A Deceiving Passion

Frozen Love

He caressed her further and only glanced at her in the mirror. He then leaned in, his warm breath approaching her ear.

It was spot on, as it had been the day before.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered, slowly allowing his left hand to reach for hers, bringing her fingertips to the side of his face.

"Because it feels so familiar and I can't place it..." she nearly panted, trying hard not to let her tears take over, but the more she stared, the more it felt right and the more she realized that the man named Lindsey in all of her dreams had to be the one that she was almost too comfortable with.

"Are things like this with him?" he wondered, whispering in her ear. "Does he cause this frenzy down your spine? Does he give you butterflies every time he looks at you? Does the room feel like it's on fire every time he walks in the room?"

Warm droplets continued to spill out of her eyes, but she was honest and she shook her head. "No..."

"And aren't you curious as to why it's like this with me?" he whispered.

"How do you know all this?" she sobbed.

He finally pulled away from her and he turned her around to face him. He then wiped the tears off her face and he stayed staring at her, caressing her cheek.

She brought her hand to his, ever so enjoying the warmth of his hand.

"I told you I get a certain feeling around some people and I think you're the most stunning thing to walk this earth... You're not shining like you should be and you know it..."

"This all feels so wrong," she explained.

"Yet, it's right... It's something called frozen love."

She furrowed her brow.

"Sometimes we really like things that aren't good for us and you may think that about me, but I really think you ought to check twice. People have multiple loves in their lives, one is usually the destroyer dressed in white, and the knight will always be hidden in the shadows, ready to come out at a time of need. It's a sketchy thing to determine, but I promise, it's true and it's something to consider."

"I'm getting that deja vú feeling again... I've heard somebody say that before," she dropped her head a tad.

He smirked to himself, knowing well she had said it---telling their oldest daughter as a life lesson.

"Are you telling me I should leave my husband for you?" she then looked up.

"That's not what I'm saying at all... I'm saying that you have people who love you and who want the best for you, such as Sharon and Lori... and then there are people who want something from you and they pretend to love you."

"I know... I had that problem when I met my supposed best friends and they were friends with me only to stay close to my husband, they both swoon over him..."

"There you go," he agreed. "What did you do?"

"I disassociated from them..."

"And you felt better?" he wondered.

"Yeah."

"Good. So, today, when you go home with your husband, I want you to be honest with yourself and I want you to ask yourself if you are truly happy with him and or if he actually makes you feel good..."

"I think I already know the answer to that..." she shrugged. "Does it really matter how I feel anymore? My children have suffered enough because of me."

He embraced her fully, hugging her ever so warmly and after a moment, he pulled her in again and he kissed her lovingly.

She was simply breathless and she responded to him easily, mostly because she was trying to understand why she recognized the taste of his lips, the feel of his warmth, the intensity in his words.

Gently releasing her from his capture, he rested his head against hers, "Stevie..." he sighed, then kissing her head.

She pulled away quickly, "What did you call me?" she asked, wiping her tears.

"I'm sorry..."

"No, what is all this? We've just met and you are wining and dining me, making me feel things excessively and for what? You're never gonna be over your wife. Instead, you're standing here, tormenting the both of us..." she backed away and she let off a very heavy, though shaky sigh; one that displayed her frustration. Standing tall, she looked at him, "I would appreciate it if you didn't come to my wedding tomorrow." She began making her way out of the room, grabbing her bag.

"Oh, no, I'm going," he wiped the tears that were forming in his eyes. "You invited me, so I will be going..." he spun around to see her approaching the door.

She spun around to look back at him. "Please?" she begged, "Why are you doing this to me? Who are you to make me feel this way? I don't understand."

"I'm just here to be your friend... I'm not trying to make you feel any particular way. I just want you to be happy and if you think you will be happy with your husband, I will support that."

She was so confused, even more so than when she had first washed up on shore.

She left without saying a word.

When she left the hotel, she made it a point to bypass everybody and as soon as she got to her vehicle, she practically forced the door open, tossing her bag into the passenger seat a little violently. Once she was enclosed, she locked her doors and she rested her hands in the steering wheel, but instead of turning on the ignition, she dropped her head slightly and she began crying, much harder than before, to the point of almost hugging herself.

Crying seemed to be the biggest form of release that day and she didn't even know how to stop herself from doing so.