But it had, and I couldn’t forget—I still can’t. It’s been a year since the day I realized that not all love stories have a happy ending.
My aunt used to tell me that trust was like a plate. Once it was broken, it didn’t matter how much glue you used to put it back together; it would never be the same. So here I am holding onto the broken fragments of our love—our marriage—trying not to cut myself with them.
Some days are better than others. Sometimes I’m full of hate and resentment and can’t look at his face without feeling disgust and betrayal. And sometimes when he touches me like he used to, I can fool myself into thinking I imagined the whole thing. But even after all this time, when William places his hands on my head like he did to her that day, I relive it all over again.
Enough.
I give my head a tiny shake while feeling William unzip my skirt, letting it fall to the floor, and tugging my thong to the side. The room swirls around me. My legs grow weak, and I press my back to the mirror for support. I want to tell him to stop, that I don’t want him touching me, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Tongue-tied, I get lost in the unforgiving, sensual disarming of my body at his hands. My will dissolves. He’s on his knees while I remain standing, but it’s me who crumbles on the inside with each minute that passes.
Love is cruel for it makes one weak.
And William continues to punish me for it over and over again.
Moments pass and everything ceases to exist except for the both of us. William pulls me down onto the soft carpeted floor. His hands on me. His tongue moving inside me along with his punishing fingers. I bite my lip hard to stop a moan from escaping until I can taste blood. But it’s him I feel outside and inside this body of mine—he’s everywhere.
Obliterating light consumes me, and I come undone with his name on my tongue. He kneels over me and fists his cock, pumping it up and down fast and hard until his warm seed spills on my skin and a groan is torn from his chest.
We’re now lying on the carpeted floor, exhausted and bathed in the remnants of our lovemaking.
His fingers stroke my shoulder. “I have something for you.”
“Oh?”
He gets up, goes to his nightstand, and takes something out of its drawer. Package in hand, he comes back. “Here,” he says, handing me a white envelope.
Part of me wishes I could tell William that he doesn’t need to shower me with gifts. I don’t need anything. All I want—all I’ve ever wanted—is his love. I sit up and cross my legs. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s all right.” He buries his hands inside the front pockets of his unzipped trousers that hang loosely around his hips. “Go on, open it.”
I follow his orders and find a key inside. I take it out and inspect it, turning it this way and that. “What’s this?”
“A key,” he adds with dry amusement.
“I can see that, but what’s it for?”
“It’s the key to an apartment in Paris.”
“We’re going to Paris?”
He nods, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. “I have to go for work next week. And I’d like you to come with me.”
“You do?” I hate the fact that my voice is heavy with surprise and wonder, but I can’t remember the last time my husband sought my company during one of his trips.
“Yes, darling. Once my meetings are over, I can take a few weeks off, and we can spend the rest of the time having fun. What do you say, Val? Just you and me. No distractions. Away from everything. Like it used to be.”
“Like it used to be …” I let the words roll around my tongue, rediscovering their taste. “Do you think that’s even possible?”
“I don’t know, but we can try.” He sits down on the floor next to me and pulls me on top of him, his arms going around me. The all-encompassing hug robs me of the air I need to breathe. Burying his nose in my hair, he lets out a suppressed sigh. “I want things to go back to how they were before I …” He clears his throat. “Before I fucked up.”
“Do you really mean that?” I ask, afraid to open the doors of my heart again and let him back in.
“Darling, listen to me. It’s been a couple of shitty years, but I love you. No more pretending that things are fine this time. Let’s actually work through our problems.”
“I want to believe you, but … but I’m afraid, William.”
“I understand. How about this? Let’s start in Paris. And when we come back, hell, I’ll even go to couple’s therapy with you.” His palm cups my flat, empty stomach. “It might also be time to start filling our nursery.”
“Oh, William.” My voice breaks. “You really mean that?”
“Yes, darling.”
I cup his cheeks with shaky hands, the seeds of hope taking root in my soul. “Like it used to be, huh?”
“No.” He smiles his charming and dazzling smile that I fell in love with. “It will be even better.” He lowers his face and kisses me. It’s long and tender. Sweet and slow. It’s a kiss full of forgiveness and the promise of new beginnings.
Lost in his embrace, the ice surrounding my heart thaws completely, and I let him back in.
“MADAME, WE’RE HERE,” the driver says with a heavily French-accented English.
Snapping out of my reverie, I realize that we’re parked outside a very elegant building. There’s a plaque on the black gate surrounding it that says Avenue Foch. I feel butterflies in my stomach. This is where we will begin rebuilding our marriage from the ashes.
While I watch Pierre get out of the car and make his way to my door, my phone begins to vibrate. I take it out of my Birkin and see that it’s a text message from William.
William: Are you at the apartment yet?
Me: Just about. I’m outside the building. It’s beautiful.
William: I’m glad you like it. I miss you.
I smile. Such simple words, but they fill me with happiness. To know that he misses me—that he cares.
Me: I miss you, too. Can’t wait for you to be here.
William: I’ll be there tomorrow.
Me: I’ll be the naked woman on the bed. Waiting for you.
William: God, Val. You’re killing me.
I grin, slightly blushing. Me: Good. Hurry up.
William: I’m not going to let you out of bed for days, you know?
Me: I’m holding you to it.
Pleasure and desire swirl around me like an intoxicating perfume as Pierre opens the door and I get out of the black Mercedes. I pause for a moment to look around. There’s a pretty park across the street and more residential buildings in the surrounding area. Emotions heightened, the beauty and the romance of the Parisian architecture become even more breathtaking.
“Could you please take my suitcases to the apartment?” I say, handing him the key. “I’d like to stay out here a little longer.”