I walked her out the door and to her car.
“Goodnight, Luke,” she said.
“April,” I said, and she turned back toward me.
I kissed her once more on the lips, softly. There was nothing aggressive about it, and it didn’t last for even ten seconds, but I felt the surge of electricity once again. This woman made me feel things I hadn’t felt before.
“Goodnight,” I said as I stepped back.
She smiled, and then turned, got into her car, and drove away.
I went back inside and got myself ready for bed.
The phone beeped as I connected it to the charger. I turned the lights off and laid down, knowing my heart wouldn’t stop pounding for a while. I was perfectly okay with it, even if it was going to keep me from falling asleep.
“Well, there you go,” I said aloud to myself, “you’ve done it.”
My morning had started with the direct intent of ending things with April, not letting them get out of hand. And here I was less than twenty-four hours later having made out with her on my couch.
Don’t forget the dick grabbing, I reminded myself. That certainly didn’t qualify as ‘ending things’ either.
God, there was probably no backing out of it now. That opportunity had come today and I let it slip away. I wasn’t upset by it though. Maybe what had happened was meant to be. I mean, what were the chances of her husband having the worst professional outing of his career and then going home and hitting her on the day I had planned to end things with her but didn’t get the chance? What would have happened if he had hit her while they were still in Colorado? Would she have left him and never moved with him to Florida? Did she have some other guy there that she could have gone to in her time of need? Or had all of this happened now for a reason?
It certainly was complicated, but I guess that’s how life often is. I had kissed her. I couldn’t tell her “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that!” or “I really don’t think we should do that anymore!” It was done, and I had no idea what was going to come of it.
I fell asleep much more quickly than I thought, and slept soundly, because I didn’t remember anything from the moment I laid down until the time I woke up. It was already after nine, closer to nine-thirty, when I finally rolled out of bed.
I checked my phone and I had five texts. Three were from April, and two were from Holly.
April’s first text had been sent thirty minutes after she left my house. It read: Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without you.
The second was sent thirty minutes after the first one.
He’s passed out on the kitchen floor. I’m going to leave him.
I wasn’t sure if she meant that she was going to leave him on the floor, or leave him for good. I knew what I hoped she meant.
The third text was sent about ten minutes before I woke up.
He’s awake and making the family breakfast, not even a hint of a hangover.
I felt a little strange about texting her back with him being right there in the room with her.
Oh please. You just kissed her last night and now you’re worried about what her husband might think of a text?
Has he apologized about last night? I asked.
The two messages from Holly were both sent about an hour before I woke up.
You feeling better today? the first one asked.
I will stop by and see you around lunchtime if you are going to be home, the second one read.
Lunchtime for Holly was usually around twelve-thirty or one. She enjoyed sleeping in after a long night’s work, and I couldn’t blame her. Especially since she was going to be doing it all over again tonight. But, she was obviously up earlier than normal today. Maybe she woke up, sent me the texts, and then fell back to sleep. That had also happened plenty before. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper.
Feeling a little better today, yeah, I replied. We weren’t anything. But there was something that was starting to bother me about lying to Holly.
I got up, showered, and fixed myself a bowl of Cheerios. I have a weird habit of never eating cereal before nighttime, but occasionally I make an exception.
My phone stayed silent as the morning crawled along. I cleaned things, tidied up here and there, but found myself very distracted mentally. Every time I closed my eyes I could see her face, smell her skin. I could taste it. I wondered what the rest of her tasted like.
April had married young, and foolishly, just like I had. Carrie and I would have ended disastrously. But, instead of becoming a divorcee I became a widower. How long would it have taken me to end things with Carrie? How many years would it have taken the two of us to see that our hearts were mismatched? It seemed like April was coming to this realization with her violent, asshole husband.