The family lawyer is talking too much. I swear I want to punch him. Everyone talks too much these days when all I want is peace and quiet. Some time alone with my girls. I can listen to them blabber all day.I push the divorce letters across to him, he shakes his head. “Expired. They don’t count anymore.” Oh. I roll the letters and shove them into my pocket. El doesn’t have to know. Lamar drops his briefcase on the table and pulls out a file. I wave off the waitress who approaches us and my hands close around the mug of coffee I ordered earlier. Steam escapes the mug, I inhale and take a greedy sip of the coffee.“What now?” I ask him. Lamar pushes his sunglasses into his hair and tucks his pen in the middle of his notepad. “A redraft if you still want to go ahead.” He folds his hands on the table, his eyes scroll over my body. “The court can be avoided.” Writing on his pad for a minu

Birthdays are awkward but Brianna’s is worse. We are here by the pool. One, I have never used the pool. Two, no one is talking. Music booms from the box speakers on the short tiled stairs leading to our table, the only source of noise in this odd silence.Joshua, the talkative is quiet. Bren might as well be absent. She hasn’t breathed a word to anyone. Wyn talks but just enough to not get Bren mad. I adjust the cone cap on my head, everyone on the table is wearing one but Brianna’s has birthday girl written on it. That and her sash. This feels like a terrible idea. The flame of her birthday candle flickers, Mother cups her hand around it to protect it from dying. She slides the cake to Brianna and inserts a table knife. Brianna knows her as her grandmother. That’s right. As in Joshua’s case as the uncle. I’m the only one being wrongly addressed. I’ll probably keep it that way. Joshua knocks the table twice,

I am scared. No, I’m worried. I think it’s a mix of both. I twist the knob and the door creaks. She’s home.Nervousness tightens my muscles, my steps falter as I push the door to the mansion open. The last time I was here was to cause trouble. Now, I don’t know if peace can reign. If she will allow me into her life.The house is quiet. If her car wasn’t outside, I would assume nobody was home. I take the stairs two at a time. The anxiety returns when I’m in front of our bedroom. We made so many good memories in this room. Sweat rolls down my temple and a lump forms in my chest. What if she doesn’t want to see me? Has she changed her mind about the divorce? We haven’t seen a mediator so technically and legally, we are still a couple. El is my wife and I want her to love me the right way. I want to be the only man for her.On entering, I spot El curled on the couch with a quilt pulled to her

Locking the door behind me, I set El gingerly on the bed. I push her shoulders down when she attempts to get up. Her lips part and my head shakes. If talking will ruin the moment, then I will take her silence.  “Shh,” I whisper.  I capture her lips in a kiss. My tongue parts her lips to explore hers and a throaty moan escapes her. El kisses me back with an urgency I’ve missed, a thrill goes through me and my fingers weave into her hair.  Her hands spread on my chest to feel me up and our lips remain locked in a passionate kiss. She tastes like oranges. I nibble her lower lip, feeding my senses with the taste of my woman.  She whimpers. I swallow her cries, moans and whispers, causing her to writhe under me. I groan as she caresses my bulge, briefly blinded by the heavy waves of desire that crash over me. I have missed her—us. I have missed this. Our breaths mingle when we come up for air, foreheads meet as we smile at each

Brianna gets off in fifty minutes. Until then, I have no idea what to do with myself. I should return home to my wife but there’s no guarantee I’ll be willing to leave when it’s time to pick Brianna for the meetup.  Thinking of the devil, my phone vibrates on my desk. Vincent’s name appears on my screen and a text pops in. He wants to be sure we are still up for today. I mean, I don’t want it but it has to happen.  Not for his sake but Brianna’s. She’s aware El isn’t her mother, I think she is because I mentioned it a few times. Elbows propped on the desk, I clasp my hands behind my neck. My eyes water from staring hard at my screen, the words blur and I hit send on the short text before I change my mind. My stomach growls. I haven’t had anything to eat all day. For someone who complained about his wife’s feeding, I am doing a terrible job of taking care of myself. A peek at my wristwatch and my intestines knot. It’s past twelve. I am starving. I ma