Sealed Hearts

Three

~ ~ Adam ~ ~

I stood watching her hasty getaway. Those long thick waves tumbling down her back, the ends catching on the breeze.

Cursing, my feet itched to chase her down, apologise again and tell her the truth behind my sneaking out of bed at the crack of dawn to avoid her. And that it hadn't been about her. She had done nothing wrong, in truth she had done everything right... more than right.

But I didn't because I was the fucking scum of the earth.

I'd slept with a woman, a woman half my age, less than twelve months after the death of my wife —the only woman I would ever love.

Closing the door, her stricken eyes haunted my thoughts as I headed toward the kitchen. My head was banging like a marching brass band and the painkillers were upstairs in the bedroom. The same bedroom I'd just slept with a total stranger.

How messed up was that?  I'd suffer from it. I deserved to feel like shit.

Coffee brewed, I poured myself a large mug and sat down, staring out toward the garden that Emma had loved to spend hours in when she was alive. I'd barely touched it, rarely ever stepping foot outside. But Hank, my gardener, had kept it just as beautiful. I could at least do that for her.

Barely a half-hour later, I heard the front door open, and slam shut.

"Adam?"

It was Chris. I didn't answer, sure he would make his way through.

"Jesus, Adam. You put the phone down, so I headed straight over." He looked over his shoulder. "Is she still here?"

"No," I hung my head before meeting his stare. "I think she heard me on the phone to you. Asshole!"

"Hey, hey." He held up his hand to protest.

I waved it off. "And ran out the door as if I'd lit a fire under her ass." I blew out an agonised breath, leaning back in my chair; my fingers wrapped around my mug.

"Phew, okay." He was already opening a cupboard door and grabbing himself a mug. Chris treated my home like his second home. "So, what's the problem?" He poured himself a coffee then made a beeline over to the refrigerator.

Had he not listened to anything I'd said over the phone?

Sitting himself in the chair opposite. "So, I assume you will not be seeing her again?"

"Jesus, Chris! Are you for real? I not only dishonoured the memory of my wife. I may have just scarred that poor young woman for life."

He blew over the top of his mug before taking a sip, unconcerned with my outburst. "How old was she?"

I cringed; clearly, I'd lost my senses last night.  Blame it on the alcohol?   Doubtful.   "She was young enough to be my daughter." I shrugged. "Don't know, guessing maybe twenty."