Ripped Apart
It was late at night, but not too late. It was in the hours between bedtime and the time where everyone is sleeping. There was only two words for Summer to say about this kind of time of night: Too Late.
Usually, she would have been in bed. She wasn't old enough to go to bed at nine, but she was hardly a teenager anymore. In fact, she wasn't anything like a teenager. She was thirty-eight years old, a wife and a mother. A Newpsie, try as she might to deny it.
Without meaning to, she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the front door ease open, the lights click on, footsteps come toward her. Just to torture him, she didn't turn around when he entered the room she was waiting for him in. They'd been married seventeen years, and still they played games.
"Hey Summer, you're still up," said Seth in surprise when he saw her dark head, perfectly still, from across the room.
He walked over to her. Tolerantly she accepted his light kiss. Her heart lightened at his smile-twenty years later, he still seemed amazed that she was his.
"You sound surprised I'm still up. You know why. Because it's ELEVEN THIRTY!" she yelled, her voice getting progressively louder.
"I was busy. We're negotiating for a new property," he explained, refusing to fight with her.
"You're always negotiating! You have thousands of properties! You've made us filthy, stinking rich! Why does it matter anymore?" she raged on. He looked around: he had made them rich. Very rich. Their mansion was closer to Caleb's size than the one of his parent's, the pool house was vast, they enjoyed a life greater than most of the other Newport citizens.
"So what, you think I should retire? Stay home all day wearing sweatsuits, look over your shoulder, follow you around, help you organize your charity events? Embrace the Newpsie life?" he said. He went over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice.
"God what are you, two? It could at least be scotch," she said nastily. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to snap at her.
"Look, I'm sorry I was home late. I'll try hard to be home in time for dinner," said Seth.
"You'd better be. Coops and Chino are coming over for dinner tomorrow night, and they're still under the mistaken conviction that we're the perfect couple," she said.
"You do realize that 'Coops' had been an Atwood for seventeen years?" he inquired.
"Stop changing the subject, Seth," she said. His head whipped around to face her in surprise. The name sounded so completely… wrong on her lips, he almost couldn't bring himself to respond to it.
"Don't call me that," he said, surprising both of them.
"Don't tell me what to do!" she shot back.
Immediately feeling guilty, he walked around the island in the kitchen to reach her, and took both of her hands in his. Unbidden, she looked up and met his eyes.
"Summer. I know we may not be the perfect married couple, but I'm quite sure there's no such thing. Believe it or not, I'd be fairly sure that even Ryan and Marissa fight occasionally. But I'm absolutely certain that no matter what time I get home I'm still crazy about you, and I'd be happy to climb on this counter and say so," he said. She smiled, she yielded. He always won. He always did.
They walked upstairs together, straining for the sounds of their daughter on the third floor, trying to determine if she was even awake. Such things mattered to them.
Seth dropped onto the king sized bed and waited for her as she stripped off her shirt and revealed her bra. He grinned. He couldn't help it. Despite being almost forty, the CEO of the Newport Group, a multi-millionaire and the father of one, he couldn't help grinning. She still turned him on.
She approached him slowly, climbing atop him. He gripped her thighs as she leaned down to kiss him, and they fell backwards on the bed.
They rolled over so she was underneath him. His hand went around her an undid her bra strap.
She started when she felt an odd vibration coming for his hip, but groaned when his cell phone rang. He reached for it.
"Cohen, you're not seriously going to answer? It's like, midnight," she reminded him.
"I know, but it will just take one second. Wait right there," he instructed, moving off to the bathroom to answer his phone.
It didn't take one second. It took five minutes. And by the time these five minutes were up, Summer was in bed, pretending to be asleep. He smiled, not overly fooled.
But despite this he got into bed beside her, kissed her cheek and bid her goodnight.
