Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“I know that. But the longer we do this, the harder it gets. Maybe we should have followed the plan and stopped fucking once we returned to Chicago.”
It was hardly more than that at this point. We couldn’t go on dates anymore. We had to meet in dark corners with flimsy excuses. What had felt like something more, like… fuck… like dating in Paris now felt like a shady affair.
Anna closed her eyes. “I don’t want to stop what we have, I already miss what we had and can’t have in Chicago.”
I leaned down and buried my nose in her hair. “Six more months, then you’ll be Clifford’s.”
“But I’m not his yet, not now. I’m yours.”
“Mine,” I echoed. “But only for a little while.”
“Isn’t it better than never having what we had and still have?”
I wasn’t sure.
Carving out time for each other was near impossible now that Anna’s social responsibilities grew leading up to the wedding. In the last four weeks since our arrival in Chicago, we’d managed to fuck in the car four times and once at the party. That was it.
We rarely had time to talk. I’d have never thought I’d miss talking to a woman, but I actually missed our conversation when we lay awake in Paris the most.
After another quickie in the car on the way to a floral shop for the wedding, Anna and I allowed ourselves a few minutes of each other’s company on the back seat.
“Do you have plans for the future?” Anna asked suddenly. I peered down her head where it rested against my chest.
“What kind of plans?” I’d given up making plans since things with Anna started, but even before then I’d preferred to live in the moment, which was wise considering my life choices.
Anna tilted her head to look at me. “Don’t you ever want to marry and have kids? You’re over thirty now.”
Was she being serious? I glared. “Maybe once you’re married. As long as I’m fucking you, it seems unwise to find a wife for myself. My life’s on hold for you.”
Anna pushed up into a sitting position, her face twisting. “As if a wife would stop you from fucking me.”
“If I have a wife, I’ll be faithful.”
Anna seemed surprised. “You’ve turned several women into cheaters.”
“I didn’t turn them into anything. They were looking for fun outside of their marriage and I offered them fun.”
Anna nodded but she still looked confused. “So you’re holding off with marriage because of me?”
Was she playing dumb on purpose? My entire life had been on hold these last three years. Everything had revolved around her, her future. I rolled on top of her again. “Every fucking thing I’ve done these last few years has been because of you Anna. You are the goddamn sun I’m circling.”
Anna’s eyes softened. “You can’t put your life on hold for me. I’ll marry Clifford. I can’t be yours. Maybe you should start looking for someone to marry.”
Was that really something she wanted? Me to find someone else? I settled between her legs and slowly eased into her. Her lips parted as she exhaled.
“You’re mine for the time being. That’s enough.”
It wasn’t, and that sad fact became more apparent every passing day. I wanted Anna.
It was my evening off and I decided to meet with Arturo, canceling a dinner with Dad and Frederica last minute. I knew they’d only try to question me on my affair with Anna. I didn’t want to hear their advice. I’d given up being reasonable when Anna was concerned.
Arturo was the man for being unreasonable and when I wanted to avoid getting asked questions about my emotions.
I rode my Camaro to Arturo’s place. I’d missed it while being in Paris and even now I rarely got the chance to drive it. When I pulled up in front of Arturo’s place, he was already outside in the abandoned alley.
I got out and joined him. “Hey, how are you?” I clapped his shoulders, which only got me a brief aghast look and no answer.
Arturo motioned at a stack of packages waiting beside the door. I picked up one, which was surprisingly heavy. I followed Arturo, who carried a smaller box, into the back of his loft—it was really just a warehouse that he’d picked as his housing, probably because out here in the industrial district nobody listened to odd occurrences. I put the package down on the kitchen counter, all stainless steel. I wasn’t sure if Arturo had ever used it for cooking. It reminded me of a morgue. “What did you order? Bricks?”
Arturo opened his package, revealing spiked dog collars and something that looked like a machine to put tags into cow ears. Mine held kettlebells. No wonder it was so heavy. “I don’t suppose you order this because you’re getting a dog, start working on a farm or install a home gym?”