Sleeping With My Married Ex

Chapter 15

I forgot just how cold Baltimore is in late December. I bundle the coat I'm wearing tightly, yanking the hood down as far as it can go. It's 60-something over in Los Angeles right now. Although I checked the weather for here before I boarded for my flight, I forgot what high-30's, low-40's really feels like. Freaking cold. That's what it feels like.

I toss my oversize suitcase that contains more Christmas gifts for others than my own clothing into the trunk of my rental. I could have had my parents, or even my brother who is home from the middle east for the holiday's, pick me up, but I need the car. It's been four and a half months since I've saw anyone. I have a lot of traveling and catching up to do.


I park the car outside of my step-aunt's house twenty minutes later where my family is. We always get together with the step-family Christmas mornings for breakfast. Digging in the suitcase for the bag containing the gifts for everyone present, I stomp up the snow covered stairs, white Christmas, and pound on the door. It flies open instantly, my sister, fifteen years my junior but only six inches shorter than me, slings the door open and launches herself at me. I stumble at the weight. "Get off," I bark after quietly returning the hug.

Much to my dismay, it seems everyone wants to hug me, though no one dares to kiss me. Some lines are better left uncross. I've never been that big on affection outside of personal relationships. And according the Warren-the-ever knowing, I'm limited there as well. I get it from my mother.  

"How's LA?" My mom ask.
"Warm. I almost jumped on the next plane back when I felt how cold it is." I put the bag of gifts under the tree. They can sort through them whenever they please. I hang my coat on the rack. "I have a few days break coming up next year. I'm thinking of flying over to Hawaii."
"By yourself? You need a chaperon." Her way of saying she wants to go. She says this whenever I decide to take a trip somewhere she thinks is cool.
I smile. "No. Sana's going with me. Her brothers might go as well."
"You guys still need a chaperon."
I skip past her to go sit at the table next to my brother. "Sup," he greets.
"Sup," I reply. My mother always found it odd how the two of us can manage to catch up with a single syllable. We've never been that close. As children we fought every day. Fist fought, with me winning all times except two. Our relationship became better once we lived in separate houses. Now, I even talk to him on the phone for about an hour a few times a week when he finds time during his tour. Our conversations are usually random and silly, or involve me reprimanding him for something. That brother of mine, he tends to make decisions for the wrong reasons. "How long are you here for."
"I leave in two days."
"Same as me." I try to fork a pancake from his plate, but he growls like some savage beast and I grin cheekily. It doesn't work. "They didn't get you any time to play." Standing up, I walk into the kitchen to wash my hands. "You going to grandma's for dinner?"
He shakes his head. "Going to a friends."
"Another random hooker, or someone I know?"
"There you go-"
"Being a bitch and all," I finish for him, rolling my eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. Blah. Blah. Yadda. Yadda. I know. But I wouldn't be one if you weren't a hoe."
He ignores my comment, because he knows it's true. Men and their player complex. "I'm stopping pass grandma's for lunch though."
"Yeah, me too."
"Where are you going?"
"Warren's. You wanna ride with me or should I take you back to the house to get mommy's truck?" They rode over here in my step-dad's car. I pile my plate with pancakes and bacon. No eggs for me. No syrup either. Just a little butter and some cut strawberries. Isn't it wonderful when you family loves you enough to make your favorite foods for your visit. I'm pretty certain my grandmother made potato salad just for me and Warren will have a triple chocolate cheesecake with my name on it from his mom. I rub my hands together in excitement.

My aunt, donning her infamous Santa hat, passes out the gifts from under the tree. I didn't expect much. I usually don't. I have a habit of telling everyone not to get me anything because I don't plan on buying them something. But that excuse doesn't fly when you've missed the last five birthday dinners.

I look at the little pile in front of me after I unwrap everything. $100 worth of Kindle cards, some knitting needles and the softest yarn ever -I want to bundle my face into it like a kitten-, a squeaky toy for Kit, my new bengal kitten, and some lotions. I fiddle with the knitting needles, wondering what could I make with such soft yarn.

My brother taps my shoulder. "I'm ready when you are." I glance at the clock to see the two hands pointing at the twelve. I bundle my gifts, say my goodbyes, and promise to swing by once more before I go back to Los Angeles. I drive to the house, despite my brother's protest to let him. No way. The guy was a serious speed demon and it seems like he's gotten faster after joining the army. Back at the house, he hops into my mother's truck and we peel off back over to the east side to grandma's house we go.

It's practically impossible to get my brother and I together at the same time, with him always away on at some base and me jet setting across the world whenever I get a break. That's why I find half of my aunts and cousins already at my grandmother's house hours before dinner. It's weird. They usually run on CP time, but today they're hours early.

As I guessed: POTATO SALAD! I wiggle in my spot and watch my grandmother pile my plate high with it. Potato salad, greens, and ham. Heaven.

I plant myself on the sofa next to my cousin Prill, and watch the babe kids rip and run to no avail. We chat quietly. She tells me all the rumors that's been flying around in the family lately. I shake my head at some of them. The ones about me are laughable because not a single person in my family knows anything about my personal life. I like to keep it that way. I use my brother and Prill as cannon fodders. About three years ago, around the time Prill was pregnant and my brother recently joined the army, all eyes turned to me. Nothing worst than having a bunch of nosy, gossip relatives trying to dig into your life. There had to have been about ten Warren rumors. Even he frowned his face up at some of them. I chuckle, recalling his reaction when I told him one in particular. I shudder at the thought if any of them new about me and my most recently escapade earlier this year. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I don't like thinking about that.

Gawd, I miss my best friend most. I can't wait until I get to his place tonight.

My brother, Prill, and I sit here watching everyone else. We always felt like the odd ones out at get-togethers, with only us three being in the same age range while the rest of my cousins are ten years and more younger than me. But they're family and entertaining to watch.

I'm suppose to stop pass my dad's aunt's house as well. Since they only live fifteen minutes away, I decide to swing by quickly before heading to Warren's where I'm suppose to be by 4PM.


I'm late. It's close to 5pm by time I pull up in front of Warren's house. Amber called not long ago to ask where I was. I told her I'd be there in a few, then pressed down on the accelerator. Maybe coming home on Christmas day wasn't the brightest idea. However, I have to be back at the center on Wednesday and was at work until late last night.

There are a lot of cars parked on the street. More cars than usual. As expected. I'm lucky I managed to find one directly in front of Warren's house. I wonder if he set it up that way. I damn near have to force myself out the car. All I want to do is crawl into a warm bed and sleep the rest of this day away. But the promise of triple chocolate cheesecake is enough to keep me up. For now. At the trunk, I pull the last bag out of the suitcase with gifts for my friends. Shutting the truck, I press the button on the little clicky thing that locks the doors and sets the alarm.

These cowboy boots aren't meant for slick snow cover hills. I have to take baby steps along the shoveled path so that I don't fall. I'm halfway up the the walkway when the door opens, "I said okay," and shuts.

Maybe it's because I'm extremely sleepy right now or the fact that the sun has started to set and the temperature has begin to dropped that I'm hallucinating. It could be low blood sugar, but I'm neither bleeding nor a diabetic. I squeeze my eyes together and open them again. Nope. Still there. "Why are you here?" I blurt out, realize how rude that sounds, and start again. "I mean, when did you and Warren become so buddy-buddy...that you're at his house?"
"Shouldn't the first thing you say be 'hi', 'Merry Christmas' or something along those lines."
"Sorry. Hi. Merry Christmas. What are you doing here?"
Donovan walks down the path and stops a few feet away from me. Bundled in his coat, hat and scarf, to protect him from the cold and snow that's suppose to start again, he looks so handsome. I can smell his cologne mixed in with the cold. It's so nostalgic that I want to laugh. He doesn't say anything and I realize he's waiting for me to move out the way. "Oh. Sorry." I step a little into the snow so he can pass.
"Go inside. Amber's looking for you," he says as he walks down the path. No backwards glance. No smile.
"Amber's looking for you he says. No 'hello' or anything," I mumble as I walk up towards the house. I stop, feeling slightly ashamed for some odd reason. If the situations were flipped, would  I want to speak to him. Would I really want to speak to the guy I was involved with while married to another, who dumped me like it was nothing, then left and moved out of state without so much as a single word? I grit my teeth, the answer obvious. No. I wouldn't. I probably would slit his throat if I ever saw him again.

I turn around and slide down the path until I reach the sidewalk. Walking over to his truck, I knock on the passenger window. I motion for him to roll down the window. He rolls it down halfway. "What?" he says in that monotone way. This time I deserve it.
"Is it okay if I get in? Please. I have something to say and it's cold out here. It's kind of important."
He rolls the window up and I hear the doors unlock. Quickly, I open the door and shift inside before he changes his mind. I place the bag down by my feet. "Where are you going?"
"What do you have to say?" he cuts straight to the point.
"I'm sorry. That's what I want to say." There it is. The words I've been too much of a punk to say since July. The reason I've felt like such an ass. "I left on such bad terms. That's not what I wanted."
"You don't always get what you want." Bitter words. Honest words.
I sigh. "Nope. I don't." I stare over the dashboard. The storm clouds roll in closer. "But still...I admit I was wrong." I bite at my bottom lip for a moment. "I'm not good at this. The whole apologizing thing. I never have to."
"I can tell."
"You're not making this easy on me, are you? For once in my life I'm laying down
my pride, trying to be humble and modest, for lack of better terms."
He snorts.
"You scare me."  
"I what? I-"
"No. No. Not in the physical, but the emotional and mental. You scare the hell out of me, Donny. You always have. Half the time I don't even know what I'm doing around you, or why you even want to be around me. Then at other times I'm wondering why I'm even around you. I have things I want to do. I can't be in anything that remotely symbolizes a relationship. I'm not good at putting other people before myself, but there were too many times for comfort when I wondered what you would want over what I wanted. This...me going to California, it's what I wanted to do for awhile. You just happened to walk in at the wrong time. So, sorry. I apologize for the way I ended things, for saying what I did, for not talking to you about it, for not talking to you afterwards either, or for-"
"I get it. Stop."

I stop. My hands are clasp together in my lap. My thumbs twiddle waiting for him to say something else. Anything. The silence stretches on for thirty seconds before I cave. I've never been a patient person. "You're still pissed at me, aren't you?" Though I don't think I'm so important that he would hold a grudge for so long.

He starts the car. A sign for me to get out?
"Where are you going?" I ask.
He shifts into drive and pull off before I open my door. I guess that's not a sign for me to get out. Yet. I buckle the seat belt instead.
"You're sorry for not talking. Then talk. And I don't want to hear you apologize either."
"Sir, yes sir."
He turns and heads toward the city. "I'm not playing with you today."
"Good. Because I was serious when I apologized."
"Talk."
I shift until I can face him completely. "You're not even going to say you accept or don't accept? Nothing? Just bark talk and expect me to talk."
"Either you say what you have to say or I'll put you out at the corner so you can walk back."
I suck my teeth. "As if it will ever actually happen that way."
His lip twitches. Does that mean I'm getting to him? What will it take for me to see that smile I can only see on my screen saver? I wonder if he now smiles like that even remotely for someone else. "I heard you received some kind of award last month. Congratulations."
"How did you hear that."
"Anthony."
He steals a glance or two before shifting his attention back on the road. His shoulder's stiffen. "You've talked to my brother?"
"Once or twice. Don't ask how he got my number, but he called."
He jaw tightens and I feel my stomach dip. Did I just put myself back in the dog house? Damn it. Then again, what am I even doing right now? I thought I only wanted to apologize. Why now am I trying to get back in his good grace? Is that even what I'm doing or could I simple be trying to smooth the ice? I raise my index and middle fingers to my temple and rub slow circles to help release the pressure that built during the plane ride.
He steals another glance. "Are you okay?"
I nod. "Just tired. I've been up for over..."I look at the clock, "39 hours now."
"Recline the chair and rest."
My hands drop. "You told me to talk, remember?"
"Now I'm telling you to rest."
I reposition myself, pulling my legs up onto the seat and hugging them to my chest. I rest my cheek on my knees. "I live in Downtown Los Angeles."
"I told you to rest."
"Sitting like this is comfortable to me. You know that. So hush and let me talk."
He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath.
"For the first month I rented this room out from someone until my friend's brother moved out their apartment to work up in New York. Now I share a place with Sana. It's really nice. Has a great view, and on days when the smog isn't too thick, you can even see the mountains."
His lips twitch again.
"I'm a guest researcher for Cedar's Sinai pediatric department."
"I thought you hate children."
"I can't stand the little bastards. But they're cute and adorable when I can give them back after an hour or so."
"You're going to be a horrible mother with that attitude."
"That's why I need a maternally husband." Donovan is good with children. I watched him play with his nephews those years ago. He spent almost as much time with the children at the barbecue as he did with me. He loves children, and children love him in return. Go figure!
His lips twitch again.
"It's a longitudinal study, so I have to be there for the entire study year, but that's okay. I love LA. It's like a bigger, slightly more interesting Baltimore. On weekends, I usually go crash at Sana's parents house with her. Or i'll go to the beach, shopping, meet up with some other people. I'm not as close to the coast as I would like to be, but I can get there in fifteen mintues or so on the highway. I have a cat name too. Kit, my bengal kitten. He's so cute. So how about you. How's life now that you're free?"
"Fine."
"Just fine?" I'm sure it's more than just fine being free from that witch. His divorce became offical the week before I left. "Testing the water's yet?"
He stops the car at the red light. "A bit."
That means yes. "Nice girls right? You're not dipping into that old spice are you?"
He laughs. Inside I scream in success. It's a small feat, probably doesn't mean anything, but to hear his laugh again. It makes me smile.
The light turns green and he pulls off. I've been watching the roads from the corner of my eyes the entire time, trying to figure out where he's driving. To the market. Maybe Warren forgot something. It better not be my triple chocolate cheesecake.
"No. I'm not dipping into the old spice." Good. "What does that even mean?"
"I don't know. Just popped into my head." I shrug. I take a deep breath. "If you don't like what you're testing, is it okay if I call you sometime, while I'm in Cali?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Does that mean no?"
"What do you think it means? I don't enjoy being your puppet."
I try not to roll my eyes. He definitely is making this difficult. "You're to hard headed to be anyone's puppet. And, just because I left and haven't called doesn't mean I've forgotten. I've been trying to come up with an excuse to accidentally-on-purpose stop by the house when you might be there. Figured I'd buy a little gift for Anthony or something and bring it by."
"Just Anthony?"
God, but it's so cute how he gets pissed when I mention his brother. You would think I still had a crush on the guy or something. "If I bought something for you, would you accept it?"
"Depends on what it is?"
A logical response. The car becomes silent. I don't know what else to say, and he doesn't seem interested and continuing the conversation. But he wants me here. That much I know. Otherwise, why else would he have drove off with me still in the car? He could have just let me say my piece and then sent me inside. He hadn't. He drove off where it would only be the two of us. It doesn't look like he plans to throw me in a river or something. This is his way of giving me a chance. If it's not, it is now.

I sigh and let my eyes drift closed. "I loved you, you know."

The car swerves.

I sit up, my feet falling to the floor as I clutch the door handle so tight my knuckles white. "Damn. I would think you've never heard those words spoken to you before the way you swerved and all."
He straightens the car. Does a double take. "I haven't. Not from you. To anyone. Not your family or friends. I didn't think you're capable of saying something like that."

I understand what he means. Again, I get it from my mother. But since we're on the subject, might as well swallow a bitter pill and force it out. "Actually, I'm not that capable."
"I know."
"You know? What exactly do you know?"
"Warren told me," he says. He pulls the car into the parking lots and finds a closest to the entrance.
"What did Warren tell you? And why are you two even talking to each other?" I ask as we exit the car.
"I saw him when he cleared out your apartment, put your stuff in storage. He said I could hate you."
"That bastard," I cut in.
"But don't blame you too much. He said you had a disorder, one he wouldn't explain, and said I should ask you about it." Inside, he stops and looks at me. "Are you sick."
I brust into giggles, clapping at how ridiculous this is. "Nooo. I'm not sick."
"Then why did he say that?"
"Because he's a know-it-all who believes I have a commitment phobia."
He nods and walks towards the ice. "That makes sense."
I ball my fist at his back. "Don't accept that so easily. It's not like it's true or anything."
He grabs a large bag of ice and toss it onto his shoulder fireman style. "Sounds about right to me."
"Are you pulling my chain or something?"
"No." He looks around, searching for the appropriate aisle. "I'm no psychology major, but I'm not stupid either. Your closest relationship is with Warren, and even then you treat him coldly at times. You keep everyone at the distance.Only showing your happy, carefree side because you're afraid of what people say or think or even feel if they get too close. What does that sound like to you."

I lag behind him, not liking his analysis of me. Definitely not liking him and my best friend suddenly become friends and discussing me. That's against the code.

He grabs something off the shelf. At the register he pays and logs the bags out into the truck's trunk. He gets in but I just stand there at my door. I feel exposed because he's right. I smack my palm against my forehead.

"Stop that." He catches my hand before I can do it again. When did he get back out and walk around? I pull at my hand but he holds onto it. "I won't lie and say I did want to strangle you for a while, but that was then. I'm not petty enough to hold a grudge against someone who's trying so hard. You do only what you know how and no one has ever corrected you on it. You handled the situation poorly, but you've apologized for it already." He lets go of my hand and opens the passenger door.
"Does that mean you accept my apology? That I don't have to resort to drastic measures and get on my knees to beg?" I ask before I slip into the car.
He shuts the door and walks around to his side. "You would have begged? Really?"
"If I had to." No I wouldn't.
"No you wouldn't." He knows me so well. The car starts and we make a way back to my loose mouth best friend's. "I would have liked to see that though."
"I'm just sure you would have."
"I'll save you from public humiliation and accept. See how accommodating I am."
"Oh, how do you do it." I roll my eyes and I reach down into the bag and pull out a little box. "I did bring you something. I wasn't lying when I said I was coming up with excuses to stop by."
"What's that?"
"I'll give it to you on one condition."
"And that is?"
I point to the interface of the truck. "Can you turn the heat up. I think my toes are frozen."


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