Laying in a doze, I registered gentle kisses that slowly morphed into teasing bites down my neck and over my collarbone. I rolled onto my back with a smile looking up at Chris with barely opened eyes. His smile was full of dazzling white teeth, then he dipped to kiss my breasts. A lock of his overgrown espresso hair falls to his forehead and instead of brushing it back, I traced the path down to brow and cupped his cheek. He pulled himself up to kiss me, demanding yet slow sweeps of his tongue had me coming undone faster than usual. Then, as we lay there all hot and sticky beside each other, we caught our breath.
“That was amazing,” Chris panted.
I smiled and closed my eyes. It was 5 in the morning, I could go back to sleep for two more hours before I had to get up for work.
“I love you,” he whispered.
The breath stilled in my lungs. Did he really just say that? Maybe I heard him wrong.
He rolled over and stroked my auburn hair back from my face. “I need to ask you something before I got to work.”
I rolled over to face him, thankful he had something to distract me from his comment. “Yeah,” I smiled.
“Marci,” he grabs a small box before propping himself up on an elbow. “Will you marry me?” He opens the navy-blue box exposing a sparkly diamond ring.
I swear the world stopped turning.
His chuckle makes me realize that this isn’t a dream. I thought it was going to be a key.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, but all I see is the generic ring sparkling in a bed of white velvet. The longer I stare at it, the more I hate it. It’s gold with an oval diamond cut to look like glitter. Every smooth surface has been invaded by smaller stones making it a silver and gold glitter nightmare for your hand.
It’s then that he registers my reluctance. “What?” His voice cracks. He looks down and clears his throat. “Wrong ring?”
I get up and pull on sweats and a t-shirt.
“I can go back and get something else,” he’s grasping at straws. “You can come with me.”
I fix him with a hard stare that I know that he doesn’t fully deserve. “It’s not that.”
“Well, it’s got to count for something.” He is avoiding my gaze. It is then that I realize he is much too emotional for this.
“All we do is have sex.” I start to pick up my dirty clothes and straighten the frames on my walls.
“That’s not all we do.” I see the confusion on his face. “We cook together, watch Netflix, make love.” He smiles at the last part as if calling it that will make me realize that I suddenly have feelings for him.
I want to gag. “Cooking is like foreplay and Netflix is an excuse to do it on the couch.” A heavy sigh sags my shoulders as I look in his eyes. “How can you think that this is anything else?”
“So I’m just a quick lay?”
I swallow. “You are sexy and a lot of fun,” I offer unapologetically. I hate this part, the way he is glaring at me.
“So this was all about the sex?” He stands up stunned. His hazel gaze is begging me to pretend that this is all just some big joke. “You seriously just wanted to have sex?”
“I told you that in the beginning.”
“How can you be so cold?” He looks at me confused.
I wait for his expression to change, but it doesn’t. “You can take a shower before you leave, I know you need to get to work.” I walk out of my bedroom straight to the kitchen. I make a pot of coffee because I know that it is way too early for anything stiffer. I pour myself a cup without diluting it. I lean my back on the counter and sip, staring at my reprint of Edvard Munch’s The Sun.
It only takes a few minutes before he emerges in the fresh scrubs he brought with him. I watch him walk over and prop himself on the stool. His hair is slicked back and dripping about his shoulders. I was hoping he would just leave, but apparently, he isn’t done talking yet.
“How can you be with me for four months and still not feel anything?” He studies my unflinching face as if I am suddenly a specimen under a microscope. “Isn't there anyone you love?” His jaw sets askew as he sits there demanding an answer.
I sigh. He is just going to sit there and stare at me until I answer. “There used to be,” I shift my feet and cross my ankles returning my gaze back to the art across from me.
“I hope he never loves you.” He spits out. I look at him unsure if I heard him right. It is then that the angry slits of his eyes relax into pity. I hate that look even more.
I laugh ironically, “you’re a bit too late for that.”
He grimaces. He grabs his stuff and heads to the door. He grabs the door handle and looks back at me in concern as I study the picture. “I guess this is goodbye.” His eyes are pleading me to say something to make him stop.
“Goodbye.” My voice is void of everything as I turn to the sink. I was hoping to wash dishes, but since it’s empty I was my hands instead. The moment before the door opens lasts for an eternity, but he finally steps out into the hallway and leaves.
I slowly turn off the water and turn to look back at the hopeful brightness of the rising sun. I let it take over all my thoughts, filling the void from years ago. I refuse to remember that day. Absolutely refuse.
