BAD BOY ROMANCE: A Wifey for the Bad Boy (Contemporary Alpha Male Romance Book) (New Adult Alpha Male Romance Short Stories) (61 page)

Chapter 5

For some time I had been thinking about writing another novel as a way to deal with the feelings that were like a hurricane inside me but anytime I sat down to start typing I could never find the right words. I knew what I wanted to say but when the black letters appeared on the screen it never seemed quite right. So I ended up staring at a blank screen and then turned away in frustration. Perhaps it had just been so long since I had written fiction that I had lost whatever small shred of talent I had for it, in which case I had probably been vindicated in giving up on writing when I did, but it was annoying because it was the one method I thought for sure would work in excising my feelings for Lucy. At least then I could have pulled them out of my soul and thrust them on the page, and once the story had been written I would have been free.

That was the theory anyway.

What it meant was that I went to work feeling even more frustrated than usual. But when I arrived and went to Lucy's office for our normal meeting there was something different. I could feel it in the air as I walked down the hallway, but then I saw her and I couldn't believe my eyes, for on that day Lucy looked like a real person.

Chapter 6

You may think that is an odd thing to say so let me explain. Lucy had always been like a goddess to me and I had never seen her look anything less than perfect. She always took pride in her appearance but not in a way that made her seem vain. She certainly didn't plaster herself with makeup, merely used it to accentuate her natural beauty, but whenever she was out in public she always wore nice clothes and looked professional and presentable, almost like a movie star, as though every appearance went through a committee to ensure that she looked nothing less than perfect. It was another reason why I envied Wendy, for she got to see Lucy behind closed doors. I knew that there must have been days where Lucy looked normal but I had never been privy to that, and I got the feeling that it was something saved for the special person in her life.

But on that day her hair was unkempt and she looked tired. There were bags under her eyes and her shoulders were hunched forward; a sharp contrast to the usually impressive stance she took.

“Are you okay?” I asked. She looked at me as though she had only half-heard me, like her mind was somewhere else, and smiled thinly. Her face was paler than usual and I became sick with worry.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“It's nothing,” she sighed, and quickly changed the subject to something more professional. We spoke about the class later for I didn't want to press if she didn't want to share what was going on with me, although I have to admit that it hurt because I thought that we were good friends, and I was there if she needed to confide in anything with me. But I didn't press her because that's not how Lucy worked. She only did what she wanted, and if she wanted to share things with me then she would do so in her own time. There wasn't anything I could do to change that.

Everything we talked about seemed hollow because it was obvious that there was something wrong with her. I maintained a professional distance but she seemed like she was in another world. Even during the lecture she was losing her train of thought and seemed to get distracted. At one point I had to jump in and basically take over from her, which didn't look too good from her standpoint but in the state she was in I don't think she really cared.

The students could tell that something was wrong too. They were just as astonished as I was at the change in Lucy's demeanor, but none of them were in the same position as me, so they were reduced to hushed whispers and speculation, whereas I was determined to find out the truth. She wasn't only the woman I loved but she was my friend and my colleague, and I owed it to her to find out what was going on.

After the lecture finished Lucy sat back in her chair and held her head in her hands. She looked exhausted and drained, as though something had sapped all the energy out of her.

“Are you sure you're okay?”  I asked again, taking on the responsibility of cleaning the notes off the board while Lucy languished in her apparent state of hell.

“Yes. No. I don't know,” she said wearily, “have you ever had a moment where you think that you have life all figured out and then something happens that turns it completely upside down?”

I wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical or not.

“I'm...not sure,” I said. Lucy sighed again.

“I suppose maybe it's something to do with my age. Today is one of those days when I just feel old Cecilia. Try and hold onto your youth for as long as you can. It's no fun seeing time slip by, no fun at all.”

“Really, Lucy, what's going on? I'm getting worried about you. You're never usually like this. I always thought you were one of those people that looked to the bright side of life. Are you ill? Have you had some bad news? What's going on, please, talk to me about it.”

She laughed dryly to herself. “I used to be, mostly I am I think, but sometimes things happen...I don't know, it just casts life in a different light. One day you wake up and everything is different and you have no idea why. But I fear that I am rambling now and that is unbecoming of me. I would hate to shatter the illusion that you have of me.”

“And what illusion would that be?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.

“That I'm some kind of wise old woman who knows the mystery of life and the meaning behind it all, when in reality I'm just as clueless as the rest of you. Sometimes I feel like a fraud, standing up here and lecturing to all those students like I know what I'm going on about. The truth is we can never know what life is going to throw at us until it happens, and then it's happening so quickly that we barely get a chance to respond at all.”

Suddenly my worry increased for it sounded like she was talking about something deadly. Was it cancer? Was she ill? Was Wendy? I perched myself on the edge of the desk and leaned forward to her. I wanted to reassure her with a hand on her shoulder but I was still hesitant to give her any kind of clue that I was in love with her, so I kept my hands to herself, and just tried to offer her emotional support.

“Lucy, please, tell me what's going on. I'm getting worried. Are you sick? Did someone die? What's going on?”

And then, all of a sudden, her expression changed and she was back to being the normal Lucy that I knew and loved. She threw her head back and her hair settled in its usual glossy pattern and the light was back in her eyes, as was the warmth in her smile. While I was gladdened to see her like this it did strike me as odd at how she could so easily shift between moods, and there was a look of puzzlement on my face.

“Now you're the one that looks troubled,” she said, “what are you doing for dinner tonight? I feel like eating out, you want to try that new Italian place that's just opened up?”

I could barely believe my ears as the words tumbled from her mouth and there was no way I was going to say no, and I dared not ask about Wendy because I didn't want to suffer the truth until it was inevitable.

Chapter 7

I had to keep reminding myself that Lucy was married and that this wasn't a date. I knew she was too honorable a woman to ever cheat on her wife. I liked to think that I had the same values and would never fool around with a married woman, but I feared that I wouldn't have been able to resist Lucy if she really tried to seduce me. I picked out a few outfits, most of which had plunging necklines but I ended up avoiding them, convincing myself that it was just a dinner with a friend and I didn't have to do worry about dressing up. I ended up wearing a skirt and a black top, and made my way to the restaurant.

I arrived there before Lucy but I gave her name and the waitress showed me to the table. It was a nice place and I was surprised at how romantic the ambiance was. String music played in the background and the lights were dimmed. Red candles stood on the table, drops of wax slowly falling along the sides, the orange flame dancing around the black wick. I stared at it, entranced, until the door opened. Somehow I knew it was her even before I looked up.

“Wow,” I gasped as I saw her. She was wearing a long red dress that clung to her curves. Two thin straps reached over her shoulders and ran down, the dress barely held her voluptuous figure. When she walked the end of her dress swayed, offering a brief glimpse of her leg. She commanded attention and she commanded me. I rose as she approached and she giggled a little as she took my arms and kissed me on either cheek. I almost fainted as I felt the warmth of her skin against mine, and I felt extremely under-dressed.

“You look lovely,” she said politely.

“Thank you, but I wish I had known what you were going to be wearing. I would have made more of an effort!”

“Nonsense, you look great, and I only threw this one because sometimes you need to remind yourself that life can be beautiful.”

I was about to ask her why she needed reminding of that when she snapped her fingers and a waiter came to our table. She ordered some wine and a wicked look came across her face.

“Let's live a little tonight, shall we?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. I could do nothing but follow her lead. The wine wasn't long in coming. Lucy tasted it and said that it was fine, and then we both had glasses in front of us. We ordered our meals, then Lucy leaned forward and spoke in a low tone.

“Tell me Cecilia, what's been going on in your life. It feels like a long time since we've had a good gossip session. Have you had any romantic escapades recently?”

“None at all,” I sighed. I wanted to tell her that I couldn't have any because I was desperately in love with her but my lips were locked and I dared not speak the truths that were lurking within my heart.

“That's a shame...you should take advantage of your youth while you can. Before you know it you'll be old, like me, and the good life will be just a memory.”

“You're hardly old Lucy, and you look better than most girls my age.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said, raising her glass to me and taking a long gulp of the dark red wine. How I wished that that sentiment was true though, and it took all of my willpower to refrain from pouring out all of my long-festering frustration.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, setting her glass on the table and welcoming the food that was being placed in front of us. “But I fear that my best years are behind me. It's a funny thing, life. When I was your age, I thought that I was invincible. I could have done anything and gone anywhere, and believe me I did a lot of things that I probably shouldn't have. And then I got a little older and I met a good woman who I knew would take care of me, and I settled down and thought that my life would be a steady stream of contentment. I didn't even need anything wild because I had enough of that when I was younger. But then things change when you least expect them and you look around and wonder what you life has become...what you've become, and whether you've lost yourself somewhere along the way.”

She looked sad, and my heart went out to her. I didn't know why she had chosen me as the one to share that dinner with her but I wanted to be the one to make her feel better.

“Lucy, there's obviously something going on with you today. I've never seen you like this before. I've tried to respect you and let you deal with it in your own way but you obviously asked me here for a reason so you might as well tell me what's playing on your mind.”

Lucy took another long sip of wine and then leaned forward on her elbows. Her dark hair fell around her face, making it look as though she was wearing a hood, whilst the candlelight flickered in front of her, casting an orange hue over her countenance. Then she said the words that utterly stunned me.

“I had a very long conversation with Wendy last night and she wants to divorce me.”

Chapter 8

The words echoed around me. They were said in such a simple way that Lucy may as well have been telling me about the weather, but held within them matters of such importance that they hung in the air. I had no idea how to react but the choice of words were important as well.
She wants to divorce me
. Wendy was the one initiating it. Was she mad? She was married to the most wonderful, gracious woman in the entire world and she wanted to throw that away? It sickened me. There I was, willing to do anything to spend even one night with Lucy, and Wendy was just going to give up the most precious treasure in the world.

“I'm...sorry,” I eventually said, but it felt like a lie.

“Thank you. I just...I suppose it's been coming for a long time really but it's still a shock and I'm not quite sure how to deal with it.”

“What happened, I mean, why is she trying to divorce you?”

“Oh there are a lot of things, and I think part of it is the fact that after six years you start getting a little bored with each other. I thought we'd be able to deal with that though but she says I've changed over the years. She's at a stage now where she wants to reclaim her youth and go out partying. We were different beasts, you see, I had lived through all that and she was attracted to me because it was a part of the world that she had never experienced. I think she thought that by marrying me she would have an entry into that way of life but I was ready to retire from partying, and for a long time the stories were able to sustain her but as we got older she wanted to do it for herself before it was too late and all I wanted to do was spend the evenings relaxing. But I don't want to lay the blame at her feet. I know I haven't been the best wife. Work takes up a lot of time and I know that I've been marking books when I should have made time for her, and she started to feel like she was a second priority in my life. I tried to tell her that wasn't the case but she wouldn't have it.”

“Are you going to try and fix things?”

“I'm not sure there is any way to fix things like this. That's probably part of the problem too. I don't know, I always thought that when you got married things would be easy. I mean, I know that relationships take work and you have to  keep fighting for things but it's gotten to a point where we're getting on each others' nerves more and more, and it's like being together is a chore. Does that make me sound like a bitch?”

I was about to answer but she didn't give me a chance.

“Anyway, I just think that if you love someone then you should want to make the effort to keep the relationship going, and we just don't have that, so maybe we don't love each other.  That's probably the simplest explanation.”

“It sounds horrible though, I hate to think that you're going through that,” I said, and found myself reaching across the table to her hand. Our fingers linked together and I squeezed it tightly. My heart raced as our skin touched. I raised my eyes to look at her and found her looking back at me. My throat tightened and there was surely no doubt that there was something between us, but I dared not speak for fear of ruining the moment.

I wished that it could last forever but that was impossible, and it was left to Lucy to shatter the silence. As she spoke she pulled her hand away, and I was filled with a stark feeling of emptiness inside, as if I had lost something completely vital to my existence.

“Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear an old woman moaning about her love problems. Tell me something I don't know about you,” she asked. I thought about telling her that I loved her but I hadn't drunk enough wine for that, although I was sorely tempted and the words were ready to fly from my lips. Instead, I told her about my dreams of becoming a writer. Even though we had spent much time together I had never revealed that part of myself to her, and she squealed with delight when I told her. It felt good to talk about it again and we laughed as I recounted the letters of rejection I had received. She expressed sympathy and stroked my arm lightly, letting it linger there far longer than it should have. I didn't know whether I was more intoxicated by her or the wine but something was playing havoc with my senses and in that moment, when we were sitting opposite each other, I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything else before.

When she asked if she could read my manuscript I initially refused, but she pressed and I quickly found myself relenting.