Your Mark on Me

A Tiny Ring (part II)

We kiss again. Words are not enough to describe the electrifying feeling we share, the craving that we have for each other. Right now, I don't give a damn about Roy, or Jen, or his kid, or anything else. It's just the two of us, and the insane chemistry we've always had, perhaps even more after all these years of waiting. He brushes with a quick, ample movement the files off the desk. They fall and scatter on the floor.

I'm on the desk now, his hands all over me, mine unbuttoning his shirt. We're still kissing. My head is spinning, everything in me aching for more.

I can't get enough of him. I need to grab, touch and kiss everything. I can't wait any longer. Ten years have been more than enough.

He's kissing my neck and my collarbone, and stops for a moment to inhale deeply my scent. I shiver. It's the most alive I've felt since he was gone.

There's a noise of a car engine pulling up outside the house, but we don't stop. The world can burn for all I care, right now all I know is that I need him.

High pitched voices, and laughter. A front door slamming.

Mark breaks away. I pull up the sleeves of my dress and he's buttoning up his shirt with quick movements, then bends down and hastily starts piling up the scattered files on the floor.

I hear steps on the staircase. Tiny, bouncy footsteps, and a humming which becomes louder as the steps advance. I smoothen out my hair, then help him pick up the last of the papers off the floor.

We're just finished when the door almost tears off the hinges and an explosion of color and youth bursts in.

"Daddy!" She runs straight into his arms. Mark lifts her up and smiles. "You're early, aren't you?"

"I didn't want to swim today. My tummy was hurting. Who's this?"

She's looking straight up at me, boldly. A four or five year old girl with blonde curls and green eyes, cute as a button in her print dress, brown tights and brown little boots. I hold her gaze, just as curious about this little creature as she is about me.

"This is Scarlett, an old friend", he answers. "My youngest, Emily."

Jen pokes her head in through the door left open. "Darling?" Her gaze stops on me. "Sorry, I didn't realise you had guests. Come Emily, you can talk to daddy later." She smiles at me. "I apologise, she's a bit too friendly."

"It's ok. I was just leaving, anyway."

I realise she doesn't recognise me. I wouldn't, either. I'm nothing like that plain, invisible teenager anymore. I observe with satisfaction that she looks old and she's gained weight.

"But I want to show him", the little girl whines. "Daddy, I played the piano with two hands today." She's tugging at his sleeve and pulling him. "Come, I want to show you."

Mark smiles, a different kind of love filling his eyes. It resembles the way dad used to smile over twenty years ago, when I showed him the new pages that I had learnt.

"Daddy can't come right now, sweetheart. But I promise I'll be with you the moment I'm done here. Okay, little one? Now be a good girl and go with mummy."

His hand ruffles her hair, and I must be crazy for feeling it, but I do. Jealousy. Bitter and stinging.

They finally leave. Now it's just me and him again.

"She's the one thing I don't regret", he says after a while. "Her older sister, too, of course. But there would have been no Emily if... me and you stayed together."