Okay, so this one goes out to SPmess for catching my little slip up on the new McMahon's date of birth. I adjusted the writing as soon as I could, but please know, I appreciate you! Haha. That's what you get for writing a story out of order and re-editing sporadically. We're now in the summer of 2005 and shit's about to get real.
theeazymark, TripSteph03, stelenabangel4eva, rxckless, HHHungry, scoffie05, PlayTheGame, and SPmess: Thank you all so much for your thoughtful reviews. I don't think I've ever been so excited to post a chapter before this one. I hope it's a treat for everyone. Enjoy :)
July 2005 Continued
"Closure"
She hadn't called or texted. In the year since Hunter had last spoken to her, on the phone with her boyfriend beside her, they'd had no interaction. He hadn't really seen her either. In passing, at pay-per-views and at headquarters, they'd caught glimpses of each other. He'd caught the tail end of a conversation she was having with her father once. He'd seen her getting into a limo with her brother at another event. But that was all.
Hunter hadn't reflected on their sparse, close proximities in a long time. He'd decided that there was no point. They were divorced and moving on. Time had finally dulled the pain. He was embarrassed now; of the things he'd said and done. Brooding over mistakes and missed opportunities was also behind him. He tried his best not to dwell on what could not be. And opening a space in his heart and life for his ex-wife was simply impossible. He couldn't allow it, and it was obvious that she wasn't interested either.
He'd been certain that she would reach out. He didn't know why, but for the month following their last phone call, he'd jumped every time his phone rang. It was never her. He would check his texts every night before bed. But again, her name never crossed his screen.
More time passed, and so did the anxiety. The dull ache that resurrected whenever he heard her name even subsided. It was over. Seeing her in the sandwich shop hadn't panged him. It was just so unexpected. He was thrown off. One minute, he was minding his own business. The next, there they were; the happy family. All of the McMahons with their perfect hair and clothes, smelling like expensive perfumes and colognes. And her hair so precisely curled, her fingernails impeccably manicured. The beautiful baby boy in her arms.
There was no more pain to be felt. Just nausea. And shock. Electricity had shot through his nerves making him lightheaded. He still wasn't even sure how he made it to his car.
The night of Linda's visit, and all of the sequential nights afterwards, consisted of little sleep for Hunter. Which was challenging for him. He'd slept well all his life, no matter the circumstances. A healthy diet combined with his rigorous physical training always allowed for a good night's sleep. Insomnia was a new, unknown enemy. Though he supposed he could have been able to handle it, if it weren't for the dreams.
The nightmares, really. Night terrors.
They came every night, in different forms, but always the same subject. Sometimes the dreams were flashes, multiple different images and scenes playing out in his subconscious. Other nights, one long horror film played out from start to finish while he slept. Whatever the format, he awoke each night covered in sweat, and sometimes, screaming.
She lay beside him in bed. Her hair was curled just like it had been in the sandwich shop. He was twirling it around his index finger. Her smile beamed.
"I thought you'd never forgive me."
"I thought so too."
"You hated me."
"I could never hate you."
"Then why won't you take me back?"
They weren't in bed anymore. They were in the ring. And the crowd was roaring. He could barely hear her.
"Take me back!" She stomped her foot. Her hair was crimped. It was 2002 again.
"I can't, Steph!"
"I love you!"
He kicked her in the stomach. And then he hooked her arms and pedigreed her like he did his opponents. But she didn't go unconscious. She looked up at him faintly. The crowd still roared.
"Hunter, what about the baby?" Her hand rubbed her abdomen.
That was the first dream. He jumped up in bed, heart pumping, and confused. He was instantly irritated with Linda for bringing all this up again. But he was confident it was a one-time thing. The following nights however, the dreams returned, getting darker and more disturbing.
He was fucking her. Sensually, from behind, his thrusts were smooth and she moaned in pleasure. They stood at the foot of a bed, his heavy breathing echoing off the walls. She was the Stephanie of the sandwich shop again, full figured with loose curls. But she spoke like the young heiress who had petitioned him with a scheme for revenge and power.
"Please, Hunter." Her voice was squeaky, unsure. "I need more."
She was reaching back, clutching onto his shoulder. His hands palmed a breast and her hip, his grip hard. He was white knuckled. Stephanie turned her head, whispering into his ear.
"Forgive me, Hunter."
"I can't." Was he crying? His reply came out as a sob.
"Please," she whimpered. He pushed himself deeper into her and groaned.
"I can't, baby."
"Then punish me. Just make it stop."
She cried out in pain as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling the strands with a brutal force. Shoving her face into the mattress, he kept his grip awfully tight. Pounding into her, he built to a release until his hand was imprinted into her skin. She squirmed beneath him, taking the abuse.
Hunter lunged from the bed so quickly he almost fell. He barely registered the pain of his knees hitting the bathroom's tiled floor as he dry-heaved into the toilet. The bile in the back of his throat refused to expel, but he gagged in disgust nonetheless.
She was pregnant and he was stroking her bulging stomach. They discussed names and laughed together. Like nothing was wrong. But then she was suddenly in labor and screaming in agony. He couldn't comfort her. His throat was constricted, not letting him talk. She was begging. Begging for the pain to end. Begging for him to forgive her.
"Just one more push, Ms. McMahon." A random doctor, he looked like Batista.
"I can't!"
"Yes, you can, baby, just push." Hunter had found his voice.
"Nooo, I can't do this."
"Yes, Steph, you can." His hand was in hers.
"I can't do this alone."
"You're not alone. I'm right here."
"You don't love me. You won't love my baby."
"What?!" Of course I –"
"Mr. Helmsley, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The doctor was definitely Dave.
"What? I can't leave. She thinks –"
"She's not going to make it. Give the family privacy."
"The baby –" He heard it crying in the distance.
"There is no baby. And there's no Stephanie either. They're gone, Hunter."
He didn't know how to stop the nightmares. How could you not think of someone while sleeping? He tried going to bed earlier, then later. He even tried meditating. Nothing helped. As soon as he succumbed to sleep, she was waiting for him. Afraid of losing his mind, he began trying to avoid sleep altogether. It was pointless. He woke up screaming, or in tears, or ready to vomit, every time.
He was warm, comfortable and relaxed in an unfamiliar bed.
He was naked.
Propped up by fluffy white pillows with his beautiful ex-wife in his lap. The room was dimmed and she was naked too. He couldn't stop looking at her. There were no marks or blemishes on her skin. She smiled lovingly at him. Her hands grasped his, their fingers loosely entwined.
She was perfect.
It was only when he sat up, to be flush against her that he realized he was inside of her. His breath hitched. Their hands parted. She framed his face at the exact moment that he cupped her hips. Their foreheads rested against each other's, their lips barely apart as she began to move on top of him. Slowly, she grinded against him. Electricity shot up his spine as she swiveled her pelvis, contracting her walls around him.
Their heads pivoted while she moved, but they didn't kiss. Momentarily content to feel her breath on his face and her hands against his neck. The skin beneath his fingers was heavenly soft. He closed his eyes.
"It was a mistake," she whispered against him.
"I know."
"I didn't mean it. I just wanted your attention."
"I know."
"Please love me."
Hunter's eyes opened to see her brows knitted together. She fought the pleasure, but continued her sweet torture. He moaned openly, so honest in expressing his desire that he knew before he woke up that this was a dream.
"I did love you."
"But not anymore?"
Her lips. They were pink and wet. He wanted to answer her, but also kiss her. She quickened her pace, grinding down harder against him.
"I'm afraid you'll hurt me again," he admitted.
And then he gripped her hips and aided her movements. She bounced on his lap, driving him insane. The tension was delicious as his body built to a release; happy to have it's favorite partner back. They stayed close, her breasts rubbed erotically against his chest while her hands left his face in favor of wrapping her arms around him.
So close until finally… it was over. Her soft moans climaxed into his name, and he saw stars behind his closed eyes. Falling back, he lay again against the plethora of pillows she always liked. Stephanie raised herself on one arm, as though she was heavy enough to discomfort him. And then she caressed his face again before descending her lips onto his.
Hunter had had difficulty deciding, which was worse, jolting awake to be sick or crying. But waking up covered in his own rudiment was surely the most mortifying thing to ever happen to him. Angry and embarrassed, he stomped through his empty bedroom to shower immediately. Afterwards, he stripped the bed, tossed all the coverings out, and phoned his agent to have a new set sent out to him. But the worst of his dreams had not yet come.
And although it was the most illusory of nightmares, it felt the most real.
He watched himself happily bounce a toddler on his lap. He couldn't see the little girl's face. He stood in the ring, dressed to the nines; the emptiness of the arena was eerie. His twin babbled nonsense to the child. They sat together at the announce table. Hunter slid under the ropes to get a closer look.
He sat in his ring attire with "The Game" graphic tee stretched across his chest and a black baseball cap on his head. He looked happy. The girl on his lap faced him, her chubby hands reached towards his face. Her brown curls cascaded down her small back too perfectly. They resembled an adult's and the standing Hunter knew, without seeing her face, that the child was Stephanie's.
"You're silly, Daddy!" She cried out, giggling. The Hunter that held her tickled her side.
Approaching, Hunter finally stood beside them. The little girl looked to him.
And everything stopped.
She was perfect. Beautiful blue eyes were squinted by plump cheeks as perfect bow-lips stretched into a smile. The pale skin of her face contrasted perfectly with the brown curls that hung around it. Everything about her was immaculate. Hunter stared into her face in wonder. He couldn't get enough.
"Hi!"
"Hi," he replied breathlessly. Tearing his eyes from her, for just a second, he asked his twin, "She's yours?"
"Well, yeah."
"She's perfect."
The seated Hunter shrugged indifferently, leaving the one standing looking horrified.
"I don't love her anymore."
"WHAT?!"
The little girl looked to the man holding her. She seemed to have understood his denouncement. Her smile dropped to a frown. Her little bottom lip pouted outwards and started to tremble.
He spoke again, not breaking eye contact with the child, "You're dead to me."
The girl's eyes widened. Big blue eyes filled with tears. And then Hunter lifted the small body, to remove her from his lap, and drop her to the floor. But the floor was gone. They were now somehow 50 feet up.
The standing Hunter lunged, screaming. Suddenly, and without hesitation, ready to die for this baby. The seated Hunter let her go.
Reality could be a wonderful thing. Hunter woke up drenched in sweat and tears, throat dry, but overwhelmingly relieved. His fingers twitched, still ready to grab his daughter and keep her safe.
The ghost of the little girl followed him around for two days. He seemed to see her everywhere. There was nothing else he could do. He had to talk to Stephanie.
Walking into WWE Headquarters was something he was familiar with but not quite comfortable with. He knew he was approaching what would be the second half of his career and that most likely one of these offices would eventually become his, but not yet. He stilled planned on lacing up his boots for a few more years. Then he would take off the trunks and don some designer suits.
He assumed he knew exactly where she'd be. Taking the elevator up to the top floor where the McMahons always reserved offices, Hunter tapped his fingers anxiously against his thigh. Upon entering the floor, he found that it now only housed Vince's grand office, a few conference rooms, and a private, pristine bathroom, fit for the chairman. So he reverted back to the directory where he learned that her new position within the company was that of Talent Recruitment.
The division of talent recruitment was a fairly small one but it still required half of the third floor. An outer office, that he was happy to find unlocked, preceded Stephanie's. And her assistance's desk had been left unoccupied. He knew the underling would be back soon as the computer screen had not yet faded to black and the coffee cup on the desk was still steaming. A quick glance at the business card holder told Hunter that the assistance's name was Andrew McCoy.
He tried to open the door that led to his ex-wife's office but it was locked. Hunter, not being the cofounder of D-Generation-X for nothing, swiftly opened the top drawer of the assistance's desk and smirked wickedly at the site of a key.
Upon entering her office, he snooped around, only half interested at the list of potential professional wrestlers she was recruiting and of the pictures of her nephew that adorned her desk a bit excessively. A sweater was draped over the back of her chair and he did a double take at the few hairs that clung to it; long brown curls, exactly like his nightmares.
Hearing voices coming from the outer office, he made himself comfortable in the visiting seat across from hers and waited for the inevitable. He almost put up his feet and made a show of looking relaxed but thought better of it. He wanted to see her surprise when she saw him so he swiveled to have a view of the entry door.
"Okay, Andrew, just cancel the 10AM and I'll be sure to be available for when he calls."
Her voice got louder as they approached.
"I know Vince said there's no reason to rush but you know how he gets when – Hunter!"
Her elevated squeal made Andrew jump beside her. They stood in the doorway to her office with wide eyes at the sight of Hunter.
"How did you get in here?"
"Looks like you're going to have to start job hunting, Andrew." Hunter's voice was that of a sing-along. He dangled the key in front of his face before tossing it to the young man. The assistant flailed his arms ludicrously, not only not catching the key, but also bumping into Stephanie several times as he lost his footing.
Stephanie rolled her eyes at Hunter's antics. She calmed Andrew's anxiety by letting him know it was all right and directed him back to his desk. Hunter wasn't sure what he wanted to take in more, the black form-fitting dress that adorned his ex-wife in all the right places or the outrageously flamboyant baby blue checkered button up that tucked into the ridiculously bright blue corduroy pants of her assistant.
For a man that had been walking around solemnly for a whole week, his spirit seemed to instantly heighten at the sight of the unlikely pair. He chose to ignore the sense of relief he felt when realizing that Andrew McCoy was not the handsome, young college hunk that he had originally pictured. The rather feminine nerd was about as likely to be interested in Stephanie as she would be in him.
Once her assistant left her with a cautious eye, Stephanie closed the office door and made her way to her desk. Her cheeks flushed, Hunter knew she could feel him checking her out. When she sat opposite of him, it was at the edge of her seat with a straight back and her hands folded in front of her on top of the desk.
"I don't mean this rudely, but what are you doing here?"
He arched a brow at her, "Can't I just come for a visit? The rest of your family seemed to enjoy my company the other day."
"I wouldn't call Shane's reaction enjoyment," she deadpanned.
"So you weren't happy to see me then?"
"No, not at all." His eyes widened a bit at her admission. "It's always nice to see you. I just didn't think you'd ever come see me for something."
It was a heavy statement, but a small girlish smile graced her lips after she said it. He was taken aback. Then there was a flutter in his chest that he stomped down immediately. His mood darkened.
"Your mother came to see me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, at my house."
"Why did she do that?"
"She wanted to talk about you," and all the color drained from her face at his words. "She seems to think that you're hung up about our divorce. She said you're not moving on, and basically, that it's because you're still in love with me."
Stephanie reeled away from him. Her forearms left the desk to wrap around her midsection and her eyes jumped from each of his, looking for a sign of jest, hoping this was a joke, that her mother had not sold her out once again.
"I… I…" She stuttered and he let her. Allowing her to fumble over her words, trying to find the right way to lie herself out of this. He could see that she was panicking but he refused to change his stony expression. He didn't know why.
"I'm sorry! I don't know what would possess her to do that. It's not true and it wasn't her place to speak to you about any of that. I'll talk to her and make sure she doesn't bother you again." She spoke fast, adverting her eyes every other second.
"Don't be too hard on her. This time she was trying to help you. I don't think it was coming from a bad place." He sounded angry and arrogant, but he couldn't stop himself from sticking up for Linda. No matter the nightmares, he had grown fond of his mother-in-law during the course of his marriage and he still held a candle for her now.
"Either way, please don't read into anything she said. I'll speak to her."
"Okay."
"I'm sorry," she repeated, still looking horrified at his words. She organized papers and other small objects on her desk while avoiding his gaze. "I don't know why she contacted you. She and I had one random conversation about our marriage and now she's getting involved. It won't happen again."
Stephanie raised her eyes to his but continued to look a bit sheepish. He took advantage of the moment.
"Well," he led her on for a moment, "is it true? Are you not moving on? Do you need closure?"
Hunter had meant for the questions to come out sincere because he truly did want to know. But for some reason he sounded cocky, as though he had premeditated bullying her. Maybe he had. He still couldn't wrap his head around how he felt about her. It always seemed to change, no longer by the day or even the week, but every time he thought of her.
Stephanie briefly looked away again, but then seemed to gather some courage and looked him in the eye when she replied. He expected her to lie, to deny everything her mother had said to him, but again he was surprised.
"I'm trying to move on. And I wouldn't ask you for closure."
"Good." Again, it sounded condescending when he hadn't meant it to. He cleared his throat. "I don't think you deserve closure."
"I know."
"And especially not from me."
"I know."
"I don't owe you anything."
"I know."
"I feel sorry for whatever poor bastard you're trying to move on with."
Silence. She just looked to him at his comment. His heart pounded in his chest. What the fuck are you doing?!
"I'm never going to forgive you."
Shut up! You idiot!
Her gaze deepened, and he turned serious when her bottom lip seemed to quiver. Just like the little girl's had in his dream.
"I know," she clenched her jaw. "You don't have to do this. I said I'd talk to my mom and I will. We're over and we're always going to be over and I know that. You don't need to remind me," he watched her ramble, a death mask on his face. "I've left you alone, I haven't bothered you. I'll continue to do that."
"But you want to," he interrupted. "You want closure. You just haven't had the guts to ask for it."
He saw a flash of her old self. Annoyance tugged at her features before she looked away, continuing her habit of only making eye contact for a few moments at a time.
"You just said I don't deserve closure. And I'm many things, Hunter, but stupid's not one of them. I would never go asking for something I know I won't ever get. I'll speak to my mother. Please just leave it."
"And what if I want closure?" He snapped. "What if I want to hash some things out?"
She looked at him bewildered.
"Do you?"
"Yeah, why not?" Anger bubbled within him. He felt himself turn mean. "Let's start with how many guys you fucked while living in my house, and then we can move on from there." He gestured with his hand for her to speak.
"Are you serious?"
"Yup. Let's hear it, Steph. Give me closure."
Hunter openly mocked her now. His tone dripped with sarcasm, but she still studied him. She was so calm.
My God, she's so different.
Quietly, she said, "I never cheated on you."
"The divorce is over. There's no advantage in lying."
"I never cheated on you."
"You're really sticking to that?"
She looked to the desk and said again that she hadn't been unfaithful.
"No one from ECW? Jericho had to have hit it at least once."
She cringed at the phrase but answered, "No."
Hunter tipped his chair back on two legs, lacing his fingers and resting them on his stomach.
"Why'd you take the general manager position over on SmackDown?"
"I needed the job."
"What was that bullshit with Bischoff on Halloween?"
The question surprised her. That had been years ago and it had nothing to do with their marriage or any type of closure she could provide for him. He remained stony faced; not letting his internal panic show. He didn't know where the question had come from.
"A," she paused to find the right words, "brief lapse into insanity." She finished with a small smile.
It grossed him out. But more importantly, it further unnerved him. She was smiling about an embarrassing mistake. It was so unlike her. His eyes slightly squinted, trying to make sense of her. He couldn't, so he continued his interrogation.
"Why did you let me have everything?"
"I thought it was the right thing to do."
She shrugged when he looked at her in disbelief.
"How did you and your dad reconcile?"
"Shane's son was born. It put things into perspective for everyone."
"You're really going to answer all of these questions?" He dropped the chair back down to all four legs, leaning closer to her.
"Do you really want closure?"
A pause.
"Yes." It was sincere.
"Then yes. I'll give you whatever you want."
She said it innocently. Her expression was open and honest. But his mind immediately went to his nightmares. They twisted with his very real attraction to her and he cleared his throat to buy himself a few seconds.
"Did you know what you were going to say when we went out to the ring that night?"
Ah, the lie. Of course.
"No, I just kinda blurted it out."
"What was the plan after that?"
She looked upset at this new line of questioning.
"I figured with all our… celebrating, it would happen for real."
"And I'd just be too stupid to notice the baby being born months late?"
"No," she adverted her eyes. "I figured I'd come clean once I was really pregnant."
They sat in silence for a moment. He watched her fiddle with a paperclip. When she spoke again, it was to her hands, her face partially blocked by her hair.
"It was on my mind. A month before, I thought that I was."
He hadn't known this, "And?"
"I was really late, but… it was just stress."
"Didn't bother to tell me that though, did you?"
Stephanie raised her head to give him a look of exasperation. But she didn't combat him.
"Why?" He asked it softly. She lowered her gaze in shame again.
"I thought it would fix us."
Tension filled the room. They were in that place again, right on the threshold of an explosion. She would now mention that they had had problems before she lied, and that she had lied because of them. He would deny it all and refuse to acknowledge any scenario where she wasn't totally, and solely, at fault. Because he didn't care how lonely or unappreciated she had felt during the months of his rehabilitation, that all paled in comparison to her failed manipulation. He pushed to the back of his mind the memory of him promising her that things would be better the night before he returned to the ring.
"I'm sorry, Hunter."
Her apology interrupted his thoughts. It sounded sorrowful and genuine. His body seemed to purr at the tone of her voice. Every nerve and muscle begged him to forgive her. But he couldn't. His pride wouldn't let him so he cloaked himself in anger once more.
"How long did it take you to finally bang Angle?"
Disappointment etched across her features, "I never slept with Kurt."
"That's not what we were hearing over on Raw."
"All lies. Probably meant to mess with you."
"Why would anyone think I give a –"
"Just ask your questions, Hunter."
She lives! For the first time, she expressed something other than submission.
"Who else knew you were lying."
"No one," but he rolled his eyes so she continued. "Shane suspected. But no one knew."
"Why did he think something was up?"
"We had talked a week before it happened. I vented a bit and told him that I was concerned about our relationship," she spoke again to her hands. They were once again circling that bomb. He changed the subject.
"I read the letter you sent my parents. You shouldn't have contacted them."
Meeting his eyes, "Your mom reached out after she got it. We spoke very briefly and that was it. I haven't heard from either of them since, and I have no plans to contact them."
"Good." A pause, "Why don't you come to the shows? You McMahons are tight-knit again, right?"
"Too much drama, I've been trying to live better."
He scoffed, "Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything you kept from the lawyers that you didn't want me to have?"
Was he just pulling these questions out of his ass? Yes, definitely. But they were talking, and that was enough. In a weird way, it was cathartic for him. She looked nervous. He gulped.
"Yes," she answered.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"
"Your wedding ring."
And just like that, the seriousness returned. He was playing with an eternal fire.
"You still have it?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
She swallowed, "At my house."
"Why?"
Stephanie puffed out her cheeks and shrugged nonchalantly. But he noticed how she averted his stare so he let the silence stretch awkwardly.
"It's all I have left of you."
He was taken aback, "So it's a talisman?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "Kinda."
"What if I want it back?"
He immediately regretted saying it. The pain in her eyes was unbearable.
"I mean, it's yours," she nodded. "I can bring it to –"
"No. I don't need the reminder."
Did he image the feeling of relief emitting off of her?
"Your mom made it sound like you weren't moving on because of me. What happened to your boyfriend?"
Irritated now, "We broke up and forget whatever she said. She had no right to meddle and doesn't understand anyways. I'm going to ta –"
"Is it true? Are you pining after me?" He said it so slimily even he was disgusted by it.
They broke up. The words echoed in his head. He kept his face miserable. An easy feat. It had been like that for years. His gut jolted, however. They broke up. She was alone. Like him.
A few slow seconds ticked by.
"I just… need more time," she said.
"More time?"
She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
"It's been almost three years. We've been divorced longer than we were married."
"I know," she whispered heavily, embarrassed.
Hunter found it difficult to meet her eyes so he looked out the window. He was beginning to tire from pummeling a defenseless opponent.
"Well look at you owning your shit. Bravo, princess."
The nickname echoed throughout the room like that of a lost loved-one's.
"I wouldn't take too much more time. If that brother of yours keeps reproducing, you'll be out of the Will completely."
Her lips twitched in amusement, but she didn't meet his gaze. They both felt the end of the conversation descend over them.
"I got places to be," he stood. "I'm not playing twenty questions, but you can ask me something if you want." She stayed seated, looking up at him. Smirking, he added, "Go on."
Her mouth opened, but she stayed silent as questions raced so rapidly across her mind that he could all but see them flying out of her head. She went to speak twice but stopped.
"Your window of opportunity is closing. Make it quick, Steph."
When she spoke, her voice was raspy, strained like the words were choking her.
"Did you ever love me?"
The shock paralyzed him. Then the anger rose steady and fast.
"THAT'S your question?"
She responded quickly to avoid a blow out.
"I just thought… the way we started – it was so messed up. And things moved so fast. I realized recently that I don't know when I started to feel that way about you," her eyes bore into his, begging him to understand. "So then I wondered when it happened for you, if you remembered. But then I didn't know if that was presumptuous?"
The question hung in the air. Hunter felt his knees shake. He fought the urge to drop to them. Almost half a minute passed before she realized that he wasn't going to reply.
Stephanie stood abruptly.
"Sorry. Forget it." A tear fell. She wiped it away hastily.
He stayed rooted to the spot, watching her walk around the desk to see him out. He wondered if this had all been a mistake. He felt no satisfaction in her unwillingness to cry in front of him.
"Is there anything else you needed?" She walked past him, resting a hand on the office door, ready for him to leave. Her strut had been quick, making her hair bounce. Her shampoo. She still used the same kind. It hit him like Chloroform. She was in his head again.
"Forgive me, Hunter."
Closure. Closure he could feel. Closure would make the anger go away. Closure would ease the pain. He wanted it. He stepped closer to her. She let go of the door handle, looking up to him confused. He backed her against the door. This kind of closure would work. It had to. He'd have her up against this wall and be done with it. No more nightmares.
Understanding spread across his ex-wife's face. He lowered his gaze to her mouth, slightly open from shock.
"You said you'd give me closure," he mumbled.
"Not like this," she whispered.
He was looking at her the way he looked at the championship. She looked frightened.
He stepped to her again. Their bodies just an inch apart, he rested his hands on her hips. Stephanie gasped at the contact but said nothing.
"Don't lie."
Hunter didn't wait for a reply. He dipped his head and kissed her mouth with a force that surprised even himself. His tongue pried open her lips to thrust against hers, his fingers flexed and squeezed her sides tightly. She whimpered against him and gripped the front of his buttoned shirt but didn't break the kiss. Her lips moved against his in perfect harmony. Like they always had.
He lost himself. Forgetting everything, he pulled her closer to him. His hands released their death grip on her hips so he could wrap his arms around her waist, making her flush against him. She tasted better than he remembered.
Though she kissed back, he felt her body gently resisting. She was arching away from him despite his hold on her. And a sound reached his ears. Stephanie grumbled into his mouth. But her lips stayed fused to his.
Releasing her lips, he kissed down her jaw to just below her ear. Gently, he caressed the soft skin and let out a small moan. She swayed a bit but then whispered, "I can't."
Despite her words, her neck arched, granting him more access. She wanted him. He could feel it. Her hands clutched onto him and her breathing was escalating. He lowered his mouth to her jugular, still suckling, before trailing his tongue down to just above her collarbone. He tasted salt. Her tears had followed the same trail as his tongue. This was killing her.
"No."
He didn't want to stop.
But if he didn't then he truly would be a monster.
He pressed a gentle, final kiss to her throat, and pulled away from her. His hands returned to her sides.
"It's the only thing I can't give you," she said. Her voice barely a whisper.
"Because it hurts?"
Stephanie screwed her eyes shut. He expected her to weep. Or at least throw a tantrum. She had always lashed out like an animal when in pain. But the outburst never came. Stephanie clenched her jaw and pulled her lips into her mouth, nodding affirmation to his words.
His façade cracked. For a split second, his fingers flexed, squeezing her hips once more. Shock and pain flashed across his face.
But then Stephanie's eyes opened and his cold demeanor returned. She searched his face for any sign of her husband. For the man she loved so much. For remorse. He offered her none so she blinked slowly, trying to stop the tears from falling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think I could hurt you." Her hands reached up to gently frame his face, caressing his cheeks, her eyes still boring into his. "I didn't think you cared."
She had apologized so many times. He didn't know why this one pierced him. But it did. Like a needle to the heart, the pain was direct and sharp. His features finally softened and her breath hitched at the sight. He cupped her face like she did his. Thumbs brushing away her tears, their breaths mingled, instantly in sync again as they stared at each other.
"I can't forgive you."
None of her tears were as sad as the smile that pulled at her lips.
"I know."
He traced the small grin with his right thumb, "I wish I could."
"It's okay," she whispered.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I want to stop. I think about you all the time. But then I remember and –"
Another tear slipped from her eye. He gulped.
"I understand, Hunter. It's okay."
And there it was. Closure. She selflessly gave him permission to hate her. To continue hating her. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. She stroked his cheeks so lovingly that all he wanted was for her to pull his head to her chest. For her to whisper that she loved him and to coddle him like she had the night he tore his quad.
Hunter rested his forehead against hers; his hands tilted her face upwards. He wanted to kiss her one last time. Properly. But he felt her features cringe, anticipating the pain he was about to bring to her. So he didn't. He let their heads lean together for another moment before pulling away.
He sniffled as he looked at the closed door behind her. Her hands ran down his face to rest against his pectorals, patting them gently twice before letting her arms fall to her sides. He stepped away from her completely. Stephanie moved to the side so he could leave her office, but he paused. Looking up, she eyed him questioningly.
"I cared, Steph." That devastatingly sad smile reappeared on her face. He stared into her eyes. "I loved you very much."
Her reaction captivated him. She once again looked like she would burst into tears but didn't. She pressed her left hand to her chest and then covered it with her right, as though she was preventing her heart from falling out onto the floor. She offered him another small smile of appreciation, finally hearing what she longed for. The image burned into his stinging eyes; a memory that would never fade.
Hunter walked out of the office without looking back. He closed the door quietly behind him and took a moment to compose himself. Her flamboyant assistant jumped from his desk to assess him, eyes darting from Hunter's daunting figure to his boss's office.
"She's okay," his voice was raw. Hunter cleared his throat. It alarmed the young man even further. "Give her a minute before you knock."
And with that he walked away. He knew it would take the remainder of the day to ease his emotions, but he was hopeful for a fresh start in the morning. In the elevator, he pressed a hand to his chest like she had done hers. He wasn't surprised when it did nothing to subdue the ache inside of him.