Jennifer shot a sharp, annoyed glance as she wiped between her thighs with a damp towel, her movents rough with frustration. The scent of sex still clung to the air, thick and intoxicating, but her expression was anything but satisfied.
"Always cumming inside ..." she muttered, her voice laced with exasperation.
"What if I actually get pregnant, huh? Then what?" She tossed the towel into the sink, her fingers lingering between her legs as if checking for evidence of my claim.
I chuckled, pulling up my pants with deliberate slowness, my eyes locked onto hers in the mirror. The smirk on my face only deepened her scowl. "Relax, Jennifer," I teased, buckling my belt.
"You love it when I fill you up. Besides, you’re the one who begs for it every ti." I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear just to watch her shiver. "But if it makes you feel better, next ti I’ll pull out... after I’ve made you squirt twice."
She let out a huff, her cheeks flushing with a mix of irritation and lingering arousal. "You’re impossible," she hissed, but there was no real heat behind it—just the familiar dance of our twisted dynamic.
I straightened up, adjusting my shirt. "I’m going back," I said, my voice casual, as if we hadn’t just fucked like animals in her daughter’s bathroom. "Emily and Nathalie are still waiting for ."
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Hmph," she scoffed, but she didn’t try to stop . She knew as well as I did that this ga was far from over.
I stepped out of the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind . The dining room was quiet, the remnants of dinner still scattered across the table.
Emily and Nathalie sat side by side, their plates pushed away, their expressions unreadable. Emily’s eyes lifted the mont she heard my footsteps, sothing unspoken flickering in her gaze. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor.
"I want to talk to you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Alone."
I nodded, my expression softening. "Okay," I replied, gesturing toward the door. "Let’s go for a walk."
The cool night air wrapped around us as we stepped into the garden, the faint rustle of leaves and distant hum of crickets the only sounds breaking the silence.
Emily walked beside , her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her fingers digging into her own skin as if trying to hold herself together. The moonlight cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the tension in her jaw, the way her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.
I could feel the storm brewing inside her—anger, guilt, longing—all of it swirling just beneath the surface. We walked for a few monts without speaking, the gravel crunching under our feet like a countdown to the words she was struggling to say.
Finally, I stopped, turning to face her. The moonlight caught the glimr of unshed tears in her eyes. "Emily," I said softly, reaching for her hand. She flinched at first, but didn’t pull away. "Talk to . Whatever it is, I’m here."
She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I don’t even know where to start," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"I hate that you lied to . I hate that I believed you. I hate that I wanted to believe you." A tear spilled down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily. "But what I hate most is that even after everything, even knowing the truth... I still miss you. I miss us."
Her words hung between us, raw and heavy. I stepped closer, my thumb brushing away another tear. "Emily, look at ," I murmured. When she finally t my gaze, her eyes were filled with a pain so deep it made my chest ache.
"I never ant to hurt you. Not like this. But I can’t lie to you now—not about this. Every mont with you, even the ones built on lies, was real to . You were real to ."
She shook her head, more tears falling. "How can I trust that? How can I trust anything you say?"
"Because I’m not asking you to trust my words," I said, my voice rough with emotion.
"I’m asking you to trust this." I pressed her hand to my chest, letting her feel the steady, frantic beat of my heart.
"I love you, Emily. Not as Mike. Not as so role I played. As . As the man who would burn the world down just to see you smile."
Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. "You don’t understand," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"I loved Mike. I grieved for him. And now I’m standing here, feeling things for you—things I shouldn’t feel. It makes feel like I’m betraying him. Like I’m betraying myself."
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs wiping away her tears. "You’re not betraying anyone, Emily. Mike loved you more than anything. And if he were here, he’d want you to be happy. Truly happy." My voice dropped to a whisper. "He’d want you to live. To love. To feel."
She let out a shuddering breath, her body trembling against mine. "But what if I can’t? What if I’m too broken to love anyone again?"
"You’re not broken," I said fiercely, pulling her against . "You’re strong. Stronger than you know. And I’ll spend every day proving to you that you can love again. That you deserve to love again."
She buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "I’m so scared," she admitted, her voice muffled. "Scared of losing you. Scared of loving you. Scared that this is all just another lie."
I held her tighter, my lips pressing into her hair. "I’m not going anywhere, Emily. I promise you that. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the pain I caused you. Just... give a chance. Give us a chance."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "And my mom? What am I supposed to tell her?"
I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, my touch gentle. "I’ll handle your mom. You don’t have to worry about her. And your dad—he’s safe, Emily. He’s living outside the city, sowhere peaceful. If you want to see him, we can go today. We can go right now."
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