Page 77

I closed my eyes, lost in her touch for a second. It had been so long since I had been touched like that. That I had been wanted. I had been drowning in my loneliness since Monica had come and uprooted my life before leaving it.
Monica.
My eyes shot open.
“Well, I don’t want that,” I said, taking a step back and grabbing her wrists, pulling her hands away from me.
“God, you used to befun.” Veronica rolled her eyes.
“I’m going to get you some clothes, and then you’re gone. Understood?”
“So bossy,” she said, taking a step toward me. “It’s sexy.”
God, she was relentless.
I turned my back to her and walked down the hallway, listening to make sure she wasn’t following me. Thankfully, there was only silence. I walked into my bedroom and into my master closet. I was rummaging through some old shirts and sweatpants when I remembered I still had a box of her clothes somewhere. I didn’t know why I hadn’t gotten rid of it over the years. I must have forgotten.
I reached up to the top shelf of the closet and pulled the cardboard box down, wiping the dust away. I pried open the flaps and started going through it. I found a sweater and a pair of jeans, amongst some memories I had hidden away, like a Polaroid from our wedding in the little chapel in Vegas. I didn’t feel anything as I picked the picture up. That was enough for me to know that a divorce had been the right decision. I made a mental note to have the box sent to her apartment.
As I walked back to the living room with her clothes, I could have sworn I had heard the elevator doors ding. And that was when I saw Monica standing there. And now she was gone. I wondered if she had even been here at all. It seemed like such a quick flash of a dream. But it was real, and it was more of a nightmare.
As I rode up the elevators now to confront Veronica, I wondered why Monica had been here in the first place. Maybe she missed me as much as I missed her. Any hope I had in that had been torn apart because of my persistent ex-wife.
The elevator doors opened and I stormed in to find Veronica sitting perched on the couch, still in lingerie.
“You’re back,” she said with a smile.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked, my voice raised.
She lay back on the couch and arched her back, the lace of her bra barely containing the pink surrounding her nipples.
“Trying to show you how much I need you, Troy,” she murmured.
She grazed her hands over her breasts, slowly working them down her toned torso to where the creamy lace grazed just under her navel.
“Stop,” I said sternly.
“Stop what?” she asked innocently, keeping her eyes on me as her hand trailed lower. Her fingers met the lace of her panties and began swirling slowly. She let out a quiet moan.
“Veronica. Stop.”
“Touch me, Troy,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Fucking stop!” I yelled.
She sat up suddenly and looked at me, her eyes boring into me. “What the hell is your problem?”
“I’ve told you over and over again. I do not want you. Why can’t you get that through your head?”
“It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice narrowed.
The seduction was gone from her eyes, replaced with a vile hatred.
“This has nothing to do with her,” I said.
“You’re lying,” she snapped.
I sighed and looked down at the floor in frustration.