My Biggest Mistake Page 10

  Silence fell between us as we stood in front of each other and stared, waiting for the other to make the first move. “How were they?” he asked, abruptly ending the standoff.

  “Very good. We sang the ABCs about a hundred and twelve times and then I taught Livvy how to tie shoes. She said she wanted shoes like mine but you wouldn’t get her any until she knew how to tie them. So I taught her and I promised I would take her some time this week to pick out a pair, as long as it’s all right with you.”

  Donnie nodded awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable in my living room. “Sorry I’m so late. The project took longer than we had expected. I’ll go ahead and get the kids out of here for you.”

  I quickly moved in front of him and held my hand to his chest. “No. There’s no need for that; they’re sleeping. Let them sleep. They are bathed and in PJs. They have their own beds, which they’re quite excited about. Don’t wake them up.”

  “They’ve never slept without me before. What if they wake up and I’m not here? They might get upset, and then what will you do?”

  It wasn’t the best option or the smarted suggestion, but I said, “Then stay here. You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “I’m not staying here, Edie,” he said in a firm voice.

  “Fine, but can you at least stay for a little bit so you can see for yourself that they are fine? I have some beer; would you like one to help you unwind?” Relief flooded me when his shoulders sagged some and he nodded.

  He walked down the hall to check on them first, fast asleep in their beds, while I grabbed two beer bottles out of the fridge. I had just opened both when he came back, looking at me with a surprised expression.

  “Yuengling, huh? I didn’t think you like this stuff.”

  “Well, I bought it once out of habit and figured I’d drink it. Turns out it’s not that bad.” That wasn’t the truth. Yes, I had bought it once without thinking, but I didn’t drink it because I had it. I drank it because it reminded me of him. I did a lot of things over the years to remind myself of Donnie…to feel closer to him in some way. Yuengling was one of the things.

  He smiled, raised his eyebrows, and took a pull from his bottle at the same time I took one from mine.

  “I’d suggest we sit on the patio, but the door won’t open. Well…it opens, it just gets stuck and then takes about twelve hours of pushing to get it back closed again.” I looked over at the sliding glass door as I explained it to him.

  Donnie set his bottle on the counter and walked over to the door, looking closely at the top and then at the bottom. He flipped on a switch to a light in the empty area that would hold a kitchen table if I had one, and then started messing with the door.

  Once he got it open, he took his work shirt off, leaving him in only his white undershirt and black slacks. He squeezed between the door and the wall until he was outside. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I was pretty sure he had broken it once one of the panes of glass lifted off the track. I had no idea they did that and it worried me. He flipped the door on its side and then walked back in.

  “I have WD-40 if you need it. I bought some to fix it but it didn’t work. Then again, I didn’t take the door apart to use it.” I felt sheepish as I stood there, watching Donnie with all of his glorified muscles working on my broken door like old times.

  “I’ll take that and a broom if you have one. The track is really dirty. That’s why it was getting hung up. If I can just clean it out and grease it back up it’ll be like brand new again.”

  I brought him everything he asked for and then stood there for almost fifteen minutes, watching him fix the door. In the past, I never cared to watch him do things around the house. I stayed away as he fixed or replaced things. I hadn’t realized how hot it was to watch him work. Knowing I wouldn’t get that chance again, I studied him, paying careful attention to the way his shirt rode up on his stomach, giving me a peek at the hard muscles beneath it. I finished an entire beer while standing there, just to give my mouth something to do as it watered relentlessly.

  He had it all cleaned out and back on the track, opening it and then closing it to show me that it worked. And he was right; it was like new…better than new. It made no noise as it effortlessly slid on the track, opening and closing without a sound.

  With the first real smile I’d seen on his face, he stood back, proudly analyzing his work. His undershirt had come completely untucked from his pants and his hands were black from grease, which had left a smear on his forehead after scratching it. No words were spoken as he looked from the door to me and then back to the door; I guess he’d been looking for a compliment, but my mind was a useless jumble full of unspoken desires by that point, and I knew I couldn’t offer up anything that made sense.

  He walked to the sink—again, in silence—and washed his hands. I used the time to grab myself another beer from the fridge and stood a bit too long in the door, needing the cold air to cool off my warming temperature.

  “Would you like to go to the patio now?” he asked from behind me. His deep voice ran though me and settled into parts that hadn’t been used in forever. It was like a warm summer’s breeze that crept in through an open window, settling on my skin and coating it with light sheen of morning dew. That’s what his voice did to me…amongst other things.

  “Uh, sure.” I finally pulled myself from the opened fridge door and followed him outside to the glass table Nancy had left behind when she had moved out.

  There were only three chairs left, which meant he had no choice but to sit next to me, even though there was a considerable space between our seats. Awkwardness filled the night air around us while tension filled my body. I didn’t know what to say to him or even how to act. It seemed as though he felt the same way.

  “Listen,” I started, breaking the award-winning silent streak we had going on, “I really appreciate you letting me have the kids today. That meant a lot to me that you trusted me with them. We had so much fun. I hope this can be a regular thing.”

  He shrugged his shoulder as he took a drink from his bottle, staring at the label as he swallowed. “I was kinda stuck. Beth is out of town and I didn’t have anyone else.”

  My appreciative mood began to wane, leaving me with a bubble of anger rising to the surface. I pushed it back down, knowing I didn’t want to ruin the calm mood we seemed to be in at the moment. “Well, regardless, it meant a lot to me.”

  He turned his face to me and stared. The light from the moon lit up his features like a spot light, making it painstakingly obvious how perfect and gorgeous he was. But aside from the beauty, there was worry—or hesitation—etched on his face.

  “I like your hair,” he muttered, almost whispering.

  I reached up and pulled on a strand, feeling slightly self-conscious. “Thanks. I got it done earlier this week.” I wondered why he’d just now said something. It was clear I had done something with it since it was now a rich brown instead of my natural color.

  “I meant to tell you that when you were over for dinner, but I guess it slipped my mind. But it looks good; it reminds me of how you used to wear it after we got married.”

  “Well, I like your scruff,” I admitted, feeling as if I needed to dole out a compliment as well. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with that much facial hair. You let it go once on our honeymoon but shaved after a couple days.”

  He scratched his jawline and smiled, looking down at the table between us. “I guess we’ve both changed a lot over the last couple of years. You seem happy, Edie. Well…you know what I mean. You don’t seem so lost anymore. Are you happy?”

  Am I happy? Did he really just ask me that? The man took me to the sandpit, which was now a pine tree forest, and told me he wanted me to let him go, that I had destroyed him. And he had the balls to ask me if I was happy? I wanted to give him a piece of my mind; I wanted to shout at him and tell him just how unhappy I was, but I decided against it. I’m sure his question was rhetorical, so I decided to just let
it go and give him the answer he more than likely sought.

  “Happier than I was before I left, yes. But there’s still a lot more for me to do to find real happiness again. I was happy today, with the kids. Making them dinner and watching movies with them, cleaning them up and getting them ready for bed made me happy.”

  “So you had things here for them? Food and clothes I mean?”

  “Yes, Donnie. They have their own beds with their own bedding sets, I got them some pajamas and regular clothes—not much but some—and I went to the grocery store earlier in the week and bought them some food. I may have been gone for a while, but I do still know how to care for my children.” My words came out with a little more attitude than I had anticipated, but it was necessary. He needed to know that I wasn’t a doormat; he couldn’t take his anger out on me forever.

  “Do you have any idea how conflicted I am right now?” he asked, yet his tone sounded more angry than conflicted. “I want to keep the kids from you so that you know the kind of hurt and pain you’ve caused all of us. But at the same time, I want you to be just as involved in their lives as I am because you’re their mother and they need you. I’m fighting with the selfish need to punish you while struggling with the overwhelming need to forgive you.”

  Donnie abruptly stood from his seat, not giving me the chance to respond to his statement. Without a glance in my direction, he headed back inside, leaving the slider open behind him. I didn’t know what he was doing, hoping he wasn’t getting the kids up and taking them home, but I couldn’t do anything other than sit there and drink heavily from my beer.

  Just as I swallowed my last sip, Donnie came back out with a bottle of tequila and two Solo cups. I didn’t have any shot glasses and God only knew how long I’d had that bottle of tequila. I don’t really remember buying it, but I do remember thinking on several occasions about how I should open it and drink some…but I never did.

  “The hard stuff? What, beer wasn’t working for you anymore?” I asked, trying to tease him so that he wouldn’t see how unbelievably nervous I felt around him.

  “I want real answers, and from what I remember, you only give them when you’ve had the hard stuff…or a bottle of wine, but I didn’t see any of that in the kitchen.” He started pouring the clear liquid into the cups and then pulled out a plastic lemon and salt shaker from his pocket. “Sorry, you didn’t have any real lemons, but I did find some lemon juice.”

  I was stunned in silence, not having the slightest idea of where to start. He said he wanted real answers from me, but that’s all I had been giving him. What kinds of things did he want to know? He was right about the liquid courage—it was pretty much the only time he knew I would spill my guts with no hesitation. But I wasn’t ready for that yet. It terrified me to think I would open up too much and tell him things he was ready to hear—things I wasn’t ready to tell him, if ever.

  “This is how we are going to play this. We are going to start off small,” he began, as if giving me the rules to some college-aged drinking game. “We will ask each other anything, and if we’re not ready to answer or can’t give the most honest answer, we drink. Do you think you can do this?”

  I nodded, even though it was a lie.

  “And one more thing…if I feel like you’re not giving me the most honest answer, you have to drink twice. It’s up to you how many shots you take. This isn’t about getting drunk, it’s about being honest with each other.”

  “Okay. Fine. Let’s do this,” I said, leaning into the table from my seat to prepare myself for this horrible idea of his. “I go first… Do you still love me?”

  He swallowed the liquid in one gulp, not bothering with the salt or the lemon. It hurt that he didn’t even bother pretending to want to answer. “My turn,” he said after blowing out a breath. “Are you here for good? And I mean, is there any reason you might leave again? Any reason at all? Job, relationship, fear…anything.”

  Without hesitation, I answered. “No. No reason, no chance, no way am I ever leaving again.” I stared at him as I spoke, not batting an eye because what I said was the truth. “My turn. Do you love Beth?”

  Again, he poured more tequila into his red plastic cup and tipped it back, swallowing all of it. He shook his head and then looked at me. “Why did you come back?”

  “Because I made a mistake and I need to make it right.”

  He gave me a sideways glance, as if he didn’t believe me.

  “That’s the honest to God’s truth, Donnie. I came back because I need my family. I came back for those three angels inside and you. Seems as though I can’t have you back, but I need them.”

  He nodded slowly, reluctantly accepting my answer.

  “Is there any part of you that wants me back?” I asked, feeling brave for some reason.

  It looked like he was about to answer me, but then decided to take another shot instead. And that’s how the next thirty minutes went. He asked me questions that I answered truthfully, things I had pretty much already told him, but it seemed he hadn’t been ready to believe me quite yet, and then I’d ask questions that he wouldn’t give me answers to. He did answer a few, but those were easy ones, like “are you mad I’m back,” to which he answered with, “yes.”

  “I have to take a piss,” he said and stood up to head inside.

  I watched him walk away, checking to see how drunk he was. He walked fine, which surprised me after all he had to drink, but he had always been one to handle his liquor. Way better than I ever could. I was sure he was buzzed, but he didn’t seem as drunk as most people would have been after that much tequila.

  While he was gone, I decided to clean up the mess on the table. We were done playing. If he wouldn’t give me any answers, then I was done giving him mine. I knew I owed him more than he owed me, but there was no sense in being completely truthful with him if he was going to continue being vague with me.

  After putting everything away inside, I walked back out to the patio to wipe off the table. Out of nowhere, hands gripped my hips and startled me. I couldn’t turn around because of the hard grasp he had on me, pulling me back and into his firm chest.

  I was either dreaming or some sexy neighbor was about to fulfill my every fantasy. Just as long as that sexy neighbor lived across the street and came with three beautiful children.

  Hot breath landed on my neck just before warm and heartbreaking words found their way to my ear. “Are you eating, Edie? You’re so thin. I don’t ever remember you being so thin before. You need to take care of yourself.”

  His whispered words came out so fast I didn’t have a chance to speak. He didn’t give me time to answer any of his questions before continuing with his heartfelt lecture. It was true, though; I hadn’t been eating much. I couldn’t eat much. It wasn’t like I starved myself to lose weight; I simply didn’t have an appetite most days. Depression was something I still battled with, except it was a different kind from what drove me away. The depression I now dealt with was from being gone.

  His hands moved under my shirt and flattened on my stomach as my head fell back onto his collarbone. My eyes drifted closed as I tried to burn that memory into my mind, knowing it probably wouldn’t happen again. His hot breath was still at my ear, filling it with heat every time he took a breath, which sounded more labored than my own.

  “Where’s the curves I love so much? Huh, Edie? Where’d they go?” he asked as his hands traveled over my bare skin, moving from the outside of my hipbones to the center of my belly. “Where are the curves Livvy gave you? The ones the boys gave you?”

  I was about to stop him; tears started to prick the backs of my eyes and I didn’t know how much more I could’ve handled before breaking down like a child who just lost her puppy. But before I could do or say anything to stop him, his right hand moved beneath the elastic waistband of my cotton shorts while his other hand moved up to my chest, groping at my bare breast.

  I let out a low moan, unable to keep it in as his hands explored parts of my bo
dy that I never thought he’d touch again. I thought I was about to collapse as his finger moved between my slit, spreading my excitement to the aching nub. With slight pressure, he began to move his finger in a slow, tortuous motion, causing me to gasp out into the night air.

  Just as he had me trembling, he pushed a finger inside, cursing under his breath. I pushed my body into his, feeling his own excitement against my lower back, only separated by a few layers of clothing.

  His hand abruptly pulled out of my shorts, leaving behind a chilly sensation, as if a cold breeze blew up my shorts and only landed in one spot. I started to say something, but was stopped short when he began to kneel behind me. His fingers hooked beneath the elastic as he slowly pulled my shorts down, stopping just as the waistband hit my thighs, leaving me bare in the open. I was helpless to do anything as his large hands took hold of my flesh and squeezed, clearing the air from my lungs.

  If that wasn’t torturous enough, he decided to taunt me even more by sinking his teeth into one cheek as he held it in his hand, giving him enough flesh to bite. I tried to squeal, but it came out as more of an airy groan than anything. My body had been lit up like the sky on Fourth of July, burning and sizzling at every touch. With each movement he made, he set my nerves on fire, centralizing the chaos in one spot…the aching spot between my legs that begged for more of his attention. As if he were in tune with my body, knowing exactly what it needed, he spread my legs slightly and ran a finger back to the throbbing center, pressing into me again. There was more grasping, firmer biting, and harsher pumps with his finger as I began to lose control, feeling the dampness in the air settle on my flesh as he took me higher and higher.

  But just before he let me fall off that cliff of ecstasy, he stopped everything and pushed my shorts all the way down in one fell swoop. His hand came down on my ass cheek with a loud clap in the otherwise silent air, and left me leaning against the glass top of the table to keep from falling over.

  I couldn’t breathe, and seconds felt like hours as he made his way back to a standing position behind me. As he stood, though, he hooked his hand beneath my right knee, bringing it up until it was propped on the table next to me, opening myself up for him. I knew he was probably drunker than I had given him credit for and wanted to stop him, but my body wouldn’t let me. The lower half of me fought with the upper half, waging a war within. I needed to stop him before we both regretted taking it too far, but there was this raw need that ran through our bodies like electricity from a live wire. I needed Donnie and he needed me…even if it would leave us scorched and burned in the end.