What He Doesn't Know(38)

I had to see her in four hours.

See her, and not touch her. And look into those torturous eyes of hers knowing she regretted kissing me.

I made a pot of coffee somewhere around four and force-fed myself eight  pieces of toast in an effort to soak up the night's damages - both the  booze and the energy. I debated calling out, but I couldn't. Even if I  knew it would hurt, I had to see her.

I had to try to talk to her.

My drive to school was slow as I ticked through what I would say to her  in my mind. I wanted so desperately to make her understand, to make her  open her eyes and see that what she felt with me was real. But it was  like trying to solve a math equation with half of the numbers missing - I  could argue our points, our history, the chemistry between us, but I  couldn't account for the years she'd given herself to Cameron.

He was the variable, and I didn't know what weight he truly held.

By the time I made it to Westchester, I was so anxious to see Charlie I  practically bolted from my car and sprinted across campus to her room. I  didn't have long before we'd be separated by hallways and students for  the rest of the day, and the thought of not being able to talk to her  beforehand was enough to drive me mad.

I couldn't get a grip on any of the thoughts flying through my head.  Part of me realized I was being selfish, that I was hurting her by  touching her, by opening her up to the possibility of me. She was fine  before I showed up in her life again. She was happy.

But the bigger part of me knew that was complete bullshit.

Charlie had been a shell of herself the morning I'd started at  Westchester. She hadn't expected me, just as I hadn't even thought of  the possibility of her coming back into my life again. I'd assumed she  was married and moved away, and though one part of that assumption was  true, it didn't change how I felt for her.

With every minute I spent with her, with every passing day, I saw a bit  of the old Charlie come back. And maybe it was selfish, maybe it was  wrong - but I wanted all of her back again. I wanted all of her to be  mine.

Still, everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I'd say slipped  from me like sand between my fingers when I rounded the corner into  Charlie's classroom and saw her standing there.

She was looking over a stack of lesson plans in her hands, and she  looked up slowly when she noticed me at her door, like she already knew I  was coming. Her eyes were even puffier than the day before, all the  crying and lack of sleep shading the skin beneath them a dark purple.

She nearly broke at the sight of me, her face crumpling, shoulders slouching forward as if I'd disappointed her by showing up.

"Charlie," I started, moving into her classroom without a second  thought. I rushed straight up to her, my hands reaching for hers, but  she stepped back just as quick, nearly falling over the small trashcan  next to her desk.

I went to steady her, but she held up her hands to warn me not to touch her.

"Don't. Reese, damn it, why are you here?"

"We have to talk about last night."

"No, we don't," she argued, slapping the papers down on her desk with a  frustrated sigh. "I told you, it was a mistake. I was tired and drunk  and-"

"Please, don't do that." I shook my head, sniffing back my emotions. "I know you don't mean it."

"I do," she lied, her voice cracking. "I do, okay? Please, you need to go. You have to stay away from me."

"I can't. Don't you see that? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have … " my voice  faded off and my fists tightened at my sides as I tried to find the  right words.

What was I sorry for? What did I do that I wouldn't do again right now, if she just gave me the green light?

"Exactly. You shouldn't have. We shouldn't have. Can't you see that I'm  drowning in guilt right now?" Her eyes flooded with tears, but she  wouldn't blink to let them loose. "I'm married, Reese. That's all there  is to it. I don't get to run out on him and find comfort in you, and you  don't get to have me."                       
       
           


///
       

Something about the way she said those words, about the finality of  them, about the way she wouldn't look me in the eyes snapped what little  resolve I had left. My desperate need to make her understand went up in  smoke, leaving only a charred anger underneath it.

She had kissed me, too. She had touched me, had moaned my name, had  pressed her nails into my skin like she wanted to make a permanent mark.

And she had.

She didn't get to just walk away from me now.

"You know what?" I said, bending to meet her eyes with mine. I pressed  my hands flat on her desk, forcing her to look at me. "I'm not sorry.  Not even a little bit. I've wanted you for years. Decades. And did I  ever think I'd have you? No. But then life brought me here, back to you,  and you were fucking miserable the day I came back. You still are. You  can open that pretty mouth of yours and tell me every lie you've told  yourself but I'll never believe them. I see you, Charlie."

I pushed off the desk to stand again as two tears slipped from her eyes, falling in parallel lines down to her jaw.

"You can push me away, and you can tell yourself you feel nothing for me, but I know it's bullshit. And you do, too."

I held her gaze for a moment, hammering that point home before I turned  and made my way out the door at the same speed I'd made my way in. My  stomach churned, the voice inside me calling me an asshole like I didn't  already know. But I didn't regret a single thing I'd said.

It was all true - every word of it.

And if I had to lose sleep at night drowning in the truth of it all, then she would, too.





Charlie



The first day of March fell on a Saturday, a little less than a week  after my night with Reese. It was that day that we received the first  warnings of a possible blizzard that week, of more snow than we'd had  all year.

It wasn't that the forecast calling for snow was a big deal in  Pennsylvania - we'd had plenty of it already. Some days it would fall  and melt away just as fast, other days it would stick on the ground for a  while, but up until that point, we hadn't had any reason to think we  would have any chance at a snow day, much less a blizzard that could  close the school for multiple days.

It usually took at least five inches for the school board in the  Pittsburgh area to even bat an eye at the possibility, and we hadn't  come close. If the plow trucks could get through and the roads were kept  in a drivable condition, there really was no reason to call a snow day.

But that Saturday, they predicted at least eight inches to fall Monday night, and that meant there was a chance.

It was also that Saturday that Cameron decided to make up for our anniversary.

"This is nice," he said that afternoon when we were cuddled up on the  couch under one of my favorite blankets. I was tucked comfortably under  his arm, his fingers drawing circles on my shoulder as we settled in for  the third movie in our marathon.

He'd made breakfast for us that morning, cinnamon French toast, but for  some reason it hadn't tasted the same to me. The toast had a burnt taste  to it, the cinnamon too strong, making my mouth dryer with every bite.

Still, I'd cleaned my plate, and then Cameron had given me a full body  massage during our first movie. He'd held me close all day, kissing me  sweetly, and for all intents and purposes, it should have felt perfect  to me.

But I didn't feel anything at all.

I was staring at the television screen pretending to watch the movie when he repeated himself.

"Right? This is nice."

I blinked, snapping myself back into the moment and cuddling closer to him. "Mm-hmm, you know movie days are my favorite."

"We don't get to have them very often."

"That's why they're my favorite."

It was true. There were very few days in the ten years we'd been  together that we'd ever had the time to just lounge around and watch  movies. We were both always so busy in college, and once we were  married, we filled every weekend with house projects, trips, and  exploring Pittsburgh. If there ever was a day when I had the time to  watch movies, it was usually when Cameron was stuck working in his  office.

"I know I keep saying it," he said, sweeping my hair back from my  forehead to plant a kiss there. "But I'm truly sorry for missing our  anniversary. I hope this helps make up for it a little bit, but I know  it doesn't make everything better."

"It's okay."

Cameron sat up straighter then, pulling me back away from him until our  eyes met. "It's not. Look …  I know things have been … " He swallowed. We  both knew he didn't have to finish that sentence for me to know how  things had been. "I haven't been a good husband to you lately, and I'm  sorry. You deserve more than that."