Prompt: scooter

As promised, EPOV

Big thanks to sncmom for reading on the spot for content.

It's late Saturday morning, too hot for early May, and my shirt clings to my back from sweat. Jack's tongue hangs from the side of his mouth as he pants. He peers up at me with those soulful eyes of his. "Good boy," I tell him and scratch behind his ears. He straightens his stance—always so proud. Jack is eighty pounds of fur, muscle, and heart, and the old guy works hard to keep up with Sparrow on our runs each morning. She's dancing around my legs, waiting for her scratch too.

We stopped at the park to rest, and sitting on one of the shaded benches, I tip my water bottle down, alternating between Jack and Sparrow, giving them each enough to drink to tie them over until we get home. Normally, I wouldn't keep Jack out on such a long run, but my head has been elsewhere.

I can't stop thinking about Bella, and how I need to let go. I wonder if she's read the email I sent last night.

From the first time I met Bella I've been drawn to her. Every basic conversation we have, the silent recognitions when I know she's thinking the exact same thing as me…she gets me, never needing an explanation, she understands. But it's not even that; I get her, too.

Then, of course, there's the physical part: she's beautiful. And she has no clue she is, either, which makes her that much more attractive.

Even after five years of working with her, my senses haven't dulled one bit. I'd have thought the pull would've lessened by now, that I'd get used to seeing her every day, but I haven't and I'm an asshole.

I was dating Leah when I met Bella but she was married. Right before Bella split with her husband, I married Leah. I have no regrets. I love Leah, but there are a lot of times I ask what if. See? Asshole.

Kids race by on scooters, and Jack goes on full alert, Sparrow attempting to imitate his awareness. Though he's still lying on the ground, his ears perk while his head lifts, she sits tall. I can feel her tug at her leash, the need to just go because all she wants to do is run and play—she's still a puppy, technically—but she's mindful of Jack, doesn't budge an inch.

"Good girl, Sparrow." Once the kids are out of sight we start to head home.

"Come out with us, babe!" Leah shouts from the bedroom.

"What? With you and your girls from the bank? You know you only want me to go so you'll have a designated driver."

"Nah. Emily doesn't drink," she says, coming around the corner in a little black dress. "Come. It'll be fun."

Leah slips between me and the counter. She takes the knife and sets it down next to the peppers I've chopped. The towel draped over my shoulder is next, and smiling like she's up to something, she wipes my hands then puts them on her hips.

"Not hungry?"

"Oh, I'm hungry." Her hands slide up my chest and around my neck.

"I see."

"Come on, babe," she says, kissing my throat. "We have a whole hour before I leave."

"Wait, I thought we were having dinner. I thought you weren't going out until later."

"No, I told you. Dinner then drinks."

"I don't remember."

"Shocking."

She presses up against me, moves my hand to her ass.

"You're gonna get all wrinkled."

"Don't care," she mumbles against my neck, pushing her hips against me. "Come on."

We're all lips and tongue while walking toward the bedroom, Leah undressing me along the way. She unzips her dress, lets it drop to the floor then falls back on the bed.

"Take me, you beast." She laughs.

I jump on her, mostly the mattress, the headboard knocking against the wall. She stretches her neck to kiss me, both of us wildly ridding our bodies of what clothing still remains. My heart pounds, she's breathing heavily, and I want to. I want to be with my wife, but there's one small problem.

"Why aren't you…Edward?"

"It's okay. Give me a minute."

"Let me help."

"No, I've got this."

We're both trying, really trying but it's no use. This has never happened to me before. Ever.

She sighs, gets off the bed and slips back into her dress. "It's okay, babe. It happens, I guess."

"You guess?" I say, pulling my arms through my t-shirt. "No, it definitely does not just happen."

"Edward, relax. It's not like you've got to run out and buy Viagra."

"Funny."

Leah rolls her eyes and sits beside me on the bed. "I'm kidding," she says. "I love you. I wouldn't care if that's what it took now or twenty years from now. It's probably for the best anyway—I was going to ask you to wear a condom and I know how much you hate them."

"What? Why?"

"Forgot to take my pill this morning, but don't worry, I took it a little while ago."

"Leah, a few hours wouldn't make a difference."

"Well, yes it could, and I'm not taking any chances. We're sticking to the plan: no kids until I'm thirty." She stands, walks to the mirror and brushes her hair.

Leah believes that life be dictated by plans. Map everything out in yearly increments. House, kids, retirement. She's got it all figured out.

I'm not entirely convinced, though. "Things change, Leah. Would it be so bad to have a kid now? What if you can't get pregnant right away? I don't want to be an old man when he or she graduates high school. What's wrong with a little spontaneity every once in a while?"

"Spontaneously deciding to have a child is a bad idea, Edward," she says.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Shave off a year. Six months. Hell, why not start trying next month? Why do we have to wait three years?" The words just fall out of my mouth; I don't want kids right now. One day, absolutely. But Leah never bends and it drives me crazy, so I push her.

She sets down her brush and looks at me through the mirror. "Because I don't want any regrets."

It's midnight and Leah hasn't come home yet. No calls or texts. Not a word. I didn't ask her to elaborate what she meant about regrets, but I know she wasn't referring to timing.

I'm fucking things up with her—my whole heart isn't here where it should be, with Leah, and I know this is why I couldn't do anything with her earlier. Jesus. I fucking hope that's the only reason.

She deserves for me to get my head out of my ass, and I have to try.

Sparrow whines by the front door, so I take her and Jack out one more time before bed. Trying to wake up Jack requires some effort, and I can't begin to fathom that he probably only has a few years left with me. Refuse to comprehend is more like it. I've had him since he was ten weeks—we've been through a lot together.

Jack finds his spot on the floor as soon as we come back inside, and Sparrow hops up on the couch next to me. Leah will kill me if she finds any hair on the cushions, and I really don't want to get into with her.

"Down, girl," I tell her. She hesitates. "Down." She obeys then lies next to Jack.

I should wait up for Leah to come home. She'd like that, I think. To know I cared that she got home safely. Of course, I do, I mean…why wouldn't I?

Another twenty minutes and still no Leah. I wonder if I should text her, but I don't want her to think I don't trust her. I decide to wait a little longer.

Flipping through the channels, I stop on an old Seinfeld episode. It's the one about the soup Nazi, and I smile, thinking how bad Bella's accent is when she says, "No soup for you!"

Lights flash through the window followed by a car door slamming, and I jolt upright.

Leah walks in, spots me on the couch and crinkles her eyebrows together. "Still up?" she asks, locking the door behind her.

"Yeah. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay."

"Oh, well, I did. How was your night? Ugh, Edward. Seinfeld again? Don't you get tired of watching the same shows over and over?" She tosses her purse in a chair then flops next to me.

"Not really. Have fun?"

She yawns. "Mmhm. You missed a good time." She kisses my cheek. "I'm off to bed. Night."

Leah's up quickly; I don't stop her. "Night."

The television sounds too loud suddenly and subtle traces of alcohol and perfume linger where Leah was sitting. I like her perfume; it's fruity. I can hear her rummaging through our bathroom. Shadows sporadically alter at the end of the hall from her switching lights on and off, and then it's dark and silent.

I'm not tired. I should crawl into bed with Leah, but I'm not tired and all my tossing and turning will keep her awake. I'll wait another few minutes.

But if she wanted me to come to bed, wouldn't she have asked?

A couple more minutes, and I'll go.

I flip through infomercials, Saturday Night Live, ESPN, but nothing holds my attention.

Five more minutes.

I emailed Bella last night from home. Leah was out running errands, and I felt as though I was cheating even though what I'd written was anything but romantic. It was an apology for doing something I didn't know I'd done, and to let her know if anything was bothering her that she could talk to me. It was sincere in the friendliest manner.

It took less time to compose that email than it did for me to switch on my computer. Easy. So why, thirty minutes after my wife is home can I not get off this couch to be with her?

I'm going to try harder.

I open up my laptop, find the sent email then retract and delete it.

As always, thank you for reading. No prompt on Sundays so I'll see you Monday.