4. Sarah
4
SARAH
The memory of Ian inside me makes me giddy as I wash off. It's like being a teenager all over again, except this time, there's no beating around the bush.
He wants me, he's showing me as much, and he let us have each other.
What could be more amazing than that?
As I stand under the shower, I try not to let myself overthink what us having sex could mean and instead focus on the prospect of doing it again.
It didn't escape me that he didn't say anything to my declaration of wanting to have him forever.
Could I blame some of the things I said on the heat of the moment? To some extent, yes.
But here's the thing about intoxicating moments: you tend to say it all. Your desires, the darkest of them all, that which you have always wanted, needed, pant for, you tend to spill them all if made relaxed enough and asked the right question.
So when I said that I wanted Ian forever, it came from my heart because, let's face it, has any man made me feel half the way Ian has?
Sighing, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. I've been here long enough, anyway.
I grab a towel and clean my body, grateful I'd been smart enough to cover my hair. I don't want to waste time drying my hair and keep Ian waiting for too long.
Besides, what's the point of washing my hair when I know it's going to get rumpled soon enough?
Eager much?
Ignoring my subconscious, I enter my closet and fetch a nightie. It's one of my special ones, something I used to wear on one of the scheduled nights for sex with Kyle.
I quickly shove aside those thoughts and dress myself, tossing my towel on the bed. Once I'm dressed, I put the towel back in the bathroom and then step out of my room.
I paste an eager smile on my face as I enter back into the living room only to find it empty. Running quickly to my window, I draw my curtains aside, and I see Ian turning the corner we took earlier. I watch him disappear into the night.
Well, there goes my excitement, happiness, and heart. Poof into thin air, like him.
And just like that, I'm back to the girl I used to be. That girl who was always waiting for Ian to show up, but he constantly disappoints.
I remember the many nights he left me hanging at the slightest chance he got. All the dates he never showed up for, and then the day he finally disappeared.
What was I thinking, anyway?
That he'd be different now?
That he'd see me as the woman I now am and not the teenager he was so scared of touching back then?
Well, I guess he does see me as a woman now. The dent on my couch is all the proof I need. But I guess one night of sex is not going to magically make him fall in love with me or anything.
I was stupid to have thought otherwise.
Groaning at my clear case of delusion, I walk back into my room and fall face flat on my bed, thoughts of all that could have gone wrong if Ian hadn't saved me filling my head.
What if he had hesitated?
He had no reason to save me. No compulsion to do it, yet he did. But then again, it's Ian we're talking about here. He has always been a man with some sort of hero complex. I think he likes to save people, and he just happens to be around anytime I am in danger.
Lucky me.
Again, what is he doing in Glazer Ville?
He has no connection to the town. None that I know of, anyway. He’s a New Jersey man, born and bred. What could have possibly brought him to my hometown?
I fear I may never find out since he's ditched me again with no explanation whatsoever of how to find him.
Ian and I met in New Jersey, where my mom made us move after she had a fallout with my father. He wasn't the best father, so I can't say I missed him much. I do always wonder what my life would be like if we hadn't left my town.
Maybe I never would have met Ian.
Maybe I never would have become a writer, although the thought of that appalls me.
Maybe Kyle would have been the only man I knew, the man who'd be the love of my life, and maybe Olivia would not have to constantly demand to see her father. Kyle is a piece of shit, though. Our breakup was inevitable. My getting pregnant just hastened the process.
But if I'd never left my town, maybe I never would have met Kyle, either. I met him in New Jersey, too.
The thing is, there's no saying for certain what could have happened.
Life has a way of playing itself out regardless of how hard we try to steer it in our favor. Take Ian's situation, for example. He should have been mine, especially with how hard I tried to make us work.
Another thought occurs to me, and I instantly decide that maybe not having Ian is not so bad after all.
Would I have had Olivia if I had remained with Ian?
Probably not.
A life without my daughter is one I never want to imagine. She's the best gift life has given me so far, and the thought of her having to live with Kyle permanently if something had happened to me earlier today brings tears to my eyes.
If Ian had hesitated…
Or what if he wasn't there?
I don't want to imagine it!
I don't know any person who would have risked their life like he did for me, and I guess this is why I may never be able to forget him or keep him out of my thoughts.
The road somehow always leads to him.
It's like he's being carved into my destiny, and nothing he or I do can change that.
It sounds phony, I know. I am a fiction writer, though, so maybe you shouldn't expect much of me.
Most of my thoughts have been romanticized for the past fourteen years.
When I glance at the time on my bedside table, I see that it's past nine at night, and I haven't had dinner yet.
Groaning, I get on my feet, put on my robe, and enter the kitchen to prepare some food. It's been an eventful night, and while I am pretty hungry, I don't want to take in anything heavy, so I decide on fruit salad.
It takes me ten minutes to make it. I pour myself a glass of wine, carry my salad in one hand, my wine in the other, and walk out of the kitchen, passing the living room as I go to sit on my front porch.
While it's a bit late at night, Glazer Ville isn't a town that sleeps early. Honestly, we don't even qualify as a town because of how small the area is, but my hometown isn't decided by its size. It's by the people in it. Although wealth isn't something we are lacking, we can be quite quaint.
As I eat, I keep my mind focused on the things around me, refusing to let myself be drawn into thoughts of Ian, the near accident, or even Kyle.
It's not an impossible task because people keep passing by, and I busy myself with occasional greetings and waves.
Soon, my plate is empty, and with the realization comes a change in the air. The wind comes so strong it makes my windows clang. Standing up, I drain the last of my drink and close my window from outside before I fetch my plate and start to enter the house.
Just as I push the door open, an idea hits me, forcing me to pause my movement.
This is it!
What I've been looking for all this while just fallen into my lap, and I didn't even realize it!
Rushing inside, I enter the kitchen and dump the utensils in my hands in the sink before I run to the bedroom and pick up my laptop, and then dash back into the living room.
Right in the very spot Ian took me not long ago, I sit and start to tap away on my laptop.
It is only once I have my new idea all written out that I pause to read it again.
When I'm done reading it, I drop my laptop on the seat and do a little dance around my living room.
My audiences are going to lose their minds after reading this!
I just fleshed out a plot for my new book, and it's based on my encounter tonight with Ian.
I can't believe it.
Not only am I certain I'm going to do justice to this plot, but I know it's going to be filled with a lot of twists, as most of my books always are.
Pacing the room, I start to think of how I can make the story stand out, make it resonate with my audience, and another idea hits me.
What if I make Ian have a wife somewhere that I had no idea of and find out later but still can’t resist him when he comes for me again?
Hmmm. No, that won't work.
Infidelity is a topic I haven't quite touched on in my stories or as a person either. The idea of Ian having a wife in real life or in a book makes my belly churn.
Was that why he left?
Nah, Ian wouldn't do that. He wouldn't sleep with me if he had a wife, right?
But would he?
Do I even know this man well enough?
Doesn't matter now. All you should focus on is the golden story your encounter with him has given you .
Yeah, it's probably better for everyone involved for me to stop worrying my head over Ian. Correction, it's better for me.
Picking my laptop up again, I read what I've written so far, and another idea of what to do comes to my mind. Before I can think of writing it down, though, my phone dings twice from my bag on the floor, and I am momentarily distracted as I fetch it.
When I unlock it, I see that I have a message from a fan. Opening it, I have a smile on my face before I even read it. My smile broadens as I read the message.
Apparently, this person has read many of my books and would like for us to meet.
If only it were that easy. If I give in to all the requests of the number of people asking to meet me every day, I definitely wouldn't be able to do anything else with my life.
Glancing at the name of the sender, I pause as soon as I read it.
Neville Brown.
That's my father's name. At least, it was the name I knew him by before he left my mom when I was ten and we had to relocate because my mom couldn't handle their separation.
The last time I heard from him was over fifteen years ago. Why is he reaching out now all of a sudden and asking for us to meet?
Something isn't right here.
I don't know what it is yet, but I can feel it.