35. Rae
35
RAE
Now
I spend a lot of time thinking about the last dinner Hunter and I had with Will. I think about the way he tricked me into believing he was upset about us, and how he laughed at my expense, but most of all I think about that last toast. How he seemed to cast a spell over Hunter and me, uttering words that made the lines of his fate and mine impossible to unlink. That made it necessary for us to keep finding each other, to keep loving each other, to keep ruining each other, over and over again.
That’s what we do in his laundry room.
We ruin each other, and it is the most beautiful, perfect, stupid thing I’ve done in a long, long time. Which, of course, doesn’t stop me from spending the night with him in his bed or letting him fuck me through his mattress for hours so that when I wake up the next morning, my stomach is knotted with anxiety and guilt, and the inside of my thighs are coated in his cum.
I groan and turn over on my stomach, surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, to find that I’m in bed alone. It’s not like I wanted to wake up in Hunter’s arms, but it might have been nice not to have to face the reality of what we’ve done all on my own. As I burrow into sheets that have gone from smelling like just him to now being soaked in the scent of us, I wonder where Hunter has gone. I don’t hear him or Riley moving around downstairs, so I’m guessing she’s still asleep, which means he’s either out for a run or?—
My thoughts are cut short by the sound of the shower in his bathroom turning on and the sensation of my blood running cold. I’ve never been triggered by the sound of a shower turning on before, so I’m unprepared for the way my body reacts, for the way my mind floods with images of the day that ended us, that made Will’s toast nothing more than the wasted wishes of a dead man. I curl in on myself as they hit me, each one slamming into my chest and taking my breath away.
Hunter slumped on the floor, lingering on the edges of life with the evidence of his demon’s victory plunged into his arm.
The broken pregnancy test forgotten on the threshold of the bathroom, the pieces of our future ground into the tile he’s currently walking over.
My aching palms, red from slapping him multiple times to keep him conscious.
The droplets of water soaked into the fabric of his shirt, and the steam billowing around us, warming the room and making the effects of the drugs that much more potent.
For the length of Hunter’s shower, I lay there, trapped in the memories and years old pain, berating myself for doing what we did last night, for letting him in so completely, for giving him my body and whispering truths that are only supposed to live in my heart. For forgetting that there are still so many things broken between us. And when the water stops, and he emerges from the bathroom moments later, his body wrapped in a towel and a wide smile on his face when he realizes I’m awake, I force myself out of it and out of his bed.
“Good morning,” he says, striding over to greet me with a kiss as I push to my feet. I dodge it, stepping around him with an apologetic smile.
“I need to brush my teeth,” I murmur, slipping out of the room and padding down the hallway to the only other bathroom on this floor. I take my time going through my morning routine and even consider showering just to help calm myself down, but then I remember that all of my clothes are in Hunter’s room and decide it can wait until later.
When I walk back into his room, Hunter is sitting on the edge of the bed, still in that damn towel, taking his time rubbing lotion all over his body. I stand in the doorway, mesmerized at the sight of him and unable to hide it. I let my eyes run greedy circuits over his arms, legs, stomach, and chest, tracing over every line of ink.
There’s a lot.
From his left shoulder to his wrist, there’s a composite image that he said was a representation of shared struggle, proof that you can be going through your own storm and still pull someone else out of theirs. It starts at the top of his shoulder with a lightning-filled sky and turbulent clouds illuminated by a full moon. Where the clouds are the thickest, there’s a hand, desperate and seeking, plunging out of it. The fingers of the hand stretch down, just barely gripping the fingers of the hand reaching up from a body of raging water.
I always found it funny that he chose to have such a meaningful image juxtaposed by the random presence of those damn skeletal tattoos on his fingers, but when he told me he just wanted something to fill the space, I accepted that everything doesn’t have to have meaning. Some things just are.
They exist because they have to, because we need them to fill a void or scratch an itch. It occurs to me then, that maybe that’s what last night was. A thing that had to happen. A lingering desire that had to be fulfilled.
“You know it’s not polite to stare, right?” Hunter asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. I drag my eyes from the sun bursting with rays of light on his right elbow to his face, and he smiles indulgently. The way he used to smile at me when he’d tease me for always staring at him.
“Sorry.” I edge around the bed, not wanting to risk getting caught up in his gravity and make my way to the closet where I stashed my stuff on Friday. I’m pulling out my clothes for the day, and trying not to vomit at the thought of having to return home and face Aaron after what I’ve done, when Hunter speaks again.
“Why is none of your stuff in my bathroom?”
I freeze, and my stomach clenches with anxiety as I assess his tone, trying to gauge whether he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious or because he somehow knows where my head is right now and wants to find a way to ease us into the conversation. I straighten and turn around to face him.
“I can’t go in there,” I admit. “Not after…”
His smile dies right in front of my eyes, and my heart breaks. There’s something so devastating about the absence of joy on his face, about being the one that caused it to disappear.
He doesn’t need me to finish my sentence. He doesn’t need me to elaborate because he knows what I’m alluding to. Just like I know I’ve hurt him by bringing it up, by making us stand in the ugliness of his mistakes the morning after we made such a big one together.
Hunter rubs at his chin, and I watch him accept the painful truth, absorbing it into himself but not being ruined by it. I’m impressed by that. By the way he never shies away from being held accountable even when the transgression is old.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his eyes all liquid regret and heated emotion. “I should have realized that would be difficult for you.”
While I appreciate the apology, it feels so wrong to accept it, to be standing here making him feel bad about something as mundane as using his shower. Clearly, he’s made peace with what happened in that bathroom, and I shouldn’t be challenging that in any way.
“Don’t apologize for using your bathroom, Hunter.”
“I’m not apologizing for using my bathroom, Rae; I’m apologizing for not realizing how triggering it would be for you, for not thinking it through, for scaring you.”
“You didn’t scare me.” I wave my hand, trying to dismiss my feelings even as tears spring in my eyes, conveying my fear. I bite my lip to try and hold them off. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to make him feel bad. I don’t want to relive this.
Hunter rises to his feet, coming over to wrap me up in the most comforting hug.
“Yes, I did,” he murmurs. “And I’m sorry, okay? I’m good. I promise you, I’m good. And I’m going to keep being good for Riley and for you.”
Maybe it’s because I’ve already gone through the gauntlet of emotions this morning or because I didn’t get much sleep last night, but something about Hunter including me in that promise sends panic bubbling up in my chest. The memories of the last time he attached his sobriety to me are so fresh in my mind, and I don’t get how they’re not fresh in Hunter’s, how he can even say that when he has first hand knowledge of how terribly things went the last time he tried to be everything for me.
Once the panic begins, the reality of what I’ve done, what we’ve done, starts to sink in. When I left Hunter, I did it because I knew that I had to choose Riley, that I had to put her first in this life the way my mom put me first. And since he’s come back in her life, I’ve put their bond ahead of everything else, knowing that Hunter would do the same, that if he focused on her, he wouldn’t be in danger of breaking under the weight of our ill-fated love. But last night, for the first time since I became a mom, I put myself ahead of my daughter. I let freshly unearthed emotions and startling desire take over, fooling me into forgetting that this weekend was supposed to be about acclimating Riley into Hunter’s world, not seeing if there is still a spot for me in it.
I step back, breaking Hunter’s hold on me, and shake my head. “Just Riley.”
“What?”
“You said you’re going to be good for Riley and for me, but I’m not a part of that equation, Hunter. I can’t be. The only considerations you have to make for me are from a co-parenting standpoint, nothing else.”
His gaze wanders over to the bed, to the rumpled sheets that call me a liar, and then back to my face. Both of his brows are furrowed, and he’s making that face that makes him look the most like Riley while his eyes pour out love and hope and desire for the stolen moments we shared in that bed to come out in the open, for the I love you’s we exchanged to go from hidden secrets to kept promises lived out in the open.
“Rae, we just?—”
“I know.” I press my lips together, nodding. “I know what we did, and it was stupid. It was a mistake. And I mean, that’s us isn’t it? We get together, and we do stupid, reckless things. We put everything at risk, and we can’t do that anymore, Hunter. We have a daughter to consider. You have your sobriety to protect and Taurin to take care of, and I have?—”
Aaron’s name gets trapped in my throat, and I feel myself crumbling as I attempt to resurrect the wall I’ve worked so hard to keep between us, using nothing but my bare, shaking hands and the fragments of the bricks we shattered with every kiss and touch we traded last night. Hunter watches me as I struggle, and there’s pain in his eyes that radiates through me when he decides to help.
“Aaron,” he says, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he uses the word to slide the final brick back into place. I can see his face through the gaping holes and jagged lines of the ruined wall, can smell his hurt lingering in the air, dancing along the edges of the scent of dust and construction debris. “You have Aaron.”
“Yes. I have Aaron.” My teeth plunge into my bottom lip, and Hunter just stares at me. His silence disconcerting, his pain unnerving. “I wish it could be different,” I tell him. “I wish I could put it all behind me. Maybe then?—”
I stop myself because I don’t know where I was going with that thought. Because Hunter doesn’t look like he wants to hear it. Because neither of us believe a single word I’ve said anyway.
Riley and I get home around one in the afternoon, and Aaron meets us at the door. I’m surprised to see him because in our very brief conversation yesterday, he told me he wouldn’t be home until the early evening. What’s even more surprising than his presence, are the bouquets of flowers he has in his hand.
“My girls are finally home,” he says, dropping to his knee to present a bunch of sunflowers to Riley with a dramatic flourish. “I missed you, Riley girl!”
Riley takes the flowers, her eyes wide with excitement. “These are pretty!”
“Say thank you, Ri,” I remind her, correcting her lack of manners but saying nothing about her not returning Aaron’s sentiment about missing her because she probably didn’t miss him. She probably didn’t think of him at all when she was with her dad, and that’s okay.
I wasn’t thinking of him either, but that’s not okay.
“Thank you, Aaron.”
“You’re welcome. If you take them to the kitchen, I’m sure Ms. Marcy would be happy to help you put them in some water.”
Riley looks at me for approval, and I nod. “Just set your bag on the bench and take off your shoes.”
She’s gone in a second, running through the house yelling for Marcy. I hear Aaron’s mom respond, kicking off the conversation with a compliment on Riley’s dress and saying nothing about the running and yelling, even though I know she hates when Riley does both. Then I look at Aaron and his big, grand smile and wonder if I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.
“These are for you,” he says, handing me a large vase filled with red roses. It doesn’t escape my notice that my flowers are already in water, and Riley’s were not. It was a subtle way to distract her and carve out some alone time with me.
I take them, wincing slightly when our fingers touch in the exchange because after a night in Hunter’s arms, anything else feels wrong. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Aaron studies my face and frowns. “Are you okay? You look tired.”
My cheeks heat. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long weekend.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it while you take a bath,” he says, taking my duffel bag and purse from my shoulder and slinging them over his own before linking our fingers together.
“Oh, um, a bath sounds nice, but I need to do laundry and get started on Riley’s hair.”
“We have plenty of time for that, babe, right now I just want a moment alone with you. Is that okay?”
After a weekend of excitement, I’m dying to get Riley back into the groove of our Sunday routine, but I don’t feel like I can say no when Aaron is being so sweet and I feel this guilty.
“Yeah, that’s okay.”
I let him lead me up the stairs and into our bedroom. Aaron drops my things on the bed, and I’m careful not to look at it for fear that it might flood my mind with memories of Hunter’s. I offered to strip the bed before I left, but he told me to leave it. That he’d take care of it. Him refusing to let me help him clean up the mess we made together made me feel even shittier than before.
And here I am, sinking even lower into the abyss of self-loathing because Aaron hasn’t just drawn me a bath, he’s covered the bathroom floor with rose petals and filled the tub with bubbles. He’s sat a small table next to the tub and placed a bottle of wine and two wine glasses on top of it.
He’s created a beautiful, thoughtful, special moment that I don’t deserve.
“Aaron.” I cover my mouth with my free hand, shaking my head as I look at him. He smiles again, his gaze filled with pride.
“Do you like it?”
“I—I don’t deserve it.”
He frowns and moves behind me, laying a kiss on my neck. “Don’t be silly, babe. Of course, you do.”
“Aaron, I?—”
“Shhh.” He stops me in the middle of my thought, bringing his hands to the straps of my dress and pushing them down until the fabric is lying at our feet. He repeats the process with my underwear, and then smacks my ass gently. “Get in the tub, baby. Let me take care of you.”
I do what he asks because I don’t know how not to, and when I sink down into the water, he pours a glass of wine and hands it to me.
“Thank you,” I croak.
“You’re welcome,” he says, pouring himself a glass and taking a seat on the edge of the tub. “Tell me about your weekend.”
I stutter and stumble my way through a summary of my time at Hunter’s house, making sure to leave out the conversation on his patio the first night and everything that happened after we spent the whole day in the pool on Saturday. Aaron listens intently, which is unnerving because I’m worried about what he might see, but also because I’m just not used to having his undivided attention anymore.
“Sounds like you guys had a nice time.”
I take a sip of my wine and nod before narrowing my eyes at him. “What’s going on, Aaron?”
He sits his glass down on the table and chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Isn’t it obvious?”
My poor heart, which at this point has spent more time racing than beating normally, starts to pound, and panic sends my eyes flying all around the bathroom looking for the ring box he’s presented to me three times before. Each time, I’ve said no because saying yes didn’t feel right, but today I’m afraid that I’ll say yes just because I’m feeling guilty.
“I’m trying to apologize,” Aaron says.
“Apologize?”
“Yes, baby. I’ve been a complete and total dick to you. When I was in Atlanta this weekend, all I could think about was how much I missed you, how much I’ve fucked up over the past few months.” He reaches for my free hand, and I let him take hold of it, allowing him to bring it to his lips. “I know that I haven’t been the man you fell in love with. I’ve been petty and selfish and jealous, and how could I not be? You have so much history with Hunter, and now you have this relationship you’re building with him that’s based around the most important person in your world, and I was scared there wasn’t going to be room in any of that for me.”
This is the most honest and vulnerable Aaron has been with me in a long time, and I hate that it’s coming now, when I’ve already done something that could ruin us. Something that will hurt him when he finds out, and he’s going to find out because I’m going to tell him. I hadn’t decided before just now if I was going to come clean today, but I know now that I have to. There have been too many walls up between Aaron and me, too many things left unsaid, and if he can be honest and own his fuck ups, then I can too.
I reach over and place my glass of wine on the ledge of the tub on my other side. “Aaron, I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” he asks, his eyes filled with earnest while mine brim with tears that I swipe away because now isn’t the time to shed them.
“I slept with Hunter.”
Silence descends on us as my words register with Aaron. They settle on his head and trickle down into his ears, spilling onto his shoulders and rolling down the line of his arm to his fingers that are still cradling mine. The connection is short lived, severed with a decisive slice as Aaron releases me and pushes to his feet, starting to pace immediately.
Water sloshes around as I stand, reaching for the robe hanging on the hook next to the tub. It’s brand new, another heartfelt gesture from the man I’ve just shattered with my words.
“Aaron, please say something,” I plead, tying the robe tight around my waist.
He pauses, turning to me slowly with crossed arms and crazed eyes. “You slept with Hunter?”
“Yes, but it was—” Despite using the word with Hunter to describe what transpired between us last night, I can’t bring myself to say it was a mistake to Aaron. I knew what I was doing. Hunter gave me ample opportunity to stop, but I kept going. I let him keep going. “I’m sorry. That’s not what this weekend was supposed to be about, but it happened, and I don’t want to lie to you about it.”
“Well, thanks for your honesty,” he scoffs. “How many times?”
I press my lips together, certain he can’t really be asking for a number. He can’t actually want to know how many times I told myself we’d stop only to find myself climbing on top of Hunter again or letting him hike my leg up as he slid into me from behind. There were too many times to count, so I didn’t try.
“Before last night, we’d never…” My jaw clenches as shame digs its way through me. “When I left this morning, I told him it couldn’t happen again.” A wave of nausea lays claim to my stomach, and I don’t know if it’s because my body is physically rejecting the thought of never having Hunter again or just the stress of the situation. Whatever the reason, I find myself swallowing down bile as Aaron stares at me like he doesn’t know who I am. “I’m so sorry. I know that I’ve hurt you, and I understand if you can’t forgive me. I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive me either.”
With nothing more to say, I start to head toward the door, but as I move past Aaron he grabs my hand and stops me.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe you wanted some space. Riley and I can go stay with Jayla and?—”
“No.” He shakes his head, still holding my hand. “I don’t want you to leave, Rae.”
“You don’t?”
“No, but I do want you to promise me something.”
Aaron and I both know that at this moment in time, there’s nothing I wouldn’t promise him. That’s the funny thing about guilt, when it’s strong enough, when it’s potent enough, you’ll do anything to get rid of it. You’ll say anything. You’ll do anything. You’ll promise anything, even things you probably shouldn’t.
There’s an odd glint to Aaron’s eyes as he considers me, as he waits for me to fold to his blank check of a demand. I swallow past the lump in my throat that’s telling me not to make promises to a man I’ve just scorned and surrender to the part of me that feels like I owe him this because while he’s been a lot of things over the past few months—petty, childish and insecure—he hasn’t been unfaithful.
But I have.
“Anything.”
He smiles—it’s a small one, so faint it’s just a ghost on his lips—and then brings his hand to my cheek, running a finger over my jawline and to my lips. “I can forgive you this one transgression.” I push out a small, relieved breath, and the smile becomes real this time. “But,” he continues, “this fuck up means things are about to change with you and Hunter’s cozy little co-parenting situation. From here on out, I’m involved in every conversation and present for every visit.”
“Aaron—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a finger on my lips.
“If you want to gain back my trust, you’ll do this for me. And as long as things remain respectful, we won’t have a problem. I won’t speak to him. He won’t speak to me or step foot in my house again. If Riley wants to spend time at his place, you’re going to have to figure out a way for her to do that without you.”
“That won’t be a problem. Hunter and I already agreed that she could do visits with him every weekend.”
“Good. We can do drop-offs together, and then we can spend our free time reconnecting, figuring out where things went wrong so we can fix them and get our relationship back on track.” He runs his finger back and forth across my bottom lip. “I love you so much, Rachel. I know that we can get past this.”