FULL NOVELXO Just Pretending: Chapter 22
I watched Harleigh storm away. She left me standing there in the park. I would never understand that woman. She knew we were getting a divorce as soon as our time together was over. She knew that last night and this morning had been nothing more than physical. She had to know that.
I watched from a distance, making sure she was picked up before leaving the damned park. This had been the wrong move. We should have sat down at a conference table and treated our discussion like the business meeting it was, and not some quality time together in a park. I only had my libido to blame for giving in to her suggestion.
That woman did things to my libido, that in turn, made me forget how to think logically. My caveman brain wanted her in my bed, where my wife belonged. But she was only my wife on paper, and only for a few more months.
I drove and I didn’t stop. With no destination in mind, I drove until it was dark, and the car needed gas. The stupid fuel indicator on the dash flashed, alerted me that I had less than forty miles before I ran out. I pulled into the nearest station and filled the tank.
As I navigated back toward my apartment I cranked the radio, letting music drown out any thoughts I might have. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to wonder why Harleigh thought that after everything that had happened between us that anything had changed. This marriage was still only about the will and the inheritance.
Classic rock with the bass turned up and made the windows buzz. My brain wasn’t left with a moment of peace for contemplation. But I couldn’t shake the memories of her in my arms. I didn’t want to think about why she was so angry about it. I had made my intentions clear enough.
I needed time away from her, time to clear my mind. Once I was back inside my apartment I threw my keys onto the low entry table. I went straight to the bar and grabbed an old fashioned. I had to go to the kitchen to find ice. I threw in a couple of ice cubes and, returning to the bar, added three fingers of whiskey. I tossed it back and filled my glass again.
Sitting back on the couch, I looked out at the lights of the city. The view and the convenient location had been one of the many excuses I had given myself for keeping the place. At the beginning of the marriage, I thought I would stay here a few nights a week. But once I was in the house, I didn’t see any reason to leave. Sitting in my living room felt almost alien, like a memory from a dream. The details were not quite right. Something important was missing that made this room my home.
I pulled out my phone and began texting Harleigh. I figured after this afternoon, she wasn’t going to want to talk to me.
“I left early for a trip. I’ll be gone for a few nights.” Telling her I was out of town was easier than telling her I was going to stay in my apartment for a bit. After all, I didn’t think she knew if I still had the apartment or not.
Maybe this was the exact reason I kept the place. I should have boxed everything up and terminated the lease, but I kept it knowing I would be back. I surged to my feet and paced through the rooms, drink in hand. I stopped in the bedroom. It was cold and lonely. There were no signs of Harleigh. She had never been in this bed. And for some fucked up reason, I thought that was a real shame.
Damn it. Standing in the bedroom brought back memories of how vibrant and responsive Harleigh was in my arms. I couldn’t escape her. I stormed out of the bedroom and flopped back onto the couch. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t still have this place.
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. I couldn’t shake Harleigh from my mind. Her beautiful face smiled at me, full lips and a pointy little chin. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through her dark golden hair. It was so silky, soft, smooth, and cool. My balls tightened.
“Fuck.” I wasn’t some teenager to get a hard-on over my imagination. Harleigh was turning my ability to function into crap. I pinched the bridge of my nose and got up. Maybe going for a run would help clear her out of my head.
I tossed what I needed into a gym bag. Looking at the ice melting in the drink I had a brilliant idea. Maybe I needed to remind myself that this marriage was only for the sake of the inheritance. I pulled out my phone and called someone I hadn’t seen in a while. Talking to someone else, no business, no wills, no fake wife, that’s what I needed. I needed conversation and a little perspective.
Twenty minutes later I sat at a bar waiting.
“Nicole.” I stood to greet her. She was tall and curvaceous. Her hair was chestnut brown and in a severe, short cut. I remembered her body being soft, yet her appearance seemed harsher. She packed her jiggle away under her clothes. Nicole had edges in her appearance and personality that didn’t seem familiar. Not like Harleigh, who wiggled as she moved, who embraced the undulations of her figure, and dressed to show them off.
Nicole leaned in for a quick kiss. I turned my attention so her lips grazed my cheek. I thought I wanted something from tonight. A renewed connection, proof that I didn’t have to end my previous social life because of a contractual marriage.
I nodded toward the bar. “What are you drinking?”
She ordered red wine, and I ordered more whiskey. I had no reason to change what was already working for me.
“I couldn’t believe you actually called me. What’s it been? Almost a year.”
I shrugged. It had been some time before the old man’s health hit the downhill slide that I had seen Nicole. “A lot was going on,” I said.
“Yeah, I heard. Your mentor passed. My condolences. How have you been holding up? I knew he was important to you.”
“Like a father,” I confirmed. “It’s been a mess dealing with the estate. The widow was pissed she only got stuck with what was outlined in the prenup. That has ended up causing some issues.”
“He always liked them young and blonde, right? I can’t imagine that this one is any different.”
“The old man definitely had a look he preferred. It seemed each new wife was younger than the one before. He aged, but his wives didn’t.” I chuckled.
“He was married to that famous model, the one who overdosed, right?” Nicole snapped her fingers a few times, trying to spark her memory. “Britney Scythe.” Nicole sounded triumphant, figuring out a name she could have asked me about.
“That was a long time ago,” I said. “They were no longer together when she overdosed.”
I took a slow sip of my drink. What was I doing? I shouldn’t be here, not with Nicole. Not with anyone other than Harleigh. I had agreed not to do this. Damn it, even when trying not to think of her, Harleigh was messing with my reason and logic. I knew better than to be sitting in a bar with another woman.
“Did you know her?” Nicole’s fingers suggestively ran up and down the stem of her wine glass.
I let out a heavy breath. This had been a bad call.
“I did. She was one of a kind. Look, Nicole, I wanted to let you know my situation has changed quite a bit.”
“Oh yeah?” She practically purred as she leaned in a way to show off maximum cleavage. “Did you inherit the business? I always thought you were in line.”
The more she leaned in, the more I sat back. “Yeah, I inherited the company. And I, ah, got married.”
I didn’t see her hand whip out, but it sure as hell stung as she slapped me.
“You snake. I told you, I don’t ever get involved with married men. Never Devin, not even with you.”
I rubbed at my stinging cheek. “I probably should have called and told you over the phone.”
“How about, you could have just forgotten about me forever. You ghosted me months ago, you should have stayed gone. Fuck you, Devin.”
She gathered her purse and left. She was right. I should have stayed away. I had left her without any closure to whatever it was we had. Was convenient, no commitment sex a relationship? The way we had left things didn’t exactly need closure. She hadn’t inquired into my life in the past months, I owed her no explanations. I never had given her any before.
I downed the rest of my drink and paid. I should go home, to the house, to my wife. I had a legal wife who I had told I would not go on a date or have an affair for a year, and I was out here having drinks with some woman I used to sleep with.
I was making rookie mistakes, thinking with my dick, and not using my brain. I ran my hand through my hair. I pulled my keys out and headed outside. I had entirely too much to drink to think clearly, but not so much that I realized I shouldn’t be driving.
I called a car and pulled my gym bag from the back of my car while I waited. Getting behind the wheel was a bad idea. But pounding out the miles on the treadmill seemed like a good one. I could sweat out the booze, and maybe beat some clarity into my head. Where had I gone wrong with Harleigh? Why were we fucking this up so badly?
Running while buzzed wasn’t nearly as effective as I had hoped. I wanted to sweat whiskey from my pours. I wanted thoughts of Harleigh gone. I couldn’t outrun them, no matter how hard I tried, or how fast I ran. I showered and changed at the gym, back into the clothes I had worn all day.
“Fuck,” I said when I remembered I hadn’t driven myself. Irritated with myself, I called another car.
I gave the driver my apartment address. I’d get my car in the morning. Stepping out of the car, I looked at the building. This no longer felt like home, Harleigh wasn’t up there.