CHAPTER 5
*PRESENT*
“Lose the pants”
Maya
When we got home, the tiredness of the day got to me. My shoulders felt heavy, my breath labored, and my head was killing me, pulsing at my temples. I tried rotating my shoulders, but it was to no avail. I tried massaging them myself, but nothing. Aaron came back from the kitchen to check on me.
“Are you alright?”
he asked. I nodded, but he was too focused on the movement of my hands on my shoulders to reply.
“Does it feel wrong?” he asked.
“Just a little. I just need to rest after revising some documents.”
He wanted to argue; I could see it in his tight jaw and straight lips.
“It is going to be quick. It’s a critical case,”
I reminded him.
He nodded but still seemed to not fully support my decision. I moved towards my home office.
“Don’t wait up for me. By the way, Aaron, we should celebrate the award with your family. Maybe this weekend?”
“Sounds good. I’ll call them tomorrow.”
He didn’t want to let it go, so I turned and continued down the hall to the office. I turned on the lights, and two big piles of paperwork were my welcome on my home desk.
There weren’t enough hours of the day, but I liked it better this way. I needed the movement, to not be able to think once I fell into bed with my husband’s warm body and the darkness as my only companion.
That way, I didn’t have the strength to think of what ifs, couldn’t imagine what had been happening behind my back, and didn’t have to think of the betrayal.
So, whenever my bosses wanted someone to help with a new case, I volunteered. It helped that I was damn good at my job.
They thought that I was proving myself, and that’s what I was doing at the beginning, when that terrible night was not even in my worst nightmares.
It wasn’t as many hours and cases as now, but I worked hard and got good results.
I loved my work most of the time, so those extra hours didn’t feel heavy, especially with the novelty of finally working in my dream job after many years of worrying if I was going to be able to become a lawyer, and even more spent studying to get there.
But after that night, it was all about surviving. I got up day after day and tried to think the least possible about what had happened.
I knew that it was not the healthiest, but it didn’t feel necessarily wrong; the heaviness in my chest was lower. I didn’t have almost any anxiety attacks, and I could just pretend to be moving on. Fake it until you make it. That’s what people said.
Therapy didn’t help much. I went because Aaron begged me to go. I just couldn’t say no. I hated that I was worrying him, hated them for what they did, and hated how much that affected not only my life, but also Aaron’s. They didn’t deserve this.
I was enraged but couldn’t scream at them. Then the guilt came in, and I felt horrible for feeling this way, this much anger.
Then sadness, knowing that I could never get closure, never have the future that I dreamt.
A blink, and then nothing was the same. A moment in time, and my heart would never heal.
So, yeah, it was better to be burned out by work.
***
After revisiting the case Mr. Musk-Smith v. Mrs. Musk-Smith, I decided that my eyes were too tired, my head in so much pain, and I couldn’t focus anymore. At this point, I was just wasting time, so I got out of the room, turned off the lights, and went to take a shower.
My idea of heaven was getting inside our bed after taking off all the stress of the day in the shower, feeling the sheets, and hearing Aaron’s soft snores.
I went to our room and saw all the lights out except for the bedside ones on both sides of the bed. I checked Aaron, and he seemed asleep. My shoulders relaxed. Inside our en suite bathroom, I got into the shower even though the water was still freezing; it reminded me of old times.
Soon, the water got scalding, and I adjusted it. I layered the shampoo and massaged my body with a good amount of body gel. After getting out of the shower, I realized I didn’t get PJs, so I left the room with only a towel.
I tried to make the least amount of sound to not wake Aaron up as I started to get dressed. I had put on my shirt and had my pants in my hands when I crash into one of my dresser’s doors.
“Shit,”
I muttered. I checked to see if Aaron had woken up, turning slowly and softly, but it was for nothing.
Aaron was looking at me from the bed, his eyes half-closed.
“Are you okay, my love?”
I felt my cheeks get hot. My love was still causing me to blush like a high schooler.
“Sorry, yes, go back to sleep.”
“Don’t think I can. My wife is half-dressed in front of me.”
His eyes were checking me out. My legs were completely exposed, and my nipples poked my shirt. “You’re even wearing one of my shirts,”
he said lowly. “Come here.”
“Aaron, I’m tired. I’m not in the mood.”
“I know that you have been working all day. I just want to give my wife a massage.”
“You were sleeping…”
“I know that. Now, I’m wide awake.”
I snorted in response. “I’m being serious, Maya. Get over here; you have been touching your shoulders since I got to your work. I might help.”
“Do you promise no funny business?”
“Of course. Only if you can promise that, too. I’m pretty irresistible.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Small ego, too.”
“Maya, lose the pants.”
I left the pants in the closet and got closer to the bed. Aaron raised from his lay position and touched the bed close to him. “Here, my dear wife.”
I tried not to laugh while shaking my head.
“Incorrigible. Where do you want me, my beloved?”
He smirked, but a light blush came to his cheeks.
“Face down,”
he said in a low, bossy voice.
Fuck.
I obeyed, and he rose from the bed to the bathroom.
He came back and sat next to me.
I checked what he was doing from my periphery. He rubbed some lotion in his hands to make them warmer. I swallowed.
My husband was a very hot man—the hottest, in my honest, unbiased opinion. His blue eyes, his soft, strong, dark hair, the freckles, the glasses, the soft, pouty lips, his dimples, his athletic complexion, his strong and capable hands. His forearms.
I looked at his face, and one of his eyebrows was raised. “Checking me out, Mrs. Willow?”
“Plead the fifth.”
“Of course you do. Remove the shirt, too.”
I got up and took my shirt off. My nipples tightened in the cold air. Aaron’s eyes dipped there and then he raised his eyes to mine. I put myself face down without stopping eye contact.
He got his hands on me with a slow, strong movement that made me moan out loud. It felt amazing. I was melting under his touch. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of anything; I was trying to imagine a big, black wall.
His hands lowered until they reached my mid-back, and he continued his work. My head hurt less, and my thoughts were quieter. He lowered his hands again, now on my lower back. My head went to the gutter.
Should he try something? Do I want that?
Yes, my mind replied.
Of course I did, even though I was exhausted.
He put his hands on my legs and started massaging my left one. I didn’t realize how heavy they were until now.
My body was in heaven, my head empty, and my core molten. I missed feeling connected to my husband. I missed these moments and knew that the one who was making them fewer and fewer was myself. I felt a heavy pressure behind my eyelids. I swallowed again.
My heart was getting heavier. I tried to visualize the dark wall again, but it was getting harder.
My body was getting hot and bothered, and I thought of making a move on Aaron, of getting loose with my husband. I knew it would work, but I felt contrived.
“Maya, honey, you need to relax. I’m feeling you getting tense. Is it not feeling good?”
“It’s heaven.”
“Then what is it? “
“I don’t like stillness. “
A beat.
“Oh, I see.”
“Thank you, Aaron,”
I said, and when Aaron got closer, I pulled him on top of me.
“I thought no funny business, my love.”
“I just want you closer.”
He relaxed and started touching my back up and down, from the neck all the way to my lower back. My eyes began to close, but I was resisting.
I wanted to look at my Aaron as much as possible, pining for him as if he wasn’t in my arms in our bed. I was getting melancholic.
He kissed my cheek, then my nose, my forehead, and lastly, my mouth in a too-fast peck.
“Don’t pout. We both know that if we start more, we will not rest, and you need it, baby.”
“Just one more. That’s not how you’re supposed to kiss your wife goodnight.”
“Then how is it?”
I grabbed his shirt and put my lips on him, demanding but soft. His lips were always so smooth. He tasted like his regular toothpaste mixed with him. I opened my mouth, my tongue begging to let him enter. He moaned and stopped the kiss.
“To rest now.”
I was definitely pouting now.
“You’re no fun, Mr. Willow.”
He shook his head. “We will see if you say the same next time, my wife.”
I kissed his cheek, and he kissed mine.
“Goodnight, my love.”
“Goodnight, killjoy.”
He rolled his eyes, but his eyes were shining, and he smiled indulgently.
“I’m very proud of you, Aaron. You worked very hard on the project, and you won. You’re helping so much.”
He swallows. He was going to try to play it down. Humble Aaron.
“It was a team project.”
There it was. I made a noncommittal sound.
“I’m very proud of you,”
I said again.
“I love you, Maya. It means a lot that you’re proud.”
I put my head on his chest and fell asleep hearing his heartbeat, surrounded by my husband’s arms.
***
I woke up in the middle of the night after having a nightmare again. It was always the same. I got closer to Aaron and tried to relax my breathing.
He was asleep, snoring softly with his mouth partly open. He looked younger when he was sleeping. His eyelashes were long and dark, framing his eyes and high cheek bones, his hair tousled.
I caressed his hair and removed a strand from his forehead, almost touching his right eye.
My hand touched the soft strand, put it in place, and lowered until I touched the pulse in his neck. I felt his heartbeat on my fingers, the rhythm calming my own. I tried to make it match mine. He mumbled something under his breath and kept sleeping.
I closed my eyes and focused on the heartbeat. He was fine, safe, and next to me. Everything was fine.
I opened my eyes, wanting to make sure again. He was in the same position, but I needed more to start relaxing. So, I snuggled him and put my lips on his neck at the exact point of his pulse, my hand on top of his chest, just above his heart. My ring shone in the dark night—mine, my husband, my love. And he was fine. He was okay.
Everything is okay right now. He’s just sleeping. He’s healthy. He’s alright. I looked one last time before closing my eyes and falling asleep in a restless dream.
***
I woke up when the alarm started to sound. My body was still tired, my head was not light, and my chest was a little heavy still. Aaron wasn’t in bed next to me. I had no idea how he got out of bed after I felt asleep snuggled into his side. I looked at the ceiling.
Today was going to be a long day. I rose and went to the bathroom, got changed, and put some makeup on. When I went closer to the kitchen, a delicious smell met me. My stomach was happy.
I got in the kitchen and found our table with a white cloth, a jar with fresh jasmines and our fancy silverware.
“Good morning,”
Aaron said from his spot by the stove. He was wearing the same pajamas from last night and had a soft smile on his face.
“Good morning, Aaron.”
He gave me a peck, then a more intense kiss.
“The food,”
he said, reminding me why we couldn’t kiss longer. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. “Today, I have a long day. I have some reunions and we need to finish some details from a case,”
I said as he gave me a mug with piping-hot coffee and a dash of cream.
“What’s the case?”
“Mr. Musk-Smith v. Mrs. Musk-Smith.”
“I didn’t know you were on that case.”
My shoulders raised and fell.
“It should be easy. Elle has a lot of evidence, from what I heard,”
he offered.
I straightened my back, and he frowned.
“I defend the other.”
“What?!”
he asked in an incredulous tone, raising his voice more than he usually did. “You’re joking, right, Maya?”
“No, I’m not. August is an old friend of my boss. We’re taking his case.”
“An old friend? More like he’s charging him big. I—Do you feel okay taking this case?”
“It’s my job, Aaron. You were there when they taught us in college about taking cases where you don’t like your client. We’re just supposed to do our best job.”
“I can’t believe it. Elle’s going to lose.”
“Thanks, baby. Winning cases is what I’m supposed to do,”
I tried to joke.
“But you must know it’s wrong. You must have even more evidence that—”
“I can’t talk about that. You know that.”
“Yes, sorry, it’s just—all those extra hours were working for this?”
“Not all, but yeah, some.”
“It’s just not you, Maya.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you started, you were not taking these cases. You were choosing the important, morally right ones.”
“No, I wasn’t. I took some not-so-great cases, too, Aaron. I can’t choose what to take and what not.”
“Why not?”
he inquired.
“Because I need my job. They tell me to do it, and I have to. I can’t choose only the ones that you want. And I needed the money back then.”
“You have never needed the money. If it is for that, don’t take it. We have more money than we are ever going to be able to use. I don’t want you involved in these shady cases. Can you talk with your boss? Tell him that you don’t have your head in the game, something like that?”
“I can’t,”
I said firmly.
“You can’t, or you won’t? Be honest; do you want the case?”
“I chose to work on the case.”
He was silent. “They needed someone and I volunteered.”
I didn’t tell him that it was months ago, after not sleeping for almost a week in a row; that I didn’t know what the case was about. That I’d heard of the name but never got the details because I was living well inside my office and I didn’t have any conversations outside case-related stuff.
I wanted to, but that would have made him insist on talking more with my boss. A foul smell came, and before he could reply, I went to the stove and moved the pan. A half-burnt pancake was in the pan. Aaron moved close to me, closed his eyes, and raised his eyes to the ceiling. So much for a romantic, upbeat breakfast.
“It’s still edible, save for some of the center, and it’s delicious. You know I like it more toasted, anyway,”
I supplied after he looked at me with a raised brow. He nodded and grabbed the pan that was still in my hands.
Was he disappointed in me? Should I try to explain more why I should stay in the case?
Mr. Golden Boy Aaron would never understand why I should stay in the case. He was always doing the right thing.
He put some fruit on a plate and sat down.
“Do you want more coffee?”
he asked in a tired voice.
“No, thank you.”
I checked the table, and a jasmine fell down in the middle of the white cloth.
“What about you? Have you called your parents about the weekend?”
“Yes, they think it’s a great idea. Saturday at noon at their house. Is that okay?”
I nodded. “Perfect.”
“If you’re too busy, just say it, and we’ll move it a couple of weeks.”
“No, no, that’s fine. What do we have to bring?”
“Some dessert.”
“Great. I can make the chocolate fudge.”
“Are you going to have time?”
“You shouldn’t bake your own cake,” I said.
“It’s not my birthday, just some dessert,”
he said, moving the food on his plate.
“Okay, then it’s better if you do.”
He didn’t look mad about it, just tired. The clock was ticking. I tried the food.
“They’re amazing.”
“Thanks, my love.”
We were both trying to put the fight behind us, but there was still something in the air that didn’t let us do it.
Maybe we just needed some space to think and to miss each other, and to let it be in the past.
We were in silence for a bit until he said, “I shouldn’t have told you what to do. You know what’s best. It’s just that you’re a beast in your job, and I thought that she had a chance to win, but after that, I don’t.”
“You’re rooting for her?”
He nodded. “I guess I’m being influenced by what the media says. I don’t have all the facts. I’m—it’s your job you’re choosing.”
“Thanks, Aaron. I—I didn’t choose it knowing about it. They asked me if I wanted another one and I said yes. It’s my fault for not asking more questions. I think I have learned my lesson.”
He nodded again. “If—if you don’t like your job there, you know that I would support you if you wanted to leave.”
I laugh.
“What?”
“Aaron, it’s not a secret that you don’t like my job.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it. I support you if you want to stay, too.”