Page 12 of Absolution

She can’t seriously expect me to go without for months. Even as I think it, I already know how it sounds. But this isn’t about her.This is about keeping myself together. I feel like I'm trapped in my own skin and soon, I’ll snap. And if I snap, I’ll leave. And then what? She’s alone with four babies and no money? No way.

Just as I’m closing my tab, she makes her move. I catch the flick of her hair first, its deliberate, practiced. Then she’s up, crossing the bar like she owns it. Hips swaying like a metronome. Lipstick just smudged enough to look accidental. She stops in front of me, leaning in slightly.

“Hi.”

Jesus. Her voice is smoky, like a drag of something bad for you.

I don’t ask her name, don’t offer mine. There’s no future here. No name. No story. I don’t need any of that. She’s not Jackie. And right now, that’s exactly the point.

I love Jackie, I really do. ButIneed this. So, I ask, “Mine or yours?”

She blinks, like she didn’t expect me to skip the small talk, but then she smiles, like it’s a game she already won.

“Yours,” she says.

I smirk. “Better idea.”

Across the street is the Hilton. It’s unfamiliar, discreet. Too risky to take her home, I’d never do that to Jackie.

At the front desk, I flash the firm’s card. Business expense. Nothing more. Room 1406. In the elevator, she’s all over me. Like we didn’t just meet. Like this is something we’ve done before. Like it means something.

It doesn’t.

Inside the room, she starts unzipping her dress before the door even shuts. I walk to the window, pulling out my phone. One text to Jackie:Gonna be an all-nighter. Don’t wait up.

A lie. But it sounds believable enough. I stare at the message for a second. Then hit send.

She won’t ever find out,I tell myself.One night. Then it’s done. I’ll focus. I’ll be better. I’ll be what Jackie and the kids need me to be.

I put my phone on silent, just as arms wrap around me. I turn, my fingers work fast. Belt, shirt, pants off in seconds. She watches like she’s waited her whole life to be wanted like this. She hasn’t. Not by me.

I lift her, feeling her legs wrap tight around my waist, and toss her onto the bed.

We crash sometime around dawn, spent and half-drunk, my body is sore in all the right ways. She wore me out. I must’ve only gotten an hour, maybe less, because when the landline rings next door, it feels like I just shut my eyes.

“Fuck,” I groan, rolling over.

The room’s too bright, curtain cracked just enough to let in a punishing line of sunlight. My head throbs. My mouth’s dry. I reach out automatically, expecting her body next to mine, but all I hit is cold sheets.

She’s gone.

Guess she left quietly. Not a clinger, after all.

I sit up, blinking against the light. Room’s a mess with my clothes on the floor, room service tray half-picked through. Herperfume still lingers faintly, mixed with sweat and the hotel’s overpriced soap.

Dragging myself to the edge of the bed, I rub my face. My back cracks when I stand. I hit the shower on autopilot, the water too cold at first, but I don’t bother fixing it.

I thought I’d feel guilty. Ashamed. Like I should be crawling home. But I don’t. Instead, I feel clear. Resolved.

I feel… done. Like I needed last night to finally understand that I don’t want it anymore. It was good, fun even, but it doesn’t compare to Jackie. With her, I feel love. Real love. Like every second means something. And I let myself forget that. Forgot why I fell for her in the first place.

She deserves better. And whether or not I believe every one of her pregnancy complaints, I need to show up. Step up. Be the partner she expects me to be. The one she deserves.

I’m still pissed she even considered terminating two of the babies, but I know she loves them. Doesn’t know I know she already picked names. I overheard her talking to her mom once. Jemma. Iris. Duke. Finn.

Not weird names, thankfully. She’s got good taste.

Chuckling, I towel off, feeling light. I grab my clothes from the pile near the window, whistling as I fish my phone out of my pants.

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