Page 63 of One Week
“Yeah, it was nice… I fell asleep.” I attempt a sexy expression, hoping it says:I’m naked under this robe, but it’s probably useless.
He stares at me for a beat. “You want some?”
I shake my head. “No, actually… I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Oh okay, well, the room is all ready for you. I’ve got all my stuff here already,” he says and smiles. Sure enough, there’s a pile of bedding next to the sofa. He closes the distance between us, leans into me, and presses his lips on my cheek briefly. “Goodnight,” he whispers.
What a tease.
“Goodnight,” I say and head to his bedroom, giddy.
I brush my teeth, and put on my black silk nightie — it seems like a bit of a waste, but it feels good on my skin. The sun has already set and it’s dark enough to sleep.
I check my phone. There are three messages.
Did you do it yet?Corrie asks.
I smile at the sight of her words — she’s so nosy.
No. Sorry to disappoint. Not sure if it’s going to happen,I reply.
The second message is from Emma.
I hope you are having a good trip Mommy. I miss you.
My heart warms, and I wonder what she’s doing right at this moment. It’s just past ten o’clock here — four o’clock her time. She’s back from school, probably doing her homework, or watching her favorite show on her iPad.
I miss you too… so much. How was school? How is your brother? I’m going to bed now… very tired. Love ya!
It’s hard because I’ve never been away from my kids, but I remind myself that it’s just a week.
Finally, I read the messages from John, and my stomach drops.
Please don’t do this.
You can’t do this.
I’m suddenly filled with anger — it comes on so fast, it takes me for a loop. How dare he? He’s trying to manipulate me, trying to make me feel guilty. I know this must be hard for him. I know this is crazy. But so was his affair.
You certainly had no trouble doing it yourself,I reply, and turn off my phone.
I slam the phone down on the night table, and let out a long sigh.
My heart is still pounding when I sink into the soft bedding. It feels like I’m sleeping on a cloud, and in no time, my pulse slows, and my thoughts drift. This might possibly be the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. I slide my hands over the curve of my hips, across the warm flesh of my stomach, and imagine that they are Eli’s hands. I fall quickly into slumber thinking about him.
I wake in a fright. For a fraction of a second, a brief image flashes before my eyes, an avant-garde sculpture of me; all bones and red nails.
“Gabriella,” he whispers.
I spring up like a jack-in-the box. “What?! What is it?” The man must be trying to give me a heart attack.
“It’s me,” he says quietly. “It’s Eli.” His voice comes closer, and I can see the shadows of his body. It’s so dark, I can’t quite see all of him. He leans over me, and his words are jagged when he says, “I can’t sleep.”
I wrap my arm around his warm torso and pull him in. He smells so delicious, and despite the thick duvet separating us, the warm heavy weight of his body pressing on mine feels so amazing.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his words so quiet, I almost don’t hear them.
“Kiss me,” I say, thinking that if he doesn’t kiss me, I might just murder him.
