Just a Number (Thirst Trap #2)

23. Mel

Chapter twenty-three

Mel

I grimace as the front door slams. I’ve been working downstairs this afternoon, waiting for Zack to come home. He’s been avoiding me and it can’t go on. As awkward as this whole situation is, we need to find a way to clear the air and move on.

He strolls in, frowning when he sees me.

“Hey,” I start. He gives me a nod, walking to the fridge and pulling out the bottle of milk from the door. Like he’s goading me, he takes off the lid and chugs it straight from the bottle. I press my lips together, holding in the admonishment that desperately wants to slip out. That won’t help right now. I need to pick my battles. “How was college?” I ask calmly.

“Fine. I need to go and get some coursework done,” he replies as he puts the milk back.

“Zack, wait.” I hold my breath, praying he will listen. “We need to talk. Please.”

“What do you want to talk about?” It feels like a win when he at least turns to face me. I’ve been going over what to say in my head for hours, but all of my rehearsed discussions escape me as I stare at my son, the sullen look on his face reminding me of his younger years.

“Will you come and sit down?” I gesture to the stool beside me and let out a gentle sigh of relief when he heads my way. “Thank you.” Once he’s sitting, I turn to face him head-on. He’s not making eye contact, and it somehow makes it easier to ask, “Why did you hit Alex?”

“He shouldn’t have slept with you. I thought he was my friend.” His voice is quiet, but it’s tinged with anger.

“I know you’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes. “… But I’m disappointed that you resorted to violence. You didn’t have to hit him.”

“And you didn’t need to sleep with him , Mum.” His gaze comes up to meet mine and there's frustration swirling there. “Why did you do it?”

I’m weirdly proud that he’s calling me out on it and not choosing to continue avoiding the awkwardness. It doesn’t make it any easier to answer his question though.

“I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t purposely pick one of your friends to do this with. And I’m sorry that it hurt you. But I can’t take it back.”

“Is it serious?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“No, it’s just a fling.” The words fly out fast, but a twinge of doubt instantly follows. Is it?

“You couldn’t find a random stranger to have a fling with? Why did it have to be someone I know?”

“I don’t know how much to tell you.” I grimace, trying to find the words. “I can’t be with a stranger. That’s not who I am. But I am sorry it was someone that means something to you.”

“He means nothing to me.” He spits the words out with a ferocity that has me leaning back. “This has shown that he’s not my friend. A real friend wouldn’t do that.”

“So, how do we move on from here? I don’t want you to keep avoiding me. I’m still your mum.” I give him a tentative smile, trying to stem the tears that want to flow when it’s not reciprocated.

“Are you going to keep seeing him?”

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer. I have no fucking clue what the right thing to do is. I stop myself from offering to call it off. I’m not convinced that’s for the best.

“I spoke to Dad earlier.” The change in subject startles me, but his next words help it make sense, and break my heart at the same time. “I’m going to go and stay with him for a while. I need some space.”

“Oh.” Nothing can stop my tears from welling now.

“I don’t want to upset you, but I think it’s for the best. I don’t want to be around the two of you if you’re together.” I give a shaky nod, completely lost for words. “It’s probably not forever, and you’ve been telling me for ages that I should spend some quality time with Dad, right?”

There’s a comfort that comes with him trying to justify it—that he’s not storming out, shouting that he hates me—but the pain is bigger, filling more of the space inside me.

“When are you going?” I ask, swallowing hard to keep the sobs at bay.

“Tomorrow. I’ve got a half day. Dad’s going to pick me up.”

There’s a big meeting at work today which requires my physical presence. I get up and dress in my favourite dove-grey trouser suit and a baby pink silk blouse. I gather my laptop and briefcase from the office on my way downstairs and head to the kitchen to make coffee.

Zack retreated to his room last night after his bombshell. I didn’t even see him for dinner. In the end, I’d retreated to my bedroom too, choosing to read an old favourite book to try to take my mind off everything. But as soon as I’d put the book down to sleep, the tears came.

It’s been a while since I cried myself to sleep. Not since the rocky days of my divorce have I sobbed into my pillow. I don’t feel any better for it, but I am grateful for the wonders of a good skincare routine and some make-up to mask my restless night.

As I prepare my breakfast, my gaze is drawn out of the window to the space above the garage. Alex’s space. Should I tell him about Zack leaving? I could really use some comfort, but I’m not sure that’s what we’ve got right now. As I said to Zack, it’s just a fling, isn’t it?

I’ll tell him, but there’s no point waking him early when he probably had a late night working at the bar. I don’t want him to feel bad about it. It’s me that put myself in this situation and now I just need to figure out what I’m going to do next.

There’s a stillness when I let myself in later. It’s often the case that I’m home alone, but this is different.

My nest is empty.

I drop my bag at the bottom of the stairs, sitting to remove my heels. I stay there, listening to the silence.

What the fuck am I doing?

I’ve driven my son away.

The sobs start slow and build until it’s hard to breathe.

Was it really worth it just for a fling?

But then the guilt washes over me. I can’t reduce this thing with Alex to just a few orgasms. He’s been like a breath of fresh air. I was lost before he came along, bumbling my way through life after my divorce. Yes, it’s been about sex and passion. But I’m a changed woman from knowing him. He’s shown me that I don’t need to just carry on living to please everyone else. That I can find my own joy. And I think that’s why, when Zack asked, I couldn’t say I was going to end it.

I’ve spent my whole damn life doing what was expected of me: getting married, having a child, building a career, and doing it all with a polite smile plastered on my face. Well, fuck that. I can’t keep trying to live up to some arbitrary societal expectations, not if it makes me unhappy.

Maybe this thing with Alex is just a fling. Perhaps it won’t go anywhere, but I can still treat it like a big reset button on my life. I can move forward from here looking for the things that bring me joy. And I know some of those things will be the very opposite of what the world expects from a forty-year-old divorcee.

I can only hope that Zack will come around and won’t hate me for my choices.

My sobs gradually slow and I swipe the back of my hand across my cheeks. I need a tissue. As I rise to find one, the doorbell rings. I can’t answer it looking like this. I’m a disaster. I tiptoe over to peep through the spyhole.

“Mel?” comes Alex’s shout. “I know you’re there. I saw you pull up.” I draw in a still shaky breath and close my eyes for a second. I can’t ignore him. I grab the door handle and open it slightly, peering through the small crack. The daylight is bright against my swollen eyes and I wince. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft and the concern clouding his eyes brings a fresh wave of tears. Have I not already cried enough?

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. What’s happened?” His hand comes up to the door, and he gives it a gentle push. “Can I come in?” He hesitates before crossing the threshold. “What do you need?” His question is gentle.

“Zack’s gone,” I blurt out.

“Gone where?” His brows raise with concern.

“He’s gone to stay with his father.” I hiccup with this latest round of tears. “He said he couldn’t be here anymore.”

“Oh, Mel,” is all he says as he draws me into his hug. He holds me tight, rubbing my back in rhythmic circles and making soothing noises. I lay my cheek on his shoulder and give in to the sorrow. It still really fucking hurts, but there’s a comfort from crying in someone’s arms and not sitting by yourself on the bottom stair.

I draw in several big breaths, trying to find some equilibrium. I pull away and stand within the circle of Alex’s arms, raising my eyes to meet his.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“Hey.” A gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I made a mess of you. You’re all wet now.” My own smile is watery and thin.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind. Why don’t we wash your face?”

“That sounds like a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to go out in public anytime soon though. I must look like a disaster.”

“You’re beautiful. Stop fishing for compliments.” He lays a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He leads me upstairs and into my ensuite, nudging me to sit on the closed toilet seat. He wets a flannel, wringing it out before stepping in front of me. “Tell me if I rub too hard, okay?”

He doesn’t. His touch is gentle and I sit quietly, gazing at the concentration on his face as he cleans mine.

“Do you have some cream we can put on?”

“Over there in the top drawer.” He opens the drawer and appears baffled by the spread of skincare items laid out. “The purple one, please.” He passes the moisturiser over and I unscrew the lid before dabbing some on my cheeks and forehead, massaging it into my skin.

“I’m not working tonight,” he tells me as he crouches at my feet, brushing some loose hair from my face. “How about we find one of those crime shows you like and order in some dinner?”

“I don’t think I’ll be much company tonight, Alex. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, you don’t need to entertain me. I just want to stay with you, so you’re not alone when you’re sad. Is that okay?”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood for sex,” I warn.

He quirks his head to the side and bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not why I’m here. Let me take care of you, Mel.”

“Okay,” I agree with a nod as warmth spreads through my chest. I like having someone to take care of me.

“If you’re not in the mood for crime, you can help me pick a new book to read if you like?” he suggests, standing and tugging me up. With all the drama of Zack discovering us, I’d forgotten he’s been sneaking my books out.

“You’ll have to show me which ones you’ve read so far, and then I’ll recommend some.”

“Do you know, I hadn’t read books for years, but I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole with all that smut on your shelves?” The grimace he pulls makes me chuckle.

“Seriously, you’ve not been winding me up? You really have been reading my romance novels?”

“Uh-huh. I read one with a guy with tattoos the other day. He was in the mafia and snuck into her house to escape the police.”

“I love that one. She’s one of my favourite authors.”

“Well, come on, tell me which ones I should read next.”