Page 20 of Sexting His Son's Ex
Smiling from the memory, I dry myself off, then grab a fresh towel to wrap around me.
Only Kate knows my love for warm, fresh laundry. Not even Luca or Omar. I would never hear the end of it, but they both would relate. I know they feel the same because their mother did the exact same thing with their towels and blankets.
It’s the little things in life that keep the soul going and in my line of work, having a soul at all is rare. Mine has been hardened and calloused through the years of hard decisions, death, and inflicting pain.
When my father trained me to be the next in line, he told me death was part of the job, an action I had to get used to doing. He compared us to grim reapers, only we reap the souls of those who have done us wrong.
He was right.
I walk into my bedroom and flip on the light, turning down the brightness to give me enough glow to read. However, I’m frozen when I notice how empty this room is. I’ve never thought about it before. Emptiness never bothered me. It matched how I felt.
But just barely knowing Jovie has tilted my world. She’s opening my eyes, forcing me to see just how much I don’t have.
The walls are painted gray, no color, no life. When I picked the color, at the time, my wife had just died, and I moved the boys and I out of the old estate. It was too painful to be there when she wasn’t, to be surrounded by memories that were now owned by walls. I knew my sons would be damaged beyond repair if we stayed there. They would expect their mother to walk through the door every single day.
So when we moved here, I gated the entire property. I isolated us from the world because the world is cruel—I should know, I add to the cruelty every day—but I didn’t want the cruelest emotion of them all to come to cripple my family again.
Grief.
And now that I’m standing here, looking at my room, I’ve surrounded myself with grief, with how I felt at the time when we moved here.
My king-sized bed has a black comforter with black pillows. There’s no art. Everything is simple and dull because that can’t be taken away, can it? Not like light and love.
There are no pictures anywhere. Not of my children. Not of my wife.
And that’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve to be erased, but how do I move on while respecting the memory of her?
My head begins to pound and with dragging feet, I plop on the bed and bury my face in my hands, then run my fingers through my damp hair.
I’ve been living my life in monotone, drowning in the sea of a colorless life because enjoying the pleasures this world has to give seems wrong. So many years have gone by. My boys were only children when their mother was killed.
It’s hard to admit but… I’m finally ready to move on.
I fall back onto the bed, the soft memory foam mattress hugging my body as I stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan blades swirl. I toss my arm over my head, wondering how to have what I want without hurting anyone. I’ve never cared before. This time is different.
It’s my family.
And I will die for my family. Any day of the week at a moment’s notice.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand and I exhale with annoyance. I want to shut off from the world. I don’t want to deal with people anymore today. I want to be left alone.
And it buzzes again. Then again.
The noise alone infuriates me. I sit up and reach for the damn thing, wondering what the fuck anyone could possibly need. It’s ten at night. Bodies have been fed to the sharks, money has been handled, drugs have been pushed, people have been fed, what the fuck else do people really need from me.
Ms. Smith: “I need to admit something.”
Ms. Smith: “And it’s a little embarrassing.”
Ms. Smith: “But I need to say it.”
Ms. Smith: “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
A giant smile overcomes my face, and I lean back against my headboard, settling on top of the covers with my now cold towel wrapped around my waist.
I’m tempted to go in the bathroom to snatch one from the warmer, but using three towels at once isn’t a nice thing to do to Kate. She works to hard for that.
My heart beats fast like it always does when it comes to this secret person. Out of curiosity and paranoia. I want to keep this person close just in case they dare to try to make a move when my defenses are down.
