Chapter 11 #2
“Oh, we should turn out the lights. There’s always a glare. I keep saying I’m going to rearrange the furniture, but I just turn out the lights once Mia goes down anyway. Do you mind?”
Do I mind sitting next to you in the dark? “No, I don’t mind,” I say, my voice raspy.
She hands me her glass of wine, tosses the cover off her lap, which ends up on my thigh, and bounces across the room to turn out the light. When she makes her way back to the couch, she sits down, but this time she’s closer. I wait for her to cover up before handing her the glass of wine.
We make it through the first two episodes, and I hit Pause. “Well?”
“They’re really just talking to a wall,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “And they’re supposed to find true love? I’m not sure,” she says, finishing off her wine. “You want something else to drink? Popcorn?”
“I’m good. Here.” I take the glass from her. “I’ll get you a refill.” Standing, I move to the kitchen and pour her another glass of wine. It’s her third glass of the night, and she’s definitely relaxed.
“I don’t know about this, but there are so many seasons. Maybe we’re just not to the good parts yet,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Maybe,” I say, walking back to the living room. I hand over the glass of wine. I could use this as an opportunity to move to a different seat, but nope, I plop my ass back on the couch, where she’s sitting on the middle cushion, and she leans into me.
“I think it’s all fake,” she whispers, then quickly covers her mouth as if she’s doing something wrong.
“You’re probably right, but who knows, crazier things have happened,” I tell her.
“Okay, we need to see more to make a full determination.” She nods toward the TV, snuggles under the blanket, and I hit Play.
Not fifteen minutes in, her head lands on my shoulder.
I take her wine, and she mumbles, “Thank you,” as she snuggles closer to me.
She wraps her hands around my arm and uses me as a pillow.
Unable to help myself, I place my hand over her legs, but I don’t take things further than that.
Instead, I keep my eyes on the screen and enjoy the moment.
I’ve never been one for lots of random hookups. There have been women in my life since my divorce, but they were all casual—something we both agreed on. Tonight, sitting here with Amanda, it doesn’t feel casual. It feels big and overwhelming and forbidden.
So damn forbidden, that I know it’s a risk.
As a coach, I’ve told my players many times that you have to risk the play sometimes to move forward.
This, sitting here with her like this, is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken.
I know what’s on the line, yet here I sit, my arm draped over her lap, while she snuggles up to me.
I know it’s the wine, but I still don’t stop it.
I need to stop this.
I can’t think about her this way.
I can’t crave her time and attention.
I can’t wonder if her lips are as soft as they look.
I have to stop, and I will. After tonight.
By the time this episode ends, Amanda is sound asleep.
I battle with watching more—not that I’m really paying any attention—or leaving, but I can’t just leave her down here like this.
So, I turn off the television and carefully pull her onto my lap before standing with her in my arms and carrying her upstairs.
She snuggles her head into my neck. She doesn’t fight me.
Instead, she settles her body against mine, perfectly comfortable in my arms.
She fits perfectly.
Shoving those thoughts out of my mind, I peek into the first room and immediately know that it’s Mia’s. Turning to my right, I push open the door. With the glow of the moonlight shining through the blinds, I place her on the bed. I manage to help her under the covers, without waking her.
I stare down at her for far longer than I should. Finally, I know I need to make myself leave. Bending, I place a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet Mandy,” I breathe. When I go to move, she reaches out and grabs me.
“Will.” Her voice is soft and sleepy.
“Yeah?” I don’t even know if she’s really awake, at least not until I see her eyes pop open. It’s too dark to see that beautiful color of green, but light enough that I know she’s staring at me.
I bend down a little closer, waiting for her to tell me what she needs, but it’s not words, it’s actions. She lifts her head, pulling mine closer with her hands behind my neck, and presses her lips to mine.
At first, I freeze, but her lips are soft and so damn sweet. The next thing I know, I’m kissing her back. She pulls me closer, and I go willingly. When she opens for me, I slide my tongue against hers, and she moans.
Fuck.
I have to stop this. She’s been drinking, and this isn’t her. She wouldn’t want this otherwise. I count to three before I force myself to pull away. My chest heaves with each labored breath I pull into my lungs.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps. “Oh my—I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking. “I can’t believe— Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me,” she says on a sob. “Bellamy.” She sits up, panic written all over her face. “She’s going to hate me. Oh no, what have I done?” she cries.
“Hey.” I rest my palm against her cheek. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“Will, please don’t tell her. Please, you can’t. I can’t lose my best friend. Please,” she pleads.
I want to tell her that I have to tell Bellamy.
I just got my daughter back, and if she found out that I lied to her about something like this, all that trust we’ve just built will be flushed down the drain, but it’s just the two of us here, and the sheer panic in her voice has me agreeing, because I never want to be the cause of her pain.
“Okay,” I say, my thumb catching the tears that roll down her cheeks. “It’s just us, Mandy,” I assure her. “It’s okay.”
“Do you hate me?” she asks, her voice small.
I sit on the bed, and this time, both hands cradle her cheeks. I wait for her gaze to find mine before I speak. “No, baby, I’m not mad at you.” I could never be mad at her. “It’s just between us. It’s all okay.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
She nods and rests back on her pillow, causing my hands to fall to my lap. I adjust the covers, tucking her in. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” she whispers.
A part of me, a really big fucking part, was hoping she’d ask me to stay.
This is it. Tonight is all I can allow myself to be with her like this, and the thought that I’ll never get to hold her tears at my chest. Out of nowhere, the intensity of what I feel for this woman has captured me, but this is all we can be.
So, I do something stupid. I lean down and press one last soft kiss to her lips.
“Goodnight,” I whisper. She closes her eyes, and again, I find myself counting slowly to three before forcing myself to stand and walk out of her room.
I make sure the house is locked up and put one foot in front of the other, taking steps toward my truck.
Once inside, I sit for longer than I care to admit.
I don’t want to go.
Knowing I look like a damn stalker, I put the truck in Drive and head home. I don’t remember the drive, but I do remember the taste of her and the feeling of her soft lips pressed to mine.
Without a doubt, both are something I’ll never forget.