Chapter 9
Nathan was still shaking when he got home. That was a mistake; that had been such a mistake. He slammed the front door behind him and jerked his jacket off, throwing it across the room.
"Fuck!" he hollered. Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath. She was there, like an angel drawn upon the back of his lids - in his mind, in his heart, in his soul and he couldn't have her. He couldn't be with her. And he wanted to so badly - it was a fiery need building inside of him, but it had been a slow build. Just seeing her, talking to her, reminding himself in the moments when she seemed like his Haley, that she wasn't - not now, not yet, that had been one thing. He could separate his need for his wife, his desire, his passion, his fucking lust for her and just compartmentalize - this was not she yet. Not yet. For the moment, he was married but not to her. Why had it to be so messed up?
But now, today, kissing her - her lips soft, achingly tender and hesitant. For her she was kising him for the first time. A woman in love kissing - kissing him, the feel of her skin, her hair, the curve of her cheek, her touch - kissing her had been like a match set to flames already rising. It had been a month since he had kissed her, touched her, made love to her.
Had he honestly thought that one kiss would be only that? Just one kiss. That it would be enough to satisfy him, keep him sane while he waited for her to love him again? Was he that stupid? Even now he wanted to get back in his car, drive over there and ravish her senseless, rip her clothes off, make mad, passionate love to her all day long - all night long.
Lucas was right. Lucas was so right. He should have just stayed away and never been alone with her. He never should have kissed her. Never. Never. She still thought he was married and if she hadn't pulled away right then, he would have done a hell of a lot more than kiss her. And then? What would have happenned? Would it have been so bad? Of course it was. Who was he kidding? Haley would never accept it.
This wasn't fair. This wasn't right. How dare this happen to them? How many different ways was God or fate going to test them? Their love? Why couldn't they just be happy, why all of this? Why? He just wanted his wife to love, to be with, to spend the rest of his life with. Was that so much to ask? Too much?
Did he love her too much? Was that it?
"Goddamnit!" he yelled, his arms flying out and throwing the vase off the table. Remains of the darkened, lifeless petals, withered beyond recognition lay still on the flat surface. Raising a hand up, he wiped his tears away and then reached out for one of the decimated petals. It crumpled between his fingers to nothing.
"Goddamn you," he whispered, as he fell onto the chair, sobs building, his fist clenching the red tablecloth, pulling it down until it lay puddled at his feet like blood spilt - or passion unspent.
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Haley stood up in a daze. It felt like hours since he had left, but the clock revealed only the passing of thirty minutes. Sighing, she brought her fingers to her lips again and headed to the bedroom. Her legs still felt weak and she still felt the butterflies dancing inside of her. The pressure of his lips, his fingers, his hands, his body - the imprint of it remembered burned against her flesh. And she wondered for the first time how she could ever have forgotten that man.
His kiss.
His kiss. What a marvelous, wonderful feeling this was - his kiss had been. Never could she have imagined, dreamed anything could be so wonderful, feel so wonderful. But it wasn't right. It wasn't even something she could have remembered. He could never had kissed her. He was married.
Of course she knew that. How could she let him kiss her? How could she let herself kiss him? Why hadn't him pull away?
Stepping into her room, she had a sudden thought. She had received a diary for her twelfth birthday and hadn't written much in it then, but she had later. She vaguely remembered writing stuff down, but in the rush of memories and, of course, in the presence of Nathan she had forgotten all about it.
Curiosity begged her to track it down, perhaps she had written about a kiss, maybe he had kised her before. Perhaps she has written about meeting Nathan. At the thought (and easily ignoring the strict instructions from Lucas and Dr. Robertson that knowing too much too soon wouldn't be good for her and she should remember by herself), she began digging through her desk and bureau.
No luck. Haley then turned to her closet. Reaching inside, she pulled on the light string and pushed some clothes to the side. There was a box in the back full of books and things and she thought it might be in there. Grasping the sides of it, she began dragging it out and as she did, a rolled up sheathe of papers fell down, hitting her foot.
She pulled the box out, clearing it from the closet and reached for the fallen papers. Moving to the bed, she unrolled them and a small gasp escaped her at what they were, pictures of her with a blonde guy. In some of them the guy hold a guitar. She set one down and began carefully looking at each one.
Something stirred at her memory, but it was not as strong as those twinges she felt around Nathan. Closing her eyes for a moment, she ignored the pictures and saw his face, remembered his kiss. Another breathy sigh escaped her. Nathan. One of the sheets fell from her hands and the rustling drew her attention back. Bending down, she picked it up, her gaze falling upon the names at the back of the picture: Haley and Chris.
"Chris," she said aloud, seeing if it brought to mind anything. "Chris," she tried again and felt nothing.
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The phone rang. Nathan stared at it, debating whether to throw it across the room or politely answer it. Rising to his feet, he grabbed the handle and settled for a disgruntled, "what?"
"Nathan?"
It was Haley. He felt his stomach knot as an image of her erupted in his mind.
"Nathan, are you there?" Her voice was soft and sweet and full of concern. He forced his eyes open and let out a breath.
"I'm here, what's up?" He could just see her in his mind, sitting on her bed, her legs curled beneath her, her legs, long and soft.
"Nathan? Are you okay?" again her voice interrupted his mental meandering, her voice, so soft and sweet. "I just wanted to ask you something, but if this is a bad time.." she trailed off.
"No, no," he forced himself to concentrate on the moment. "What do you need?" He strove for normalcy and judging by her immediate exhale of breath and the cheeriness that came across the line in her words, he succeeded.
"I was looking for my diary, cuz I wondered if I had written anything about you -"
"Don't!" He couldn't help it, all normalcy faded. God, no. "Haley," he paused and bit his lip, searching for control. "Remember, Dr. Robertson told you not to rush ahead of yourself."
"I know, I know, I just wanted to see, if, you know, like, what I wrote about everything, about you... maybe about kissing you."
"Haley, Haley," he held the phone away from his mouth and lowered himself onto the couch. How could he do this? How could he say this without hurting her? "Haley, it was wonderful, but it can't happen again. I shouldn't have kissed you, Haley."
"I know, I understand." Of course they shouldn't have. He was married. "I did want to ask you something though."
"What?" he sighed, wishing he were with her, if only so he could see the ever-changing, ever-obvious moods fly across her face.
"As I said, I was looking for my diary -"
"Haley, stop looking for it!" Now, he really wished he was with her, he could impress the necessity of her not doing so much more thoroughly in person.
"I won't, okay, I won't. Anyway," and now she sounded aggravated and he could just see the rolling of her eyes, "I found these pictures in the back of the closet."
His back stiffened.
"They were of me, Nathan. And a blonde guy with a guitar."
His throat was tight, he could barely squeak the words out, "you did?" He closed his eyes again, would she remember Chris? Would she remember him and not Nathan? Would she remember what had happened with Chris?!
"Yeah, and I was wondering, who's Chris?"
