CHAPTER 12

Robert bolted the front door while Cora stood in the middle of the living room. To cheer up her mood, Robert suggested they eat a slice of the peach cobbler that he kept in the oven and she nodded.

Robert took out the cobbler from the oven and placed the pan on the island table. He sliced a piece and invited Cora to dig in.

"What do you think?" Robert inquired.

They stood too close to each other, too close for their own good.

"Very delicious. The crust is crisp and crumbly, I love it." Cora answered between two mouthfuls.

Some of those crumbles found their way down to Robert's dinner jacket and she flicked each of them off with her fingers. Robert deigned for this moment to linger but reminded himself that he already made a difficult decision and there was no going back.

They climbed upstairs to sleep after storing the rest of the dessert. For the first time in three months, they climbed the steps to their room together stopping at the head of the stairs to say good night.

Robert fell asleep the minute his back touched the softness of his bed.


By midnight, he was woken by a soft knocking on his door. "Cora?"

She pushed the door open, and stood by the door outlined by the light in the hallway. Cora was wearing a white old shirt of his that she got from him when they were still together.

"Is Isis with you?" Cora inquired.

"Yes."

"Can I sleep here?"

He wanted her to explain why. He wanted to warn her not to mess up with his decision but he was a bit tired and his emotions were wrought after his declarations at dinner.

He obliged and made room for her in his bed. Smacked between him and Isis was his ex-wife who, just this month, he saw with the man she is believed to be dating with; an ex-wife who, just last week, smelled of someone else's fragrance; an ex-wife who, a year ago, was clearly pissed when he sort of crashed into their family dinner in New York.

And yet, just a while ago, she so easily slid under the covers like old times, sidled by his side, closed her eyes, and fell into the rhythmic pattern of sleep; her breathing became his breathing; her warmth became his warmth.

"What is this game we're playing, Cora?" He wanted to whisper to her ear. "I don't understand this. I'm not good at this."

"If I play your game, I have a strange feeling that, in the end, I'd lose again. Perhaps, this time, I would not survive a second heartbreak."


Came morning, Robert was awakened by the sound of birds chirping in the trees. They were bathed by the sunlight that streamed through the glass windows. His left hand wrapped tightly around Cora. His palm cupping her right breast through her shirt—less full, softer than he remembered. He adored those breasts during countless love makings. Thirty years of togetherness...you could not imagine how many times and ways they had loved each other no matter how discreet they were about it.

At the first stirrings of his desire—he had never been made love to in the last five years so his body is combustible—he eased himself away from Cora's, sat up, and padded to the washroom for a cold shower.

She was still asleep when he finished dressing so he went down to the kitchen, Isis with him, to brew tea for himself and coffee for her.

Moments later she came down, her luxuriant dark hair was combed but still wearing his old shirt without her dressing gown.

"Good morning, Robert."

"Good morning, Cora."

He looked at her and saw the outline of her body through her thinning attire. Temptation! Robert's mind sounded an alarm.

"Cora, that's wicked!"

"What's wicked?" If she got his drift, she pretended she was clueless.

"That." His lips pursed at her direction. "Coming in here in that shirt with nothing on under."

Cora giggled and went red. "Robert, I'm not with nothing on. I have my knickers on." She protested.

"Exactly! One who sees you could only imagine what's under that shirt."

Robert wanted to slap himself for carrying his teasing too far. Those were not the kind of things to say to Cora given their precarious relationship, or her newfound relationship with someone. No woman deserves to be talked like that.

They may have had used atrocious, dirty talk, to each other in the privacy of their bedroom before but the situation now is different.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Cora. I should not have said that."

"I don't mind." Cora replied casually pouring coffee to her cup.

When she noticed the look of disbelief on his face, she groaned. "Ugh, Robert..."


Later that day, Mary dropped by her office to give him a copy of a contract that he wanted to study. Before she went out of the room, she turned back at her father with a remark. "You looked chirpy, Papa."

Robert gave her an enigmatic smile. Let Mary mull it over.