Chicago, March 2013
He gave one more thrust before he fell on top of her, panting.
There were no words to say. They had just committed adultery. What were they thinking? What was he thinking? This was all his fault.
It takes two to tango.
True, but he was the one who initiated it. She was vulnerable. She needed comfort. And he screwed her over, literally. He wanted to run but her arms were wound around his neck, stroking his nape.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He snuggled deeper into her chest. Maybe if he buried himself deep enough, he'll disappear.
"Could you stop thinking?" she finally said. "This is all on me. I'm the one that came over. Stop feeling guilty."
He couldn't. She was married for crying out loud. It was wrong and yet there was a sense of poetic justice to this. As if the universe had finally thrown him a gift. It was in the way that she played with his hair and the feeling of satisfaction as he listened to her heartbeat slowing down.
Thaddeus had come home after a long day from work, eager to chow down his take out. Instead, he found the heiress to the Lloyd fortune, crying on his sofa. She had told him in broken sobs that she had suspected for some time that he husband wasn't being faithful. A strewn plane ticket for two had confirmed it. At least that was the story he pieced together, from what he could make out from her blubbering.
He took her in his arms. He told her everything was going to be alright. And then… she looked up at him with doe eyes.
And kissed him.
Deep. Passionate. A kiss to forget.
It progressed to the bedroom. They suddenly had too many clothes on. Quick hands and even quicker eyes roamed bodies. It was rough and uninhibited, wild and unthinking. They haven't been thinking. He had let his friend down below do the thinking for him and now he was fucked. If her husband finds out…
"He's not going to find out."
"How the hell are you reading my mind?" he snapped, the afterglow of the lovemaking quickly vanishing.
She laughed. It vibrated through his head. "I know how you are."
It was quiet after that. He listened to her steady breathing. He thought she had fallen asleep until she started speaking.
"Do you remember what you said before I got married?" she whispered.
"Yeah. I do," he said, unsure of where this was going. There was a pit forming in his stomach.
He heard her sigh. "I thought about it. Again and again. It haunted me. I wish you never said it."
"I can't take it back." Or rather, he won't. Why is she bringing this up?
"But do you stand by it?" she asked, her tone hopeful.
He swallowed the sadness brought on by the memory.
"Yes."
"You sure?"
"Positive," he said flatly, starting to get up. He glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30. His dinner had been forgotten. His stomach reminded him once again that he needed to eat.
"What if…" she continued.
He made his way to the kitchen. He didn't want to hear the made up scenarios. There was only now and what had been. There were footsteps that followed him.
"If I didn't mar–"
"But you did."
He opened the fridge to dig around for his food.
"Well, let's just say hypothetically that I didn't. What do you thi–"
"Rhonda," he said as he slammed the fridge. The sound echoed in his apartment. "Just. Can you be quiet for a second? I really need to think."
"I see." Her tone was cold. It was tycoon's daughter voice. The one that she used when she meant business and wasn't pleased.
He rubbed his face. This night was going downhill anyway. Might as well.
"You're upset with your husband because he cheated on you–"
"Great job, detective."
"–but I think you're just lashing out. You're not going to leave him. In fact, you're going back to him tomorrow morning. Either that or kiss your inheritance goodbye, right? Wasn't that the deal?"
She looked like he might as well have slapped her. Good. She needed a reality check. Not for him to expand her fantasies. There was no them. There never was. This was a fluke. A one time thing.
Her voice cracked, "I would have picked you."
She also knew how to hit him where it hurt the most. They had known each other too long and too deeply to expect less.
"I know," he whispered. "That's why you need to go back."
The first few tears fell then. Soon, she was sobbing. But when he came closer to comfort her, she held her hand out.
"No. I'll dry them myself. Thank you very much."
That was all she said before she picked up her things, got dressed and left his apartment.
He didn't feel like eating anymore.