Two Weeks of Sin

“I see,” I said. “Well, I obviously have two.”

She was quiet and stared down at her hands. This was going to be a problem, I could tell.

“So, you were married before?”

“Yes, I was,” I said, stiffening up. I hated telling my story to new people, especially dates.

“Divorced then, I take it?”

“Uhh no, actually, she died about four years ago.”

Stacey's eyes grew wide. “I'm so sorry, Marcus. I didn't mean to – ”

“It's fine,” I said.

Though in all honesty, it was far from fine. I never stopped loving my wife, and yes, every single date felt like I was cheating on her somehow. It was an issue I was going to have to work through with Dr. Miller, but that would come in time. But I was smart enough to know that mentioning that little fun fact about myself wouldn't go over too well. It was my ‘get out of jail free’ card.

“How did she – I mean, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Car accident,” I said, my jaw clenching. “She was hit by a drunk driver. The kids weren't with her, thankfully. Zack was only a baby, Zoey was a toddler. She was out with friends, a much needed girl's night out, and well – ”

I trailed off. I could tell it made Stacey uncomfortable to hear about my dead wife. Anger, dark and abiding started to bubble up inside of me. If she didn't want to hear about it, she damn well shouldn't have asked in the first place. The awkward silence that had enveloped us earlier returned, and we ate our dinner quickly, avoiding one another's eyes.

I knew this wasn't going to work out, but I also felt bad backing out and making her go to the concert alone. As we walked to her car, she stopped and turned to me, an awkward look on her face.

“Listen, Marcus, you seem like a great guy – ”

“But it's not going to work out,” I finished for her with a smile. “I was actually thinking the same thing.”

“So, if you want to – I dunno, go home to your kids? I can probably get one of my friends to go to the concert with me,” she said. “It's no big deal.”

I got myself dumped before the date officially got started. That was a new one. But I couldn't deny that I was relieved.

“Yeah, that works. I'll just call an Uber,” I said.

“You sure? I could drive you home?”

“Nah, you go ahead,” I said. “I wouldn't want you to be late for the concert.”

She left me there, in the parking lot of the restaurant, and I called an Uber to come pick me up. Talk about a terrible first date, but hell, at least I didn't waste my time with her.

ooo000ooo

The television was on when I stepped inside, and Emma, who was sitting on the couch, nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus! You scared me!” she said with a laugh.

She was already in pajamas – a spaghetti strap tank top and boy shorts. It was hard not to notice how fit she'd gotten in the last few years. She had curves in all the right places and her tank top really accentuated her breasts. Her legs were smooth and muscular, yet lean . And yes, I was staring.

“I'm sorry, I should have called first,” I said.

Emma looked at the clock, then at me. “That was either the shortest concert in the history of concerts or you don't trust me with your babies anymore. Which is it?”

“Neither,” I said with a laugh as I took a seat across from her. She stretched those lean legs out on the couch and pushed her bust out as she stretched – not openly gawking was incredibly difficult. “We knew it wasn't going to work out pretty quickly and decided to just part ways. No need to spend the next few hours together if we hated every minute of it, right?”

“That bad?” she said, crunching up her face as she said it. Damn, she was cute.

“Yeah, it was bad,” I said and chuckled.