Gone is the urgency, the rush, the need to claim that we both felt surging through us that night at the concert. In its place is reverence and understanding, wonder and awe, disbelief and gratitude. I touch him like it’s both the first and the last time, and he makes love to me like these hours here in this bed are the last we have on Earth.
Neither of us chase our orgasm. Neither of us speed up our pace or do the things we know will make the other unravel. We soak in every second, moaning and tasting and biting and licking. He fucks me from behind, and then I roll him over to ride. He straddles my face to fuck my mouth while he sucks on my clit, and then I’m spread underneath him, hooking one leg on his shoulder.
All night long, we exist in that dark room of a universe.
My soul is at peace. My heart is finally home.
But in the back of my mind, I know the worst part is still to come.
Because I’ve finally made my choice.
And there’s still one person left to tell.
THE RAIN PELTS MY jacket as I exit the parking garage and make a left, hands in my pockets and head down. I wish I had my umbrella, wish I would have been smart enough to check the weather before I left my house, but I’m a bundle of nerves, and it was all I could do to choke down breakfast with my stomach like this.
I thought I’d already tackled the hardest part earlier this morning, that walking into the agency and handing in my two weeks’ notice would be the biggest challenge of the day. It wasn’t easy — especially when my boss offered me a raise to try to keep me. Giselle glaring at me from her office didn’t add to the comfort, either, but I ignored her altogether.
I made up my mind over the weekend.
And there was no amount of money that could change it.
I spent the morning making a list of the projects I’ll need to finish before I leave, and listing out who I think will be the best to delegate my work to once I’m gone.
And now, on my lunch break, I’m checking the next thing off my list.
I thought this would be the easy part.
The way my ribs are closing in on my lungs suggests otherwise.
The last two weeks of my life have been spent preparing me for this exact moment. I’ve dedicated every waking hour not at work to researching, analyzing, planning out strategy, compiling the documents I need, and filing the necessary paperwork to get this lunch meeting in the first place.
I’ve been so focused that I haven’t even seen Erin since she got back from her trip.
In all fairness, she told me she needed some space, too. I don’t know what happened in Mexico, but I do know the way we left things couldn’t have had her in that great of a mood. I wanted to see her the moment her plane landed, wanted to hold her and talk through everything that had happened.
But she said she needed to get sleep for school, that she had finals coming up, that she needed to focus. I think I’ve known in my gut that it’s a lie, an excuse, but the truth is I’ve been busy, too.
Maybe this is what we both needed.
Space. Time. Distance.
The rain lets up a little as I make it to the high brass doors that lead into the Palm South University Credit Union, and I pause under the overhang to remove my jacket and shake off the water as best I can. Wiping my feet on the mat, I take a deep breath, pull my shoulders back, and push through the door.
The downtown branch is much nicer than the one on campus, mahogany wood desks lining the left side of the main space, while private offices span out to my right. There’s a hall in the back that a group of women walk down as soon as I enter, and directly in front of me are seven teller windows, the brass and wood making up their stations playing well with the warm burgundy carpet.
“Good afternoon, sir,” a young man greets me from his place by the door. “How can we help you today?”
Holding my soaked rain jacket away from me as much as I can, I pull the binder full of paperwork from inside my suit jacket, relieved to see it’s still dry. “I have a meeting with Mrs. Jarwolowski.”
“Inquiring about a small business loan?” he asks.
My stomach somersaults when I answer, “Yes, sir.”
With a beaming smile, the young man leads me to the small waiting area stretched out in front of the glass-window offices, letting me know Mrs. Jarwolowski will be with me soon. He takes my jacket and hangs it on the rack near the door, and I take a seat, smoothing my clammy hands over my slacks.