Present
My head is pounding like a woodpecker constantly banging one spot.
Unable to open my eyes, they feel like they are sewn together, impossible to open the lead weight—ramifications from last night’s events. Vigorously, I rub my eyes before opening them again, slowly, to be met with daylight. The sun is shining through the windows, something I’d normally enjoy but not this morning. I sit up, trying to make sense of everything.
I know the pounding head is because of the alcohol I consumed last night, but I don’t recall how I got home or who I came home with.
Panicking, I run out of my bedroom, stumbling on my shoes and clutch lying on the floor. The pain in my big toe ricochets as I knock it against the wooden floor. Hopping on one spot, I ignore the throb and rush to the living room, immediately noticing the couch is empty.
Thank fucking God. I don’t want to deal with anyone right now.
I take my time limping to the kitchen. Pouring myself a tall glass of orange juice while leaning into the cupboard, I grab the much-needed Advil.
The events of last night replay in my mind as I hobble back to my room. I remember the charity ball and the kiss I shamelessly had with Lex in the ballroom while Julian waited for me. I remember going to the club to have a good time, but that was ruined when Lex showed up.
Eric mentioned it was Lex’s club. That was it.
How did I even get home?
I swallow the juice and Advil, climbing back into my bed to fall asleep again.
My eyes spring open, the sun still shining directly into my face. Turning to my side, I lift my phone to check the time. Nine o’clock.
The screen is full of notifications—four text messages and a slew of emails. The first two are from Eric.
Eric: Lunch at Noodle House at noon. We need to talk.
Crap, what have I done? I suddenly feel an urge to vomit, thinking I can’t remember things for a very good reason. Racing toward the bathroom, I topple over the toilet, dry retching as nothing comes out. Peeling myself off the cold tiles, I drag myself back to bed and check my phone again.
Eric: Adriana will be there, but she is meeting us at 12:30. Don’t be late! Check the photos I tagged you in. I look hot AF.
I laugh, regretting it almost immediately as my head spins violently. It’d been a long time since I drank that much, and I vow never to touch tequila ever again.
The next message is from an unknown number.
Unknown number: Hey Charlie. Hope you don’t mind Eric inviting me to lunch. If it’s too much I totally understand.
As much as I don’t want to revisit my past, Adriana holds a special place in my heart. I don’t know why she feels it will be too much for me as long as she steers off the topic of her brother. I let her know I’m looking forward to catching up, moving onto my next message.
Batman: Gorgeous, I’ll be back around 4. Any chance we can have that raincheck dinner tonight? My place around 7? If you’re good, I’ve got a surprise for you. Batman has lots of tricks up his sleeve.
My mood brightens until the dark cloud begins to hover over me. I hesitate to respond. The guilt incinerating me from last night’s actions, and it just isn’t all the guilt of our sordid kiss. Lex has this power I hate admitting and it starts to weigh heavily on my mind.
I’m not cheating on Lex, we aren’t together.
So why do I feel guilty for having dinner with Julian and quite possibly some good sex in his bat cave? I shake my head, attempting to clear my thoughts, responding right away.
After a few flirty texts back and forth, going back to sleep is impossible. No matter how much I try to distract myself, I can’t be trusted with my thoughts right now. The tension is too much, and the only way to release it, apart from raiding the goody drawer is to go for a run.
The mornings are full of dedicated runners. I run as if my life depends on it, trying to forget the past twenty-four hours. My body aches as I push myself as hard as humanly possible. I stop by a bench, stretching my muscles, then pull on my hoodie to escape the morning chill. People run past me, some fast, some slow, and some run in groups, some by themselves.
A group is coming my way, running fast, but there’s one guy who runs alone, faster than anyone else. His body tenses as he picks up speed. He wears his hoodie, and I can see his phone strapped to his arm. An illusion, I tell myself, it’s not him. I’ve been down that road before thinking I saw him everywhere I went. He quickly runs past me. Tailing him are the rest of the runners in the group.
I continue to stretch my muscles when a woman slows down, stopping at the bench as well. She bends over, resting her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, but blimey, I can’t keep up with you lot.”
“Don’t worry, I’m the same.” I smile, noticing her thick British accent. “I think I spend more time as a benchwarmer than actually running.”
She laughs but slows down as she holds onto her rib cage, still trying to recover. Sitting down on the bench, I decide to join her.
“Do you run here a lot?” she asks
“Most mornings. Today I really need it.”
“Tell me about it. I haven’t had a moment to relax since I got here.”
“You’re not from here?”
“Manchester,” she answers proudly. “A long way from here.”
“Sometimes, the distance can be welcoming.”
It isn’t a coincidence I chose to reside in New York City, wanting to be as far away as possible from the West Coast. Not that it matters now, my past has finally caught up with me.
“Yeah, I do miss home.” She gazes wistfully into the sky. “But then again, home is where my man is.”
The feeling of being in love, there’s nothing like it in the world. If you’re lucky enough to have it, then hold onto it. How ironic, I think, the part about holding on. I did until the end, until there was nothing left to hold onto.
“Well, I best head off,” she announces. “I’ve got back-to-back meetings today. Can you believe that? It’s a Sunday for goodness sakes. It was really nice to meet you.”
“Nice meeting you, too.” I smile as she takes off, her long blonde hair shimmering in the morning sun.
Eric is already sitting inside at a table. As usual, his hand is glued to his phone. He glances up and stands as I walk toward him. With a kiss on both cheeks, he sits back down and motions for me to do the same.
“How’s the hangover?”
“How much did I drink?” I moan, sinking into the chair. “Everything is such a blur.”
“Let’s see, probably a bottle at the charity event, then maybe…” He starts counting his fingers. Oh God. I hang my head in shame, waiting to hear his response. “Maybe five shots at the club? I don’t know. I lost count after you disappeared on the dance floor.”
He sips his latte, grinning.
“Eric, I need you to be honest. What happened last night? I don’t remember anything after the shots I had at the bar?” I beg of him. I don’t tell him about the quick flashes running through my head, which are possibly my imagination running wild. “I mean, what happened with Lex and me?”
“That gorgeous man was all over you in the VIP area. We left to go dance, then when we came back, he’d disappeared, so you and I decided to dance, but before I knew it you and Lex were all over each other on the dance floor. Then you guys disappeared.”
I freeze, unable to say a single word. Covering my face with my hands, I let out a heavy sigh. Holy shit, did I fuck him in the club? With my eyes shut tight and drowning out the noise of the people around me, I try to remember what happened, but everything is so hazy. We were in a dark room, and I remember something felt cold on my back. My stomach begins to tie into knots, a loss of appetite knowing I’ll never get the answer without confronting Lex.
“Okay, so I take it from the silence you’re worried you fucked him?” Eric is straight to the point. “To be honest, Charlie, when I saw you coming out of the ladies’ room, you didn’t look like you had been fucked.”
“And how in hell would you know what I look like if I had been fucked?”
“I don’t know, legs wobbly, more disheveled?” He scowls, pursing his lips. “Your hair was pretty much intact as was your dress. Maybe he just felt you up. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
Maybe he thinks I shouldn’t worry about it too much, but this is Lex we are talking about here. This isn’t any new guy I can simply ignore. Every touch means something, and I crossed the line into dangerous waters without a life jacket.
Suddenly, I think of Julian, and the guilt is accompanied with nausea. I can blame the alcohol, right? You’re not eighteen anymore.
My thoughts are interrupted as Adriana strolls toward us. Eric and I stand, hugging her before we sit down again to order our lunch. My appetite has dwindled to nothing, so I order a salad, but even when it arrives I barely touch it.
We chat about the charity ball and what gossip was splashed on page six this morning. Adriana proudly talks about her boutique, how she started it, and the designs she will stock as well as her own creations. I’m so proud of her and what she’s achieving. She has wanted this for as long as I can remember, and to be successful in New York City is a big achievement in the fashion world.
Eric excuses himself when his phone rings with a potential booty call. Welcoming his absence, I turn to face Adriana when he’s out of sight.
“Adriana, I need to ask you something…” I hesitate, wondering if I should involve her in the mess I’ve created for myself. “Have you spoken to Lex since last night?”
She places her fork down, wiping her mouth with her napkin while grinning. “Yes, I have.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Were you so wasted you don’t recall last night? So now you’re trying to find out what happened between you and Lex?”
I wring the napkin on my lap, anxiously trying to string a sentence without sounding like a whore. “Yes, kind of. Look, I’m not that kind of girl,” I rush, trying to defend my actions. “I don’t usually go out and get wasted on a Saturday night. Most of the time, I’m at Nikki’s house spending time with her son.”
“Hey, listen, Char…” The nickname brings back the nostalgia of our friendship. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. One look at you, and I know you aren’t that type of girl. You never were. That’s why Lex loved you so much.”
Her words are like tiny knives, stabbing me one by one in the heart.
Loved. That’s why he loved me so much.
Past tense, I keep telling myself.
He isn’t my future anymore.
“Look, he didn’t tell me much, to be honest, only that you didn’t have sex. He was clear on that when I asked him. Oh, and that stupid bitch, Samantha, was there,” she huffs.
“What? Samantha was there?”
My memory begins to clear. We were exiting the club, and I heard laughter, familiar laughter. The feeling of wanting to be violently ill on the sidewalk engulfed me when I saw her face, and Lex trying to restrain her from entering the club.
“Yes, she was. She wasn’t allowed to enter the club, so she made a big scene, and Lex, of course, had to calm her down. It’s not the best publicity for the club since the paparazzi swarm that place.”
Adriana continues to explain what happened. How Samantha was already drunk, and how she’s having massive custody issues with Chris, her ex, regarding their daughter. Adriana had only heard about her through the grapevine after ceasing contact with her after she and Lex split up. A part of me feels sorry for Samantha after hearing what she’s going through, but it isn’t my place to get involved. I’d played a part in ruining her life many years ago and regret still weighs heavily on my shoulders for my careless actions.
Eric comes back to the table, excitedly talking about a date he’s going to have with this guy tomorrow night and what he should wear. I point out since the date involves a movie that he might want to leave his Versace suit hanging in the closet. He pouts, as usual, any excuse to wear that suit.
We say goodbye to each other. Adriana and I make plans to have dinner on Tuesday night, just the two of us to catch up on old times.
Back at my apartment, I plonk myself on the couch and try to piece the puzzle together. I didn’t fuck Lex last night, but who knows, maybe I gave him head or something.
Shit. I’m mad as hell at Lex.
No good can come of being around him.
I need to focus on the positive, my fiancé, my future husband.
It’s seven on the dot when I knock on Julian’s door dressed in my off-the-shoulder black dress. The moment his door opens, his loving smile onsets my guilt.
“Geez, Alfred is slacking off. Batman has to answer the door himself?”
He grabs my hand, pulling my body into his, and kisses me deeply. His tongue softly teases mine, desperation in his moans until I pull away momentarily, a reaction of guilt, and play it off as a joke.
“If that’s how you’ll greet me every time, you might as well fire Alfred.”
“Come inside, gorgeous.”
As I walk into his apartment, it still takes me by surprise at how much it actually looks like the bat cave in the movies. The walls are dark but still have a warm ambiance.
We stand in his living room, which is very much like mine, not too large. A brown leather sofa sits in front of a massive flat-screen television. What’s it with men and their obsession with size? Opposite to that are rows and rows of bookshelves. They are crammed with so many books, which is expected considering he writes for a living.
He takes my hand, leading me to the kitchen, where I’m surprised to see the dining table set up with the plates and cutlery perfectly positioned, and two candelabras sitting in the middle of the table, the flames burning brightly.
“Oh wow, Julian, this is beautiful,” I say in awe.
A romantic gesture, but that’s Julian, he’s such a romantic guy.
He motions for me to take a seat, then he pours some wine into a glass. I’m not sure if I can handle any more alcohol, but I don’t want to offend him so I take tiny sips as he serves the first course.
We chat about the charity ball which led to a conversation about his work with Hungarian orphans. I watch him as he passionately tells the story about his journey and how much work he has done to help the children. The emotions are getting the better of him when he chokes up slightly. I lean and place my hand on top of his.
Here, before me, is a man who has a huge heart. He has so much compassion, more than anyone I’ve ever met.
Julian will never leave me without an explanation, nor will he ever hurt me so deeply.
And it always comes back to this.
Why am I constantly comparing him to Lex?
When we finish our meal, he clears the table while I wander back to the living room.
“Are you ready for your surprise now?”
His eyes dance as if a piece of forbidden fruit is being dangled before him.
I eagerly wait in anticipation as he walks out of the kitchen with a small plate of—wait! Is that? Yes, red velvet cupcakes with buttercream frosting.
“How did you know these are my favorite?”
My curiosity piques with drool almost trickling down the sides of my mouth
“A little birdie told me… Bakers in Brooklyn.”
That’s my favorite place in the whole world. They make the most scrumptious desserts, and these red velvet cupcakes are my weakness—next to Louboutins, of course.
“That’s funny, Bakers like your surname,” I point out.
“Yes, like my surname and my auntie’s.”
It takes a moment for the penny to drop. “Your aunty owns Bakers in Brooklyn? Julian, I could marry you right now.”
I lean over, positioning my body, so I’m straddling him. Grabbing the cupcake, I take a bite, closing my eyes and immersing myself in the different flavors. As I lick my lips, Julian’s hands sit nicely on my hips as he slowly grinds himself against me. I don’t know what feels better, the taste of him or the cupcake.
Then, he slowly pulls my dress above my thighs. His kisses move to my neck as he cups my ass making me moan, my eyes closing in delight.
The image of Lex plunging his fingers inside me flashes before me, breaking me from this moment. Letting out a whimper, my eyes open wide and in shock.
Oh fuck, I couldn’t have let him do that to me.
The sound of my phone vibrating in my purse interrupts us, a distraction that can’t be any more welcome. Julian pulls away like a gentleman, asking me if I need to answer it. I come up with an excuse about waiting for an important text from a client.
I just need to dissect the image—how every part of me begged for Lex to fuck me hard against the cold refrigerator door—but now isn’t the time. My ring almost jumps off my finger and punches me in the face, reminding me where I am, who I’m with, and most importantly—that I said yes.
Climbing off Julian, I take a deep breath while fumbling in my purse. The guilt is a chain around my neck, and worried he can sense it, I side-eye him only to see him fiddling with his watch.
You’re being paranoid. I obviously don’t have ‘I got fingered by my ex last night’ tattooed on my forehead.
Finally finding my phone, I pull it out with an unknown number on the screen.
Unknown number: Good evening, Charlotte, I want a chance to explain to you what happened last night. Please, it’s not what you think. Just let me explain. Lex.
How on earth did he get my number? Eric, the little snake.
Julian takes a call that comes through on his phone, excusing himself to the kitchen. I sit there, numb for ten minutes, wondering what I should reply with. I can’t come up with anything, so I send him a text asking him to explain.
Unknown number: I haven’t seen Samantha in eight years, not since I left her. Adriana told me she is going through a nasty divorce, and her ex is fighting for custody. She was drunk last night and wanted entry into the club, but I refused, and so she made a scene.
I don’t know what to believe. He told me he wouldn’t lie to me, yet this whole situation is one big fuck-up. Part of me wants to believe it’s true, but it still hurts like hell. Typing back, I ask him to check in the mirror to see if his nose is getting bigger. He responds quickly, turning my words around as usual.
Unknown number: My nose looks fine to me, can’t say that about other parts though.
Unable to hide the smile playing on my lips, it’s obvious some things never change. I’m not sure how to respond without encouraging his naughty behavior, but of course, my sadistic inner self is telling my fingers to type.
I quickly respond, Julian stepping back into the room, apologizing.
There’s a last-minute press conference tonight at town hall for a political scandal that has exploded, and I see it coming—he has to leave.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous.” He takes my hand, kissing my knuckles. “I promise when we live together and we’re married, it won’t be this bad.”
Marriage—the word strikes a chord best not played in my head right now.
This is the life of a journalist—chasing the lead.
I assure him I’m fine. We’ll have plenty of other nights to enjoy each other’s company. He kisses me deeply, thanking me for being so understanding.
On the cab ride back home, I play with my phone, desperately wanting to ask Lex about the kitchen, but I don’t want him to know I have no clue what happened. Using my tactics when in court, I try to hold the upper hand, not showing any weakness.
But Lex is a game-player, and his method is downright dirty.
Inside the cab, I squirm on the leather seat. When my apartment is in view, I can’t pay the driver any faster, exiting the cab and running upstairs in a mad rush.
Shutting the door behind me, I head straight for my room and change into my nightie. Quickly washing my face and brushing my teeth, I climb into bed despite the early hour.
I need to release this sexual tension and now.
Turning on my lamp, I reach into my bedside drawer and pull out my good friend, Mr. Rabbit. Relaxing, I place it in between my legs, slow swirls making the ache unbearable.
Dropping Mr. Rabbit on the bed, I slide my hand further, rubbing, delightfully surprised by how incredibly wet I am. I move faster, imagining Lex fucking me hard and fast against the wall. I remember how his cock would throb inside me, and how intense his thrusts were.
It’s enough to push me over the edge, an orgasm barreling through me as I arch my back and moan loudly.
Trying to catch my breath, poor Mr. Rabbit is lying helpless beside me. What a waste bringing him out.
With a satisfied smile, my eyelids become heavy, and I drift into a peaceful sleep.
And in my dreams, I only see his face, I only feel his touch.
The man who promised me a life together nine years ago.
