The Last Exhale Part 36

He giggles, then flips over and puts his head on my lap with a serious look on his face. "Mommy, I don't like it when you and Daddy fight."

I rub by hand across his hair. "Aw, honey. I don't either."

"Then you should stop. Fighting's not nice."

"You're right; it's not."

"Okay, I wanna go to sleep now."

"Can Mommy have a hug first?"

He wraps his growing arms around me as best he can. I melt in his arms.

On my way out his room, his father's words rush through my thoughts like runners at the beginning of a race. Love doesn't demand its own way.

The moment my kids were born, they came out loving me. There was nothing I had to say or do for them to love me. It was natural, instinctual. Love should be that way. No one should have to do anything or treat someone a certain way to deserve love. If that's the case, love is one thing it isn't. Eric and I both tried to make ourselves love each other. It didn't come natural for us. And when we tried to force it, we felt the pull making us pull away. What would happen if we just let each other be?

Instead of going downstairs to catch up on some TV, I turn around and walk back in the master bedroom. It's time I stop lacing up my sneakers and taking my mark, get set, go. I'm tired of running from the consequences of bad decisions. I've been running for far too long. Running from fear. Running from the mistakes I've made. Running from the mistakes I didn't make. Tonight, right now, I'm going to face this for what it is.

I cut the light on and position myself right in front of my husband. Just like I told his mom he chose to marry me, I chose to marry him. It's time we stare truth in the face.

I search his face, search his eyes. Look for any indication that he's ready to call it quits. I come up short. "I had an abortion before we got married."

Now his eyes study me. "I know."

My knees buckle. Eric catches me, ushers me to sit on the bed. All these years I thought that was my secret, thought it would follow me to a very deep grave. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You want the truth?"

"It's time we start telling nothing but."

He bends over, elbows on knees, chin in hands. "Because I wasn't going to marry you. I knew if I went along with your act of everything being normal that you'd terminate the pregnancy."

I pull my feet into my lap, fold them like a pretzel. "How'd you know I was pregnant?"

"You always talked about being bloated when it was that time of the month. You'd talk about all the gas you had. It was clockwork every month. One day while at your place I needed to look up a date on the calendar. I noticed you had a date underlined. I looked on the previous month, saw the same underline on a different day, but that day had a circle as well. Kept flipping through and saw the same thing in all the other months except for the month we were in. That line had been two weeks ago." He rubs his hands up and down his face.

"You get paid to notice things."

"That's the real reason Abigail came to town. I had told her I wasn't going through with the wed-"

"You weren't going to marry me." I cut him off. "Uh yeah, I get the picture."

After a pause on both of our ends, a pause long enough for our thoughts to circulate, Eric's hand slides over on top of mine. "We didn't marry for love, we've both admitted that. But over time I've grown to love you. We have two beautiful kids together. I can't make you love me, that's something you have to want to do on your own."

I think about what he's saying as I slide my hand from under his. I run my fingers through my hair, give my head a light ma.s.sage. I had no idea how my life would change after allowing my heart, mind, body and soul to tiptoe out of this marriage. Had no idea how it would change if my husband ever found out. The last two weeks of Eric's suspension, he flew out to Denver to visit his parents. He needed time away to think clearly without being in the heart of the situation. We both needed the s.p.a.ce to think without having the other to distract the process. I was able to put things in perspective. Though I didn't love him when we married, I, too, have grown to love him as the father to our children and as a man. Not in love with him, but love is there.

Eric interrupts my thoughts. "Is this it for us?"

I repeat his words back to him. "Love doesn't demand its own way." I don't know what that means in this moment, but it makes me feel better about any decisions I have to make in the future.

He moves his lips to speak. "We can't go back from here, you know that, right?"

He's right, we can't go back from here. I had an abortion because I didn't want to be with him for the long haul. He knew about it and didn't say anything for the same reason. If I could go back, I would put the egg he fertilized back in my womb and let it have a life of its own. Instead, I took matters into my own hands and made life worse for all involved. Maybe Eric and I didn't talk about it, but all these years, it was talked about in our silence. I killed for him and he let me do it. I let me do it. Ultimately, the decision was all mine. A piece of me I'll never be able to get back. Peace, I'll never be able to get back. That's something I'll never be able to move from as long as I'm in this marriage.

I get up from the bed and stand in front of my husband. I look him in the eyes. Again, I see the truth he refuses to speak. I will no longer play this game with him. Just like the last exhale-when the lungs release all of the air in its capacity-this marriage has released all of the lies it's used to keep it alive. I twist the engagement ring and wedding band off my finger. Release the weight. Grab his hand, open his palm. Place the rings inside. "Yes, Eric. This is it for us."

IF YOU LIKED "THE LAST EXHALE" AND "PARALLEL PASTS," WE HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS STORY.

Heated Waters BY JULIA BLUES.

(WRITING AS JEWELLS AND FEATURED IN "ZANE'S Z-RATED: CHOCOLATE FLAVA 3" ANTHOLOGY) AVAILABLE FROM ATRIA BOOKS.

The pool mirrors the moon in its stillness.

I dip the tip of my foot in and watch the moon's reflection break into tiny pieces just as my life has shattered within the last twenty-four hours.

"I'm filing for divorce."

My eyes sting as a fresh batch of tears form. I do everything I can to prevent them from falling. Clear my throat, swallow, cough. Nothing helps.

His familiar scent of Sicilian citron, apple, and cedarwood tickles my nose and betrays my emotions.

"How did we get here?" I ask as I feel him standing behind me.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead he sits down next to me, rolls up the legs of his pants, and sticks his feet in the water right along with mine.

I look over at him; beg for answers with my liquid emotions.

He wipes away a tear just before it falls from my chin. "I think this is something we've both been wanting for a while. Why prolong the inevitable?"

I sigh. "It doesn't have to be this way. I...I don't want you to leave."

Trevor looks up at the sky, says, "Full moon. Emotions always get the best of folks on nights like this."

I lean my head against my husband's shoulder. The shoulder that has carried the weight of my infidelity for the last two years. His love for me kept him around all this time despite my indiscretion. It wasn't intentional, wasn't planned. It was a moment of weakness. I was lonely. Married and lonely. Two words that should never be used in the same sentence. His job kept him away more than a husband should be away from his wife. Seemed like the more I spoke up about it, the more business trips he would make. One trip lasted a week longer than planned. When he came back, I had already broken my vows.

"It wasn't the way you think."

His shoulder tenses under my head when I refer to that night. He tenses and shuts down every time I try to talk about it. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Are we really over?" I want to know, though I already know his answer. I just need to hear him say it again to make it official.

"The papers are on the dining room table. Movers will be here in the morning."

My eyes begin to burn again.

Trevor leans his head down and places his lips against my forehead. "You'll be okay. We both will."

Maybe a full moon does get the best of people because as hurt as I am, another feeling between my thighs won't let me break down the way my heart wants me to. Been fighting my hormones since he walked out smelling all good.

I lift my head; turn it in the direction of the lips that were just on my skin. I close my eyes and kiss my soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Let's not-"

"Shhhhh," I say as I try to gain some control over what happens in my life.

For a second, neither of us moves or says anything. Contemplation is in the air. Him debating if he should oblige my offer.

Me wondering if I should take it off the table.

He wins.

He removes his legs from the pool and walks back in the house.

I cover my face with my hands and tremble as the floodgates of my heart break open.

Footsteps entering the shallow end of the pool silence my sobs. I open my eyes to see Trevor walking toward me. He stops right in front of me, looks me in the eyes as if to ask if I'm sure I want to go there. With my irises, I tell him yes.

He moves in between my parted legs, reaches his hands behind me, and scoots me to the edge of the pool. Scoots my heat closer to his face. Long, slender fingers creep underneath my skirt and trace the edges of my thighs and the curve of my hips until they reach the top of my panties. I raise my torso up slightly for smooth removal. My panties are tossed to the side just like this marriage after eight years, but I refuse to think about that right now.

His eyes are intense as his face nears my warmth. He licks his lips, kisses each thigh softly. Again he grabs my rear and pulls me closer than close. His tongue navigates its way around familiar territory.

My head leans back, glazed-over eyes staring up at the moon as his tongue swims to depths only his tongue can go. My inner walls tighten around his thick tongue, trying to pull him in deeper, causing me to close my eyes and bite down on my lip at the same time. A moan trembles from my lips. He's always been a gifted eater. I run my fingers through his locs, pull him closer than close.

His moans make my love below vibrate, tickle my pearl in the worst way.

I feel his eyes on me.

I put my eyes on him.

We stare.

He wants me to know this last time is personal.

I want him to know this last time is personal for me, too.

He flips me over on my stomach, throws my legs across his shoulders. Devours me from the back. His lips against mine, tongue flicking in between my folds. Smacking noises loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood. His tongue moves in and out of me as I ride his face like Secretariat going for the Triple Crown.

My trembling makes me lose my balance. He helps me turn back around and yanks my s.h.i.+rt above my head. Tosses it and my bra over where he tossed my panties a while ago. He doesn't take my skirt off for whatever reason, and refrains from removing any of his clothes.

He submerges under the water, swims to the stairs on the shallow end of the pool. Sits and waits for me, pants pulled down to his ankles. I know what that means.

I go under the water and come back up with my face right in his lap. His firmness stands at attention waiting for me to salute. I lick its girth; let my tongue linger in the juices on the tip for a second before I let half of him disappear in my mouth. I know how he likes it; not too much at first. I flick my tongue up and down his shaft; take his cleanly shaven sperm holders into my mouth, let my moans vibrate against him like his did me moments ago. This time I take him all the way in my mouth, feel him slip down my throat.

He ma.s.sages his fingertips against my scalp as I ma.s.sage his manhood with my mouth. He thrusts deeper down my throat and then nudges my head away. The hunger in his eyes is now a look of revenge. He grabs me away from the stairs and pulls me to the wall of the pool, turns my back to him. He prefers it that way. Hasn't been able to face me as he enters me since my moment of weakness.

His hardness enters my soft spot without hesitancy.

I scream in torture and in pleasure.

"Is this how he did it to you?"

Trevor's question catches me off-guard. I don't know what to say.

My silence takes him to another level as he grabs my b.r.e.a.s.t.s with both hands and fills my insides in a way he never has before. Pumping in and out like a drill trying to reach the bottom of the earth. If I said it didn't feel good I'd be lying.

I toot my b.u.t.t out to push him outside me. I want to stare at his wrath face-to-face.

He understands.

I reach in the water and escort him back into my fiery dungeon. I s.h.i.+ver as he enters me again.

They say to never look an animal in the eye because they will be able to see your fear. At this moment I wish I had listened. Fear is in my eyes. Looking in Trevor's, I can see my fear of being alone. And if I can see it in his eyes, I know he can see it, too.

Alone.

The reason we are here.

I rock my hips hard; try to ride him back into this marriage.

He makes short, hard thrusts, tries to get my mind off the matters of this marriage.

We're going at it like animals. Bucking like kangaroos and howling like wolves. Going at it so hard I feel my flesh sc.r.a.ping against the edge of the pool. Trevor sees my pain. Without removing himself from me, he moves us back over to the stairs. He's on top of me, growing inside me, the tip of his p.e.n.i.s trying to knock my cervix out the ballpark. I bite down on his neck until I taste blood. That excites him all the more. He puts both of my nipples in his mouth, sucks hard like he's trying to suck a thick milkshake through a too-small straw. It hurts and feels good at the same time. My fingernails claw at his back, his drill digging deeper into my earth. He's trying his d.a.m.ndest to leave a lasting impression in my womb.

My legs shake. Not from ecstasy. I'm in pain.

Trevor's too far gone to even realize this is no longer pleasure for me.

This is too much. This is vengeance. Not the way I want to remember my final hours with my husband.

Again, emotions get the best of me, and I lose it. I cry like I did when I confessed my adultery and saw how thin the line was between love and hate.

He wipes away my tears, wraps his arms around me. I realize it was no longer pleasurable for him either. Again he pulls me closer than close. My inner walls throb against his manhood as my outer walls crumble against his chest.

"Are you sure we can't work this out?" I hear myself plead.

He looks at me, kisses me with the love he's always had for me, the love he had before everything changed.

My answer is in his kiss. Nothing else is to be said.

I loosen my legs from around his waist. Feel life escaping from me as he withdraws from between my legs for the last time.

Going in the house is the last thing I want to do. I want to stay in the pool until the water doubles over with my tears and drowns me in my apology. Doing so would be insane. It's my fault that life has come to this point. n.o.body made me do what I did. Can't blame Trevor. Can't blame circ.u.mstance. It was my actions.

I let my body drift to the bottom of the pool, but my d.a.m.n skirt acts like a life preserver, refusing to let me sink.