Convincing October

Stay

Ian

"Don't go," she whispered, watching with confused eyes as I ran around the hotel room trying to find all of the things I'd packed for our weekend escape, tossing in the bag haphazardly in an attempt to get back as soon as possible. A part of me ached at the sight of the sadness and uncertainty in her eyes, but I didn't have time to stop and tell her what she deserved to know. Why? Because I was a selfish bastard and knew that telling her would mean giving her up. I wasn't ready for that. I felt my phone buzz against my thigh again and picked up the pace, doing my best to brush off the mental image of October's platinum hair scattered across her bare shoulders , kiss plumped lips in a set pout as she held the sheet to her bare chest. We'd been so wound up in one another that I nearly missed it at first -- and then my phone had started dancing against the desk in the hotel room and I knew I couldn't ignore it.

"I'm sorry, Grace." I muttered, yanking the bag over my shoulder, barely tossing a glance in her direction as I searched for my other shoe. I genuinely meant my apology.

"I don't understand, Ian. If its just a coworker just tell them you can't cover on such short notice." I winced along with her words, knowing that particular lie would come back to bite me in the ass sooner rather than later. She still had no idea exactly who I was on campus. I'd divulged most of my personal information and had managed to duck behind compliments and dodge her curiosity.

"It isn't that simple," I began, rooting through my pockets for the one item I had to have but couldn't allow her to see. In my panicked state I couldn't quite grasp it fully as I went to pull it out of my pocket and the offending object fell onto the carpet, right at the bare feet of a now dressed October.

"Ian?" The word was so thin that I barely caught it slipping from her mouth, only the horror written on her face alerted me to what she had seen. Slowly she bent to retrieve it, shaking as it sat in her palm -- taunting us both. I wanted to blurt out that it wasn't what she thought it was but I thought better of it. That could only make the situation worse. Her cerulean eyes closed briefly though they were glistening dangerously, I prayed she didn't cry. I couldn't stand it if she cried. "Lie to me, Ian." The words floored me at first, but I sensed she needed them to protect her. I could practically feel her closing in on herself. "Lie to me and tell me this isn't what I know it is. That you're rushing off to work. That I'm not your whore on the side." When her eyes opened again there was a strength behind them that I'd never seen before but that didn't calm my nerves any, if anything it made me more worried. A calm woman could be a deadly woman.

"I am so-" she stopped me with a subtle shake of her head and a smile that reminded me more of an animal baring it's teeth. Grasping one hand in hers, she opened my clenched fist and placed my gold wedding band in my palm, curling my fingers back around it silently. I wanted to say something to her, anything. I wanted to stop her as she calmly gathered her purse and slipped her phone in, choking up on the words in my throat when she grabbed her shoes without putting them on. I watched without a word as she sauntered to the door, a look I couldn't decipher on her face as she passed me. She didn't look back as she spoke for the last time, but the tremble in her voice had my heart pounding painfully in my ears.

"Don't contact me again, Ian. Go home to your wife."

October

Whether it was pity or desperation that caused the handsome Mr. Sterling Young to do it, I didn't know, but I walked out of Stacy's that day with a new apron, a menu and a schedule. That was three weeks ago. I'd grown in the last few weeks in Pecan Valley, no only as a person, but physically as expected, though no one could see it quite yet, which I was very grateful for. I spent the early hours of the morning opening Stacy's, brewing three types of coffee - regular, decaf and a gorgeous pecan roast that was made here in town, shoving pans of buttermilk biscuits into a piping hot oven and under the watchful eye of Harold, tossing together batches of the chicken fried steak batter. I was quickly falling in love with my job — and trying hard not to fall under the spell of my boss. Sterling, not Mr. Young, was the very man I'd always imagined I would end up with when I decided to settle down. He was kind, honest, had a great reputation among the older ladies that floated in and out of here — I knew from the gossip of town that he had custody over the ever moody Pierce and had been legal guardian since the boy was young.