The Affair: Cristiana's Story by Jaimes Aidèe

Author:Jaimes, Aidèe [Jaimes, Aidèe]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2019-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

I left his house with a silly grin on my face and a limp. Even now I can still remember seeing him through the rearview mirror as I drove away that night, waving bye to me when I turned down the street.

Though it wasn’t intended to be more than it was, it felt too intense to leave it behind. But I was leaving for Miami. There was also the matter of another man. I’d already accepted a date and it wouldn’t be fair to Evan if I didn’t give him a shot simply because I’d felt such a connection with someone else.

The following day I called my mother, dying to tell my best friend everything. Well, maybe not the sex parts. But the emotions, my feelings.

“I think I met the man I’m going to marry,” I confessed.

Her brows furrowed, and I remember thinking it odd then, but when she said, “You’re too young to get married, Cris. You need to live, to find yourself first,” I assumed she said it because she was worried I’d move too fast. Now, I wonder if even then she and my dad were having problems.

For days Owen was all I could think about. Talk about. Dream about. My trip to Miami was torture. I’d forgotten his phone number, or it had been lost. Either way I couldn’t find it in my luggage. I damned myself for having waited to call him because of my date with Evan, feeling guilty over being with one guy and talking with another.

It hadn’t mattered, the entire night I’d thought of Owen, and when Evan had leaned in to kiss me, I’d turned my face at the last second, his lips landing on my cheek. He’d been crushed, and I tried to ease his pain by giving him a tight hug and telling him I just had too much going on. Yup, too much as in I didn’t want anyone else’s lips on mine except for Owen’s.

I was afraid I’d lose my chance with him, because I knew he was something special. That I’d screwed up.

Then again, he didn’t call me either. It wasn’t until over a week had passed and I’d pretty much given up on hearing from him, that he called me. It was lunchtime and I was sitting in the middle of a crowded breakroom. Not recognizing the number, I answered, and when I heard his voice I felt my blood rush to limbs as I fled to another room so that I could talk to him without so many witnesses.

He could hear it in my voice, I am sure, the giddiness at finally getting a call from him, and the annoyance that it took him forever to do so. “Why did you wait so long to call me?”

“Why didn’t you call me at all?” he demanded back, but there was definite humor in his tone.

“I lost your number.”

“Wow, that’s a terrible excuse. What was the other option, your dog ate it?”

“It’s the truth. I’m in Miami so I can’t very well look for it at my house.

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