Page 21 of It’s Me, but Different

It's a dangerous game. Too dangerous. We both know it. Every touch, every breath, every second we remain in this position brings us closer to a point of no return.

“Do you think the cable car will be ready?” I ask in a desperate attempt to break the spell.

“Mmm,” she murmurs against my neck and the sound vibrates like a caress.

She stretches again, pretending to want to reach her coffee cup that must be more than cold by now. She arches against my body, slow and sensual, and I have to gather all my willpower to stop her.

“Sloane…”

“What?”

“You know perfectly well what,” I respond, turning to look into her eyes.

Mistake.

Terrible mistake.

Because now we're face-to-face, separated by barely a few inches, and I know that desire in her gaze too well.

“Esme…” she whispers, slightly shifting her eyes toward my nipples.

“No. We can't.”

“Why not?” she asks, moving an inch closer and placing her hands on my waist.

“Because… because it's very complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” she responds. “But that doesn't mean it's not worth it.”

For a moment I allow myself to enjoy the contact. She draws me toward her with a tenderness that breaks my heart, and when I close my eyes, I imagine we're those twenty-year-old girls who swore eternal love.

But we're not.

“I have children, Sloane,” I whisper, opening my eyes suddenly. “They are my priority. I can't… I can't risk their stability for this.”

“For this?” she repeats with pain.

“I don't know,” I admit, letting out a long sigh. “I don't know what we are. I don't know what we could become either. And precisely because of that, I can't take the risk.”

“Okay, I understand,” she says, moving away from me slowly, though I can see she's hurt.

The sun has come up completely. It bathes the Silver Peaks mountains with a light that makes everything seem less real, as if we were characters in a dream that's about to end.

And maybe we are.

Because when the phone rings, when they announce the cable car is working again, when we return to the hotel, this will become another “what would have happened if…?” to add to our list.

Locked in the bathroom so she can't see me cry, I break inside.

It's too painful to realize that my feelings for Sloane haven't disappeared. It's as if they had just been sleeping, waiting in case she appeared in my life again someday.

That day has arrived, and now I don't know what to do.

My love for Luis was very different from what I felt for Sloane. Not better or worse, simply different. With him it was about building something solid, a predictable and stable life where we could raise our children. It was a mature, calm love, based on respect and the goals we shared.

With Sloane it was always fire. Passion, intensity, that feeling that together we could conquer the world or make it burn completely. It was an almost adolescent love in the best sense.

But now I'm a very different woman. I can't afford the luxury of choosing love. Not when I have two small children who depend on me for everything.