42. Yasmeena
Chapter 42
Yasmeena
E nrique ripping up the divorce papers makes me want to question why he’s fighting this at all when this was going to be our end result. He thinks I’m fucking with his relationship status but I’m trying to give him back what he wants.
It shouldn’t be confused with me gaining a random emotion, it’s not. I’m thinking rationally as I’ve always done. He isn’t going to give me what I want and I see that now.
There’s no chance for me to reply as Emily, the answer to all his problems walks in, there’s a smug expression on her face and maybe it’s because she has something to do with this photoshoot/ interview but it won’t change a single thing. Maybe this is what others call a large or big gesture to get back what you lost.
My eyes watch Enrique as he sheds his t-shirt and the rest of his clothes leaving only his boxers on. He’s determined to not acknowledge that either one of us are in the room and that’s fine by me but it doesn’t change the fact that his body looks even more defined than it did a month ago. His abs, biceps, shoulders, even his legs. He has the outdoorsy body type now more, it works for him.
A sensation rides up my spine as the thought of touching him pops up in my mind intruding and it causes me to look away for a moment. I’ve never really thought about sex with Enrique past what we’re already doing but seeing him again changes these thoughts.
I can acknowledge that there is that oddness and emptiness that I once experienced when I was younger come back full force at the empty home I was staring at for the past month but in a way I should thank Enrique for prepping me on what to do once this is all said and done.
Once I’ve collected my thoughts, my eyes move to Emily who is openly watching Enrique as he gets dressed, I tilt my head wondering if I should say something since we still are married and I have to keep up the pretenses for those who are outside or could come into the dressing room any minute from now.
Standing, I move over to the mirror to take a final look at the outfit Francois suggested I go with for this. I check my makeup, make sure my hair is still maintaining the big bouncy curls it was put in. It feels weird looking at myself because I’ve never done this style before. It’s either straight or up but the stylist went with a blow out then added the bouncy curls. My hair texture is well maintained and the feeling of my hair brushing the small of my back isn’t unwelcomed.
My hands smooth out the tight leather dress that I’m shocked I can breathe in, everything is in place as my breasts sit up and are practically bursting out of the dress but not in a tacky way. The rest of the dress hugs my curves that have filled out a bit more due to my appetite picking up, my doctor says that's good even though things might change again. The split is a breath away from my bikini line, I turn a bit looking at the back of the dress which is backless all the way down to the small of my back showing off my back dimples when my hair is out of the way. I move my hair to the side to make sure everything is good, my eyes move back to Enrique as he puts on his belt, still shirtless.
My watching moves all the way up his naked chest to his eyes that are already watching me back. Neither of us are glaring at each other, just looking instead, something I explicitly denied wanting to do and opted for kissing. Our eye contact is broken when I realize from the corner of my eye that Emily is still lost in Enrique’s presence.
Knowing what I have to do, I walk to where Enrique is, placing a hand on his abdomen because one, my hand has a mind of its own and two, so Emily can remember where we all are.
“Is this what you do as a professional? Openly stare at my husband as he’s getting dressed?” I know my tone, it’s frigid and direct.
Emily opens her mouth to respond but nothing comes out. She clears her throat as if to say something but luckily, Francois walking in, saves her from whatever she was going to say.
“Are you ready, Darl–.” He stops talking and whistles, shaking his head. “I knew this would fucking work for you. We’re ready for you both, allons-y, ma cherie. ”
I smirk at Francois’s compliment and move my eyes back to Emily then Enrique.
“Hurry up.” As I walk away, my fingers linger, touching his body until they no longer can.
Francois offers his arm and I slip mine into his but then he lets go. He slips his hand in mine, lifting my arm up. “Twirl for me, Darling.”
Laughing, I twirl and he whistles again. “ Merde , I’m good at my job. Come on.” He puts my arm back where it was before and we walk away. I prepare myself to pretend to be in love with my husband when we got married so quickly and quietly.