It wasn't my finest hour."
I saw a flash of white as he smiled and moved to sit next to me on my bed. My breath caught as the Bulgari settled over me like a warm silky blanket and I felt a shaft of heat spear through me as he reached out and cupped my face.
"I'm fond of her, Steph. Samantha's fun to be with. But there are no strings and no commitments. I'm not in love with her, nor is she with me."
Based on my knowledge of the man, I would doubt that last part, but maybe I was prejudiced. But I couldn't pretend that I wasn't feeling a jolt of happiness at his words.
"Are you fond of me?"
And I had my answer when I looked into his eyes. Black, bottomless pools, but I could see what my marriage had done to him. I hadn't known. He had hid it so well. Oh, Dear God, I didn't know.
"Why," I whispered. "Why didn't you stop me?"
"Babe. You said you were happy, and it was what you needed. I didn't think it was the right decision, but I can't live your life for you."
"Shit. I've caused so much pain and unhappiness. I wrecked Joe's life because I was too scared to stand up for myself. Why didn't I see that I wouldn't be happy doing what he expected of me?"
The threatened tears fell and he gathered me against his strength. And I luxuriated in the feeling of being held in his arms, because, truly, there was no better place to be. I held on to him like he was my lifeline dangling above a turbulent sea. My mind demanded that I back away, let go and get some space – that it was too soon, too little talked about. But it felt like sanctuary in his arms, and I couldn't give that up.
He held me tightly and his hands rubbed my back, up and down my spine. His head dipped and his cheek skimmed against my temple, his breath soft against my hair. My face was tucked into his neck and with the slightest movement I could press my lips against his sinfully warm skin. I tried to think, to consider the consequences of my actions. But, there are times when needs, desire and overwhelming lust simply overpower logic. I kissed him. He froze for a second, then drew me away, holding me and looking into my eyes. I needed this – needed to feel alive and get our connection back. Most of all, I just needed him. I smiled at him and tilted my face to his. My arms came up, sliding along the smooth muscles in his arms, and knotted themselves around his neck.
"Please."
He groaned and dipped his head, laying soft pillow kisses along my jaw until he came to my lips. He hesitated for a second, savoring the suspense, then slowly caressed my lips with his, like he couldn't believe this wasn't a dream. Then the cautiousness disappeared, and as it did, his kiss hardened, became more demanding, more passionate. His need called to mine and I surrendered to the tidal wave of pleasure he was creating. I shifted in his lap and could feel his hardness; I pressed in little and he drew in a sharp breath.
He slid me off of him and laid me down on the bed, stretched out next to me. I ran my hands over the planes and angles of his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his body and savoring the feel of his warm, smooth skin. He captured my hands and twined our fingers together. We looked into each other's eyes, faces as close as could possibly be without touching. I felt a surge of emotion and wanted him to know. I didn't want to keep it a secret anymore. I needed to tell him.
"I loved you…" I whispered softly.
"I loved you." No hesitation.
"I still do."
His eyes widened a bit and his grip tightened on mine. His reply, when it came, slid over my soul like warm honey, filled in the painful cracks and dents that I had inflicted on it, smoothed over them with the promise of tomorrow.
"I always will."
At his words, I felt an indescribable happiness deep inside of me and a simultaneous peacefulness. I lifted my lips to his and kissed him with all the passion I was feeling. He ran his hands down my body, then back up, lifting my top over my head and tossing it to the side. His lips traced fire over my neck and down to my breast, his hands gathering the creamy mounds and rubbing my taut nipples. My legs tangled with his as I writhed against him. His lips descended to suck at my nipple until it was almost painfully hard, causing wakes of shivers to dance over my skin. He took my nipple in his teeth and flicked his tongue back and forth across it. Moans were involuntarily coming from me as he continued his torture.
I smoothed his hair, rubbing the silky strands along my fingertips as he kissed his way over to my other breast. His hands spread joy; blissful vibrations shimmered across my skin and descended down my abdomen.
His hands slid along my thighs, dipped down between them. My breath hitched as his finger found my folds and he could feel how wet I was. He kissed his way back up to my lips and captured my mouth like the hunter he was, branding me for all time as his and his alone. His tongue dueled with mine, back and forth, each taking and receiving, both giving pleasure. My hands rubbed against his skin, sliding down to his sculpted ass and pressing him into me. His knee nudged my legs apart and he slid into what felt like home.
I gloried in the feeling of his throbbing hardness against me, his weight deliciously pressing me into the mattress, his hands skimming my body. I reached down and unbuckled his belt, turning sideways so I could shimmy his pants down. He kicked them away and stripped off his shoes and socks. Turning back to me, he kissed his way down my body; his hands outlined and shaped each section of my skin before his mouth found it and branded it. His hands framed my hips, and his head dipped even lower. My whole lower body clenched in anticipation. If there was one thing Ranger excelled at, it was this. My hands grabbed at his shoulders as he settled himself between my legs and then his mouth was on me, his tongue sliding inside me and feeding from my juices.
His fingers glided along my skin and then he slipped two inside of me, probing, touched a small spot and my body jumped as he rubbed right there. My hips rocked against him as he continued rubbing while his tongue swirled around my clit. I watched him suck on the most intimate part of my body, then my head started whipping from side to side as the waves of pleasure built and I focused on the ripening sensations inside me.
"Babe, you're almost there, I can feel you. You're so wet, I love how you taste."
His words and the low, sexy murmur of his voice pushed me over the edge and I felt my body contract and spasm as my orgasm hit me harder than I've ever before experienced. My eyes slammed shut as feeling rushed through me, sending shock waves throughout my body. I gasped for air as my body shivered from the explosion. He pulled me in close and whispered to me in melodic Spanish, his face close against mine.
The aftershocks eased and I rolled so he was under me, his hands caressing my hips, traveling up to my breasts and back down again. I slid down so he was at my entrance, then I spent a minute teasing him, taking him inside me half-way, then shimmying back up. My hands were balanced on his chest and I could feel his muscles contracting with my every movement. His breath seemed to catch each time I retreated, and I curved my lips into a wicked smile.
"Payback is a bitch, Babe."
I thought that with Ranger, that was a promise rather than a threat. I hovered for a second with the tip of him just inside me, then slowly sank onto him and settled down on the full length of his cock. The breath whooshed out of me at the realization that he was completely buried inside me, and my eyes sought his. I felt full, complete somehow. He grasped the back of my head and brought my lips down to his for a searing kiss. It promised everything and healed my wounds. This level of emotion was something entirely new to me, and I reveled in its warm strength.
I ran my hands down his chest and lifted myself up and down on him, feeling my clit crash against his body and his cock deep inside me. My breasts swayed with each movement and he reached out and rubbed my nipples. His hands moved to my hips and he lifted me faster, harder, until we were both on the brink of ecstasy. Guttural, animal-like moans were coming from our mouths as we teetered, then fell off the edge of sheer pleasure and into bliss. Boneless, I slumped on top of him, unable to do much more than breathe. His arms wound around me as he rolled and tucked me into him.
The doubts his body had swept away came slowly crowding back as sanity returned.
Shit – we still haven't talked. What now? What if this is all there is? But he loves me. Yes, but what does that mean?
Shaking my head, I slowly began to move to the side of the bed. Ranger's arm tightened around me.
"Babe? You okay?"
"Bathroom."
I escaped and closed the door, leaning against it for a minute. I couldn't deny the smile that seemed permanently etched on my face or the delicious soreness of my body. But I also couldn't deny that I was worried. I thought for a moment, and figured that honesty had gotten me this far tonight, so maybe I should stick with it. Denial was so much easier, though.
I cleaned up and walked out. I heard Ranger moving about in the kitchen, and accepted the bottle of water that he silently handed me. The bed was warm with memories as we slipped back in together, our bodies fitting like puzzle pieces.
I was debating how to begin a conversation when I heard him deliberately sniff once, twice, then three times. I elbowed him. "Stop it. Nothing's burning."
He chuckled and tightened his arms, pressing a kiss to my hair.
"Babe, you are so obvious."
"Well, what now?" There. It was out there. I did it.
"Now we're going to discuss why there are about 10 dessert containers and empty ice cream pints in your garbage, and pretty much nothing else."
"You've been looking in my garbage?"
"No, but it's hard to miss when I'm opening it to throw away a bottle cap."
"Dessert is my crutch. I eat it when I'm unhappy."
"How about when you're happy?"
"Well, I eat it then, too. Just for different reasons."
"So you're saying that dessert is a staple for you. One of your main food groups."
A warm feeling was beginning to unfurl inside me. "I guess you might say that."
"Almost like the platform you base everything else on."
"Yes, just like that."
"Makes you a very unusual person, you know."
"Takes one to know one."
He laughed softly. He knew I got his point. It did take an unusual person to love him, to accept him, to not try to slot him into a predetermined role. And the same was true for me. Dessert was my life and he was my dessert. My strength, my hero, the love of my life.
I looked at him, catching my lip, and worrying it with my teeth. "Will you be my dessert?"
His eyes softened as he reached up to capture a curl of my hair, the gesture no longer painful, but filled with promise.
"That sounds like something I could do. Anything specific?"
I laughed as visuals besieged my mind. "Um, Ranger ala mode sounds good. Or Crème Ranger? Hot fudge Ranger?" God, I was turning myself on.
He turned me to face him and his smile faded into a question.
"So we're gonna do this?" I asked somewhat hesitantly.
He tipped his head a little. "It's not gonna be easy." I could only imagine.
He grinned at me. "We're both independent, but I've tried to do without you and it just doesn't work. You snuck right in under my radar. We're better together than apart."
Tears pooled in my eyes at this. How simple, yet how true. We belonged together. No more "if only". And now we were together. Finally.
The End