Desperate, Part 2 (fm:adultery, 1362 words) [2/3] show all parts

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So many times, she had longed for his touch, or even just a reassuring word, and received nothing more than a laundry list of his comings and goings.

Gone was the man who had seemed strong, capable, and stable. He was another in a long list of weak, cowardly liars. She wondered if there was a mold that cheaters popped out of. They all seemed identical, to her, and had probably existed since before man walked upright.

She had learned to power through endless days, under her own steam. It was cold and exhausting, completely unfulfilling, and Chloe realized that she had been divorced for all that time. All she lacked were the legalities to lay this corpse in its grave.

Chloe tiptoed down to her home office, where she had spent many hours writing fantasies, to supplement her insufficiency. Achieving novels and accolades in her field hadn't filled the void. She thumbed through shelves, in chronological order of publication, and checked the copyright date on her first book. That checks out. It was 2018, she thought, How did I never make the connection before?

At midnight her phone rang, and her heart leapt.

"Aaron, hi."

"Hi Chloe, are you okay?"

"Yes, I miss you like crazy, but I'm okay."

"Me too, love. I need to feel you in my arms. Can you sneak out for a few minutes?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm parked behind the dunes, a few blocks from your house."

"I want to, but I just showered. I'm in a long t-shirt."

"I'll park next to your house. Just let me kiss you. Spare a moment, and I'll be on my way."

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

Chloe killed the porch light and stepped out onto the patio. She spied his truck, parked in the shadows, and she ran to him, and leapt into his arms. "Aaron, this is reckless and dangerous!"

"Shut up and kiss me, Chloe."

He inhaled her, freshly bathed, smelling faintly of something delicious, and he wanted to devour her. Mixed with the red t-shirt, which barely reached her thighs, he found it intoxicating. He cradled her in his arms and she cautioned, "If we keep this up, we're going to be discovered."

"I don't care. Come home with me. Just leave him behind and come away with me."

"I can't, Aaron. Oh God, I want to, but I can't. I have to stay and file for divorce. If I don't, I'm no better than him. It's the right thing to do."

Everything in her was pleading with the powers that be and, mentally, she was packing her bags and running to join Aaron.

"I understand," he whispered, raggedly. "You're wrong. I think it's ill-advised. If he finds out, it will break his pride. There's no telling what he would do to you."

"I know but, right now, I'm not in danger. He doesn't even suspect, and I have to take responsibility for this."

"I can't, Chloe. I can't let you go back inside, not knowing if you're safe."

"There's no choice. I have to. I just got an advanced on my next novel, so I'll call an attorney in the morning. I promise."

Aaron kissed her softly. "Please come with me."

"Soon, I may say yes. Are you prepared for that?"

"I've been prepared for that since the day we met."

Okay then, for now, I have to go back and see this through."

Aaron took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "As long as you never walk away from your phone. If anything happens, I'm a phone call away."

"I know," she breathed against his cheek. "Now, I have to go inside. You'll call me tomorrow?"

"Count on it."

Aaron set her back on her feet and watched her retreat into the house. He didn't like this, not one bit, and he cursed himself, I should have made off with her while I had the chance. I don't think she knows what's good for her.

Chloe stepped inside and shut the door, wondering if she should have reconsidered. She wanted to turn and run back to him, and again, she realized she was desperate.

Aaron climbed into his truck and drove home, unable to shake the disquiet gripping his soul. He let himself in and stood on the balcony overlooking the garden. He inhaled the night-blooming jasmine, thinking that Chloe's scent was very similar, but he couldn't place it. After a long moment, he thought of the tapioca pudding his mother used to make, and he smiled, thinking, vanilla.

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Hook writes Fri 18 Jul 2025 19:14:

And the plot thickens...Find myself eager for the next part(s). Well written!

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