The Other Woman (42 page)

I follow her in. “Scarlett, this needs to end. Obviously it’s not working out.”

Her wave is dismissive.

“Bradley is at breaking point, Scarlett.”

“He’ll be fine after this,” she says, as she wraps a robe around her. “He needed to have this meltdown so he could go into Acceptance phase. Trust me – I have a degree in psychology.”

“Jayzus, Scarlett!” This woman is clearly out of touch with reality.

She looks at me in the bathroom mirror. “Do you know of someone who can replace this broken door?”

I stare at her in disbelief.
Are you fucking serious?

“We need our privacy,” she explains. “And this blood on the carpet – has to be cleaned.”

I slap my palm to my forehead before I go outside to talk to Bradley. I find him sitting on a chair, rocking back and forth.

‘Mate, this is serious, okay? You need to end this. Somehow.”

He raises his face to look at me. I’m screwed, Big. I have no money. Her father took all our money for legal fees. He
charged
us, Big. Sent us a bill! His own daughter, but he charged us. I haven’t been working after the burglary, and business has been—”

“Okay, but—”

“She leaves – she takes my assets. I’m so screwed. I leave her – I leave with
nothing
. Where do I take my kids? I’m screwed, Big. I’m screwed.”

“Okay, but you’re gonna kill her, and spend the rest of your life in prison, Brad. That’s where you’re heading if—”

“What can I do? I’ve fallen on my own sword, Big.” He throws out his palms.

I’m at a loss for words. Because he’s right. If he leaves her, he has to say goodbye to everything he owns. Suddenly, he curls up into a ball and starts to cry.

“Hey, c’mon buddy.” I move to grab his shoulder. “It’ll all work out, man.”

“I fucked up, Big. I fucked up. I lost everything when I looked at her. Then and there.”

“Okay, but I’ll help you with money. A place to stay. But you gotta get your kids out of this place. This…
situation
.”

He doesn’t answer, he just rocks.

When he stops crying, I drag my weary self back to Scarlett, who is still in front of a mirror, surrounded by tons of make-up. She has about four Band Aids on her feet. How she has managed to staunch the bleeding, I have no idea, but…we’re talking about Scarlett here – she can do
anything
.

“You okay?”

“Oh, yes,” she says in a spritely voice. The bruise around her eye has magically vanished, and there is bright red lipstick on her lips. “Where’s Brad?”

I jerk my neck outside. She walks onto the balcony, and I follow closely.

“My father called,” she says to Bradley in a casual voice. “We’ve an appointment with Anderson John in an hour. You need to get dressed.”

When Bradley stares at her, I tense up, ready to spring to action in case he decides to throw her off the balcony. To my surprise he nods, and with rounded shoulders, ambles into the shower.

One word that comes to mind as I watch my friend – trapped.

“We’ll see you later?” Scarlett says to me in a dismissive voice.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I leave the house without another word.

****

RIVAL

I’m at Arena’s house doing laps in her pool. It’s a balmy but humid night, perfect for the forty laps I plan to do. Swimming is meditative and calming, and it gives me time to reflect. Things are going great for me right now. I’ve kept the weight off, my book sales are soaring, I see my kids every day, I see
Bradley
almost every day, and our relationship couldn’t be better. He texts me first thing in the morning, and always wishes me goodnight. In fact, all my dreams are slowly being realized.

I’ve even been thinking of shopping for a property, but I am a little hesitant about living alone. So for now, I’m just checking out the real estate market. In spite of all of my successes, there’s a void in my life.

It’s Ritchie. He’s stayed away for the last two weeks. I’ve not pursued him because I respect the fact that he’s giving Bradley and me the space we need. That doesn’t stop me from missing him. I miss the laughs we shared, his strong arms around me, our long talks on his patio at night, the way he stares into my eyes when we make love, the nights where we slept entwined in each other.

I tell myself that his staying away is for the better, because nothing good can come of our “relationship.” I mean, he probably sees me as a mental patient, and probably has no long-term plans to be with me. I was just a playmate to while away time until someone suitable and permanent entered his life.

Yet I ache for him. The ache I feel for Ritchie is strong and unfamiliar. I have never felt this way about a person before. Not even for Bradley. I try my best not to think about it so that I don’t have to deal with it, but, I just can’t help it – I’m pining for Ritchie.

I tell myself that to get where I want to be (that is, to steal back Bradley from Scarlett), I have to stay focused and avoid distractions. Ritchie
is
a distraction, and I should be grateful for his resolve. Besides, as I mentioned in therapy to Dr. Camda, I never want to ever be in a situation again where a man lights up my life, because when he leaves, he will take the light with. From now on,
I
will light up my own life. It’s my defense strategy, sure, but I like it.

I swim some more laps, but after thirty-five laps, I’m tired. Maybe I should leave it here today? I’m feeling drained, lethargic, yet I haven’t done anything strenuous to be this tired.

I swim to the side of the pool and rest. When I feel someone looking at me, I look up and into Ritchie’s face. He stands on the balcony, drink in hand, watching me. Behind him I hear Arena’s muted voice.

My heart lurches at the sight of him. He doesn’t greet me, he just stares at me with almost…
sad
eyes. In fact, to me he looks as miserable as I feel. When Arena walks onto the balcony, I quickly turn away.

“I’m sending you a drink, Rival,” Arena shouts. “It’ll spur you on to finish.”

“Thanks,” I yell.

She goes back inside the house.

My eyes follow Ritchie’s every move as he makes his way down the stairs and toward me, glass of wine in hand, his eyes fixed on mine. When he reaches me, he drops to his haunches and hands the glass to me. As he does, his hand touches mine, and I feel his touch from the top of my head to the tips of my wet toes.

I try to take a sip of the wine, but droplets of water splash into my glass. Ritchie reaches over and wipes my cheeks. It is then that I realize there are tears falling into my wine.

“I miss you,” he says, in a voice etched with misery. “I have to see you. I need you. Please.”

He
needs
me. I cry harder – tears of unbridled joy.

“Tomorrow, noon, at Kinghorne Towers.”

My heart races at his words, and my head bobs.

“Don’t make any plans for the afternoon.”

I don’t answer.

“Promise?”

Something between a sob and a chuckle escapes me.

“I wanna wake up with you,” he says, kissing his fingers and placing them on my lips. I grab his fingers and press them to my cold lips. His fingers curl around mine, and he squeezes so hard, it actually hurts.

“Got your wine, Rival?” Arena asks from the balcony.

Ritchie jumps to his feet and hurries back into the house.

“Ye—” I clear the frog in my throat. “Got it,” I say, and raise my glass to her. “Thanks.”

She goes back inside and I’m alone again. Tomorrow I’m going to see Ritchie. Tomorrow I’m going to see Ritchie at a
hotel
. He said I must not make any plans for the afternoon. I smile, splash water, then go on to do a total of forty-
five
laps.

Ritchie needs me. Ritchie wants to wake up with me. Ohmygod, I just remembered, I need a Brazilian!

****

RIVAL

It feels deliciously naughty meeting Ritchie in the middle of the day, at a hotel too. I can’t stop smiling. Life is roses, sure, but the cherry on the top of my…
roses
, is my Ritchie. Did I just call him “my Ritchie?” Holy Moly! Look at me, taking liberties, staking my claim to him.

My dimples deepen, and I cover my mouth with my hand as I race to catch the hotel elevator.

Me and Ritchie alone in a hotel room – my body hums with anticipation. There’s going to be thunder, there’s going to be lightening, and expect the earth to tilt.

When the elevator opens, I see Ritchie holding open the door to a hotel room, his eyes darting around for anyone familiar, anyone who can tell on us.

When he sees me, he lets go of the door and throws out his arms. With a small laugh, I rush into them. He scoops me up and turns me around before bringing me down slowly for a hungry kiss. As we kiss, he carries me into the room where he dumps me on the bed and crashes his bulk into me.

For a few moments we hold each other tightly and bask in the overwhelming warmth of each other. Words are not necessary right now – in fact, they’d just get in the way. He draws me in tighter, plants a million kisses on my lips, crushes me to him, then holds me back to look into my eyes.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispers.

I don’t have to ask him what he means – I know
exactly
what he means. “Okay,” I say, stroking his face with both my hands. “You too – don’t stay away. I need you, Ritchie.” It’s not me talking, it’s my heart –it’s calling the shots, and my brain, it’s AWOL. All those solid walls I built around my fragile heart during hours of therapy with Dr. Camda, they’re crumbling like shortbread, and I bask in Ritchie’s light. Yet, I don’t mind – it feels a tad liberating to be vulnerable with Ritchie.

His eyes light up at my words, our pledge. “Seal it with a kiss?”

I nod and raise my lips to his. He laughs, then seals it with a beautiful kiss.

“Now,” he says in a baritone voice, his eyes dimming, his hips pressing into mine.

My response is to drop my thighs. That’s when lust steps in.

Ritchie kisses my lips, my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, and when his face disappears between my thighs, I am really glad these hotel rooms are soundproof. I
hope
that they are. It’s a luxury to be loud with our lovemaking. We’re always having to be quiet at Richie’s place, and be especially quiet when we’re at my place, so this is a great idea, and I take advantage of it by crying out in pleasure as he tongues my core.

Our lovemaking is wild, clumsy, uncoordinated, our hunger for each other getting in the way. But it doesn’t matter, we ravage each other, then go on to spend every single moment in each other’s arms.

We shower together, order room service, and then lie in bed and spoon, a tad sleepy, fully quenched. Ritchie is now a comforting weight against my back, his arms bracketing mine. I link my fingers through his, kiss them, and hold them to my breast.

“I can lie like this forever,” I whisper.

He presses his lips against my shoulder. Then the back of my neck. Then along my spine. The tenderness in his kiss makes me feel utterly cherished. His kisses dot my lower back, tickling me, eliciting a giggle. “Ritchie, what—”

“Shhh!”

I clam up as his teeth gently nip at my butt, before he kisses it. “You have a great arse,” he announces. “Sexy.”

When I chuckle, he turns me around to look at me, a huge grin on his face. We smile at each other, and in his eyes I see adoration. My arms creep around his neck to bring him to me for a kiss.

He resists. “I’m busy here,” he says as he moves to kiss my stomach.

My laugh is nervous – I have stretch marks, saggy bits, trophies of having created two human beings. I do what any woman in my position would do – I suck in my stomach. As if he hasn’t noticed them, he continues a line of steady kisses down toward my mound, my thighs, my knees, my ankles, and my feet. “Beautiful,” he utters before he retraces his steps, this time with a half-opened mouth.

When he gets to my stomach, he pauses to rest his head against it, his arms circling my waist.

Contentment oozes over me. Stop the clock – I want to preserve this wonderful moment. Lock it in. Bradley has never touched me this way before. Never made me feel so beautiful. In fact,
I
never knew I could feel this way – so light and infused with happiness, I could levitate without the help of a magician.

I roll up to kiss his hair, slightly damp from our shower. “You’re beautiful too, Mac
Handsome.
”

He smiles, and when I stare into the pools of his bright blue eyes, I think to myself how gorgeous he is. Inside and out, he’s just beautiful.

He frames my face with his forearms and looks into my eyes again. “I…I like you. A lot.” His voice is raw and almost vulnerable, a side of him I’ve never seen before. “I shouldn’t, but I do. I’m falling for you, Rival.”

He’s fallen for me. Ritchie has fallen for me. It’s like I’ve swallowed a handful of sunbeams.

Ritchie is making me feel whole again. I was in pieces, and he has put me back together, piece by piece to form this beautiful mosaic of bliss I now revel in. How can I not fall for him?

But, my reality is such that no matter how seductive his need for me is, I
cannot
fall for him, cannot reciprocate, because I have to focus. My focus has to be solely on my kids, my former life that I have steadfastly pursued, my former husband who I have ensnared, and who is now within striking distance. There’s too much at stake. My happiness comes second – I cannot reciprocate.

And yet, once again, my heart overrides all logic, and I hear myself confessing, “I really like you, Ritchie.” I hold his face with both my hands. “In fact, I
absolutely
adore you.”

Like
,
adore
,
falling
…all safe, fairly innocuous words. Unsafe words would be
I love you, I have fallen for you,
I’m in love with you.
Both of us know better, so we skirt them, saving ourselves some serious disappointment.

He kisses me again, his arms sliding under my body to lift me up to him, drawing me further into his keeping. A poignant moment that requires no further words.

As I fall asleep threaded through Ritchie, my soul appeased, my body satiated, I know one thing – I’m madly, truly, deeply in love with Ritchie.