Chapter 11
Shannon
Iwatch the tracking app on my phone to see when my delivery is close.
It’s not necessary, of course. By now, I know the window of time in which Hudson will be by, but I’m nervous.
I’d ordered this stuff before our rendezvous at the lake and it feels like things changed then.
Hudson almost opened the door to the closet currently hiding every last one of my skeletons.
Including the one marked by my desire for him.
If he gets it open, I fear I’ll never get it shut again and I’ll have to face all the decaying hopes, dreams, and desires that are laying inside right next to my shame, guilt, and lust.
My heart races as I watch out the window for the familiar truck to pull up. It’s both incredible and disturbing how much I look forward to the three minutes Hudson graces my doorstep.
For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget what his mouth-watering body looked like as my daughter clung to his chest.
I hear the door on the back of his truck roll up and I break out in a sweat.
Serafina’s not asleep, but she’s content watching an old Scooby Doo movie, playing with her foam letters in her bouncy-chair. We didn’t take our walk today so she’s not running low on energy, but I no longer mind her waking hours like I once did.
When Hudson comes around the back of the truck, all the blood vacates my brain, making me so dizzy I have to brace myself with a hand on the doorframe.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly as he takes the stairs to the porch two at a time, the forbidden interaction kicking my libido into overdrive.
Is he really this fucking gorgeous or is it just the excitement and the danger making me feel this way?
I get my answer as soon as he opens his mouth. “Hey, Shannon,” he replies, his voice low as he pulls the scanner and pen from his belt with one hand while holding the box containing my lingerie with the other. He’s guarded today, just like me.
I sign quickly and return the device, waiting for him to place the box in my hands. The company’s stamp is on the front and although it’s discreet, most people recognize the brand name.
“I hope everything in that box is crimson. It’s your color for sure.” Before I can say anything, he adds, “I’ve got to run. See you around.”
It feels like goodbye, which is ridiculous because we never really had a hello. So why am I so torn up over it? I stand on my porch with my box in my hands as he slams his truck door closed, gives me a wave, and drives away.
I blame the tears on the emotions I’m still trying to regulate after having Serafina. It only takes me a moment to recognize the familiar feeling for what it actually is: disappointment.
Would I ever actually leave Gregor? Probably not. He’s the father of my child. Would I cheat on him? I honestly don’t believe I have that in me, either.
But watching Hudson drive away with the freedom to live his life however he wants, with whomever he wants, punches a hole through my chest so large it’s suddenly hard to breathe. He was never mine, but in a few, short encounters, I’d started to wonder what it would be like if he was.
I take my lingerie inside, give my baby girl a kiss on her cheek, give her an applesauce pouch, and open the box. I want to try each piece on immediately, wishing more than ever that my husband would be ecstatic about an interruption to his workday for pictures of me in these decadent clothes.
Hudson would be.
The thought plants itself in my mind without my permission and refuses to leave…until Hudson’s words from the lake haunt me instead of my own: not if it leaves you empty and chasing desire somewhere else.
How did Gregor and I get to a point where my interaction with the delivery guy evokes more desire in me than the man I’ve known and loved for over a decade? I feel like I’m trying to save myself from drowning in a sea of despair and Greg’s not even aware I’ve gone overboard.
Though, one thing is growing clearer by the day…I can’t keep living like this. I don’t resent my role as a mother as much as I used to, and I’ve grown fond of Serafina and I’s routine over the last few weeks. It feels like we trust each other more now and I love that.
But I barely recognize myself anymore.
I want to like myself again. Feel like myself. Act like myself. Not like some simpering housewife reduced to begging for her husband’s affection.
I’m hesitant to put Serafina in daycare so soon after finally finding our groove, but Hudson’s words about that also ring in my head. I’m fortunate enough to not have to take a job immediately. I can look around for something that is the perfect fit, but I’ve made up my mind.
I’m going back to work.
Filled with excitement, I begin to look at options that would allow me to work remotely. Telehealth options really picked up after the pandemic, even for neurologists like me.
I also make an appointment for my first tattoo.
It’s time I take back control of my life.
Since I can’t give in to the urge to show my new lingerie to Hudson, and Gregor isn’t interested in seeing it, I decide to take myself on a very important date.
A date to remind myself that I am more than the roles I play to others.
To remind myself that although it may not be the norm or what society deems appropriate, I am—and always have been—a very sexual woman.
Craving those intimate moments when your heart races, your breathing becomes erratic, and you’re consumed with need for the other person.
I miss that confident woman who was proud of her body and felt loved, desired, seductive…in control.
I want her back.
And that’s how, three weeks later, I end up dropping Serafina off to my mom and check-in to a downtown studio with Kiera, the busty boudoir photographer currently doing my hair.
“Are these going to be a present for someone special?” Kiera asks, making small talk while twisting the curling iron.
I smile, knowing my answer may be a little unorthodox.
“Yes, actually. They’re a gift to myself.”
Kiera’s eyes light up. “I love that! Honestly, I wish more women would have these shoots done. They can be so empowering! I always tell my clients that a potential partner is far more likely to be attracted to us if we are first attracted to ourselves.”
My eyes widen in delight and find hers in the mirror.
“Exactly! Like we should be the best version of ourselves for us, not to please our spouse.” Realization strikes hard and fast. “Because then we end up changing who we are until we don’t recognize ourselves anymore, and we grow to resent the person we’ve become as well as resenting the person we once loved,” I add sadly.
Kiera spins my chair and messes with my bangs, adding another layer of hairspray.
“Well said,” she beams. “But for what it’s worth, if women were my thing, I’d totally be hitting on you right now.”
I laugh and God it feels good. Even though I’m not trying to impress her, a compliment like that just hits differently when it comes from another woman. I reach for my glass of champagne and take a sip, appreciating the setup Kiera has for her clients.
“Thank you.” I smile shyly, not knowing what else to say.
Not deterred by the awkward silence, Kiera says, “Well, tell me about the version of Shannon Hartley you fell in love with, or want to fall in love with.”
Kiera starts on my makeup as I open up to a complete stranger in an attempt to rediscover myself.
By the end, I’ve learned that I haven’t changed all that much from my younger self.
At least, the things I want for myself haven’t changed.
An active, healthy, simple life with strong relationships and a sense of purpose.
When I married Gregor, I thought that’s where I was heading, but right now, my life barely fits the criteria.
Kiera finishes my makeup and I strip the robe covering my first piece of lingerie as she positions me in the seductive pose, her eyes catching on something just below my underwire.
“Your tattoo is beautiful. I love the simplicity,” she beams.
“Thank you.” Absentmindedly, my fingers trail over the week-old ink.
The waves rise and fall along my rib and the words Just Breathe are directly below them.
It’s in black ink and isn’t intricate, but at this time in my life, it’s perfect.
If I make it through this, then I’m sure life will throw something else at me down the road and the reminder will come in handy once again.
I try not to spend too much time thinking about the fact that it was Hudson who first spoke those words to me.
Gregor hasn’t even seen it.
“That’s good. Just like that.” Keira’s voice brings me back to the photoshoot. “Your facial expressions are totally up to you. Some clients prefer to smile, others like to be sultry. Go with whatever you’re feeling.”
I’m not in the right headspace for smiling, so I leave my lips slightly parted and stare at the camera in a look that’s meant to be a love letter to myself through the lens.
Kiera snaps a few shots and then pulls back to check through what she’s snapped.
“I just want to make sure the lighting is how I want…damn. Shannon, you’ve gotta see these.” She kneels on the bed next to me. We’re close because the camera strap is still around her neck as she leans in to flip through the pictures. “Stunning,” she says, drawing a smile out of me.
I didn’t come here seeking validation, but she’s certainly giving it to me. My internal fire burns a little brighter, steeling my resolve to make some much-needed changes in my life.