Two Weeks of Sin

“Impressive,” I said, staring at the delicious meal in front of me.

“When you're a single parent, you learn how to cook pretty quickly,” he said. “I wasn't about to raise my kids on TV dinners and fast food.”

“That's because you're a good dad,” I said with a smile.

I remembered what my dad had said, how he'd told me that Marcus had had a drug problem. Looking at him now, there was no sign of any problems, or any relapse into addiction. Yeah, maybe there was some depression, but that could be expected when you'd been widowed young like he'd been. Especially, when you loved your wife as intensely as Marcus had loved Gina.

“I try to be the dad Gina would have wanted me to be,” he said softly. “It's not always easy.”

“You make it look easy,” I said, taking a sip from my wine. “Honestly, I've seen very few fathers as devoted as you, especially single dads. You really ought to give yourself more credit. From where I'm sitting, you're doing an amazing job, Marcus.”

“I just work so damn much,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I miss so much of their childhood, so many of those special moments that only come around once. But I have to provide for them, you know?”

I nodded. “Have you considered finding another job?” I asked. “One that doesn't require such long hours?”

“Without taking a massive pay cut?” he said.

“You're smart and resourceful. I bet you could figure something out if you wanted to. What have you always wanted to do?”

Again, he stared off in the distance as he finished his beer. He turned back to me and gave me a sheepish grin, almost as if he were embarrassed by what he was about to tell me.

“Honestly? I don't even know anymore,” he said. “It's been so long since I actually imagined what I'd like to do for a living because I have a good job. I'm pretty much at the top of the company, make a good living, and can give my kids a good life. Besides, when you have to provide for someone other than yourself, you can’t really afford to be a dreamer.”

“But you said you're missing out on their childhoods and all those special moments,” I said. “And coming from someone who's own dad worked his ass off to provide a comfortable living for us, I can honestly say I'd give up some of those material things to have had more time with my dad. He missed so much, still does, and I know my sister and I would love to spend more time with him.”

Marcus got up from the table and asked, “Would you like a little more wine?”

I stared at my wine glass, which was now empty. “Yes, please,” I said, handing it over to him, “But don't think I'm going to let you get away with changing the subject on me. ”

I heard him chuckling as he walked back into the house, shaking his head as he went. The sun was starting to set and there was a chill rising in the air as evening settled in around us. I shivered a bit as Marcus handed me my refilled glass.

“Chilly?” he asked.

“A little, yeah,” I said, sipping the wine. “Hard to believe it's May. Looks like we're going to have a cool summer.”

Marcus stepped back inside without saying a word, and when he came out, he handed me one of his UCLA alumni sweatshirts. As I slipped it on over my head, I noticed that it smelled like him, and it took everything in me to not close my eyes and savor that scent.

“Thank you,” I said. “Much better.”

His shirt was way too big on me and I was absolutely swimming in it, but it felt nice and cozy. In a way, it felt like his arms were wrapped around me. I could smell him as if he was right there, holding me close. And I liked it more than I cared to admit.

Marcus was staring at me, his eyes soft and a crooked grin on his face. He appeared to like the way I looked in his clothing as well. There was something in the way he looked at me that set a fire burning low in the center of me. I couldn’t help but like it.

Maybe it was the wine making me feel bolder than I normally would be, I didn't know, but I felt compelled to act. I leaned across the table, moving closer to him, just close enough to kiss him on the cheek. But before I knew what was happening, I missed his cheek and planted a kiss on his lips instead.

Maybe it was intentional, maybe it was a subtle move on both of our parts, I didn't know. All I knew was that once our lips touched, I pulled back, gasping for air, my every nerve ending feeling like it was on fire. His eyes were wide and he looked like he'd seen a ghost, but he didn’t back away.

“What did I – ?” he started to say.

“I didn't mean to. I meant to kiss your cheek, but I – ”

I backed away quickly, falling back in my chair with tears welling up in my eyes. I've fucked up now, I thought. I kissed him, and now he probably thought that I was some stupid girl who was going to throw herself at him. Or worse, he was going to cut ties and never let me see him or his kids again.

“I'm sorry, Marcus,” I said. “I don't know what got into me. Please forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive, Emma,” he said softly. “I blame myself. I turned my head, it was all my fault and I don't want you to think I – ”

“Oh no,” I stammered. “No, I know better than that. You're a good man, you would never – ”