Page 106 of Checkmate
He sighed as he poured himself a Scotch. Why had he asked Sophie to come over? He knew what kind of message he’d sent her, and now he feared he was stuck with her. But then, better Sophie than being alone, he supposed.
Especially on Christmas Day.
She was going to be his one ally during what he imagined was going to be a rough few months. He should probably be nicer to her.
But she’d fucked his marriage, so fuck her.
Had she just deleted the messages like he’d asked her to, they wouldn’t be in this mess right now. He never should have trusted her to do it herself. He should have insisted on having access to her phone every evening before the end of the working day.
“Aren’t you coming back to bed?”
Closing his eyes, he counted to ten before he turned to Sophie. She leaned against the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt. He should be on his knees, begging this beautiful woman to stay with him. Especially as she had already broken up with him once.
Instead, he wanted nothing more than for her to leave.
“Why are you still here, Sophie?” He asked, grabbing a cigarette. He offered her one out of courtesy, lighting them both. Staring at the embers, he sighed. He and Erica had quit in the first year of their marriage. And now here he was, smoking once again.
“What do you mean? You invited me over here.”
“Yes, but why are you still here?” He took a long drag, blowing the smoke in her direction. “I’m being a prick to you. Deliberately. My dick doesn’t work, and we’re clearly not having sex. So why are you here?”
“Oh,” she took a step towards him, tucking her hair behind her ear and stubbing out her untouched cigarette. “Well, I enjoy your company outside of sex, so I don’t care that we’re not fucking. I know you don’t like that, but it’s true.”
He rolled his eyes as she approached him. She moved her hands over his chest and linked them around his shoulders. “And I know today has been rough, and you’re not in the best of moods. But what kind of woman would I be if I abandoned you in your time of need?”
His eyes flickered to hers as she looked up at him, no trace of anything other than complete sincerity in her gaze. She meant every word she said, and God help him, her words resonated with him.
After eight years of perfect marriage, Erica had served him divorce papers. After his first mistake. No loyalty, no second chances. And yet, here was this beautiful, sweet woman. She wanted to fight with and for him. She just didn’t want to give up on him.
Had he misjudged her that much?
He pulled away from her, discarding the cigarette that had burned down to his fingers. “Do you want a drink?” He asked, his tone softer now, less confrontational.
He’d already drunk too much, which is why he called her, and then invited her over. It was probably why he was being nice to her now.
He couldn’t stand her still, and yet he didn’t want to admit how much the thought of being alone sent a shiver down his spine.
“Scotch would be great.” She moved to sit on the sofa, stretching her long legs out over the cushions. “Why don’t you come and sit in front of me, and I can give you a massage? See if we can’t relieve your stress another way, hm?”
Now, when was the last time Erica had offered him a massage? Throughout the entirety of their relationship, he couldn’t recall one time. Maybe that’s why Sophie became a temptation. Because deep down, he knew Erica wasn’t doing enough.
“That sounds great, babe,” he said, bringing her glass over. He grabbed a couple of cushions from the sofa and set himself up in front of her. “And a massage sounds incredible, thank you.”
She kissed his back between his shoulder blades. Then she worked her fingers into the tense knots on his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander, indulging in the moment. He imagined this was a normal evening, and not the night his world imploded. He and Sophie were together, and life was good.
They spent their evenings just like this. A few drinks while they lounged together half-naked. She’d rub his shoulders, soothe all his aches. And then they’d retire to the bed where they’d fuck until they were a sweaty hot mess. Hell, sometimes, they wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom!
He could imagine that working out, imagine a life with Sophie. He could influence her easily, and she understood his lifestyle. If he threw money at her, she’d stay quiet, happy to be the beautiful woman on his arm.
He wouldn’t have to indulge her hobbies or make nice with her family. She’d do as he asked and she’d do it with a smile.
Was it what he planned for his life? No. Erica was his happily ever after, or so he thought. But Erica was busy with a lesser man. Sophie was here, comforting him after he’d been such an asshole to her.
Who the fuck cared about Erica at this point?
You do, a nasty voice reminded him.
Well, that may be true, but what good was it doing him? He could wallow in self-pity, he could be angry at Erica for defiling their marriage.
