Dear Future Ex-wife

I don’t want to share her with anyone. If I had it my way, I would keep her all to myself. Because I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to Harley. Even as kids, I made sure everyone knew she was my friend. Mine.

“I like the sound of that,” I admit. “We could rule the world, Queen.”

She looks at my hand on her thigh, and then her eyes lift to meet mine. We share an intense moment, one that doesn’t require words.

“What are you working on?”

“Something for our game.” With her free hand, she pats the open space behind her on the couch. “I’m almost done. You can help me finish.”

There’s plenty of room for me to slide across the leather cushion and slip behind Harley, moving her between my legs. She resumes her position, balancing the sketchpad on her thighs with the charcoal pressed between her fingers. When we were in high school, she would crawl between my legs, wrap my arms around her, and draw for hours with her head on my shoulder. It was normal, natural. Neither of us thought much about it. Not until I turned sixteen, and I couldn’t stop all of the feelings coursing through my body. I couldn’t turn off the desire that pricked my skin. My cock responded accordingly every time she was near. So many times, I wanted to pull her on top of me and kiss her until we couldn’t catch our breaths. And on those days, I disappeared for hours, desperate to find ways to hide the truth. Terrified she would never speak to me again if I made a move.

“Is this a new world, or something you were already working on?”

Harley leans her head back, resting it on my shoulder as she gets comfortable. “I started it in high school.” She flips over the sketchpad to reveal the back, her initials and the date scrawled onto it.

“I couldn’t part with it. I had this gut feeling I would need it one day.”

Maybe I was wrong about her. If Harley saved this sketchpad, then she must have felt something for me back then, hoping we would reunite one day.

“I’m glad you kept it.”

Her fantasy landscape is incredible, even without a speck of color. A castle, with high walls and impressive towers, occupies most of the scene. But like Harley, the careful attention to minor details make this piece absolute perfection. Her world is vast, with bridges suspended in the air, connecting one side of the country to the other with a network of clouds. Mermaids and other interesting creatures swim in the river that parts like the Red Sea for the knight who charges forward on his horse. She captured our ideas from high school perfectly, her world much more imaginative than the one inside my head. It’s no wonder I couldn’t code the game without her. I had to see our vision through her eyes.

We sit in silence for a while, like old times, before I get the courage to ask her more questions about her ink. “What does your tattoo mean?”

She flicks her wrist, focused on her landscape, adding slight pops of black across the sky. “How do you know it has any meaning?”

“Because I know you.”

Harley visibly shudders from my confession.

“Unicorns symbolize freedom,” she says with a sigh. “When I was leaving for LA, I couldn’t think of anything more perfect. I was getting the freedom I had craved for most of my life. I thought by leaving that I could put everything behind me and start over. But I should have known better. I had a hard time finding a job in LA, and by the time I graduated from UCLA, I was begging my dad for a job.”

“You could have done anything, Harley. You could have followed your dreams and pursued your art.”

“That’s the thing,” she coos. “I wanted to be like my dad. Like you. I wanted people to see the worlds I created on their TV screens as if they were watching a movie. And I honestly thought my dad, if given enough time, would allow me to do that. I grew up reading comics and playing video games with you. I knew I could do it. There’s nothing I wanted more. Except… well, you know what happened. My dad blocked me every chance he got.”

I lean forward, pushing the spaghetti strap off her bare shoulder, so I can dip down to kiss her soft skin. There’s nothing sexual about it. I just want to be with her. Love her. Savor every second with my favorite girl.

“Nate,” she whispers, tilting her head to the side to give me better access. “What are you doing?”

My lips roam over her shoulder, neck, and travel up her jaw. “Kissing away your pain.”

Harley chuckles between moans. “I’m not in pain.”