Silva and the Stars

19 | sacrifice your pride

When everyone files out of the boardroom, Rachel's eyes meet mine.

I can read the message there as easily as if she were uttering the words into my ear, her warm breath spilling down my neck.

I don't push up from my chair, nor Rachel from hers.

The door thuds shut behind the last person and I continue to wait. I want to rest my head in my hands and breathe out heavily. Instead, I sit straight in my chair, determined not to show any weakness. But my muscles tense in anticipation until I can't stand the silence any longer. 

I break first. "Are you happy? The company is safe."

She's impervious and matter-of-fact. "I'll be happy once we're divorced."

It's a low blow and my gut clenches.

"Don't look so surprised. I can't trust you anymore." She frowns. "It's going to be a miracle if we can even do business together." She folds her arms across her chest.

I look away, distracted by her form, unbidden memories clouding my thoughts. The way she looked open for the taking, her heated skin flush against mine, the little moans that escaped her lips with each driving thrust I made.

I clench my jaw, rubbing my hand along the shadow of growth there since the last time I shaved. 

I hate that I'm consumed by thoughts of her and yet she is completely unaffected. 

Did our relationship even exist?

Or does it only take one mistake to wipe it from existence? 

A shard of ice slices through my sternum. How wrong was I to think that what we shared was indelible, written in the stars?

I can't sit still any longer. There's tension in my frame that needs to be released. I shove up from my chair. 

Rachel raises her eyebrows at my sudden movement and casually stands as well.

"Cut me some slack," I growl. "I listened to those voicemails less than 24 hours before you heard them. I needed some time to process it before I could even consider telling anyone."

"I understand it takes time..." She shakes her head. There's a distant look in Rachel's eye as if she'd rather be anywhere but here with me. 

It's similar to when we were first married. Except a million times worse knowing what we can have and did have.

"But I can't be with someone who doesn't let me in." She's looking at me, but her gaze lacks the easy affection that we built in the last few weeks. "You'd rather hide what you're feeling than sacrifice your pride. In that way, you're just like your father."

It feels like she's gutted me. I look down, expecting to see my innards spilling out onto the floor. My hurt twists into defensive anger and indignation. They blaze through me and I scoff. "I hide what I'm feeling?" I glance around the room. "Is there a mirror in here?"

Rachel goes stiff. "I don't like what you're implying."

"You wouldn't, would you?" I walk around the boardroom table, moving closer to her. "But until last night, it was difficult to tell if you even liked me. You're the most frustrating woman I've ever met. Ever had the pleasure of coming inside."

She glares at me. "Don't be crass, Jon."

"I bet this situation is so much worse than the bad sex you were worried about." 

I advance and Rachel doesn't move an inch away. We're less than a metre apart now. 

I stare into her hazel eyes, momentarily lost in the starburst of emerald and gold. "Isn't it funny how our worries seem so trivial compared to the blows reality lands? You can never anticipate what hurts the most."