“Dalia,” he says, softly caressing my face in his hand. “Tell me you still feel it. Tell me you still want me as badly as I want you. I know I’m not crazy, I know there’s something here.”
Silence.
“You’re refusing to talk to me, but you know what. . .” Pausing, he reaches out and runs the tips of his fingers around the edge of my ear, and back under my jawline. “I don’t need to hear you say it to know it. I can see it, I can feel it. I can smell it.” His eyes drop to the V between my legs and he smiles. “And it smells so fucking sweet.”
His hand cups my cheek, and I lean into it. I don’t even mean to do it. My body reacts to him, to his touch, to the way he feels on me, around me, in me. I’m wet instantly, my pussy biting at air, hungry for his cock.
Crushing his mouth against mine, he kisses me again. And this time, I kiss him back. My lips part, my tongue reaches for a taste of his. And for a moment, I let go.
I let go of everything, giving myself to him the way he wants me to. He has me, and I have him.
No! It won’t work!
Breaking the kiss, I take a long step back. “We can’t do this.” Floating my eyes up to his, I hold his gaze. “You might not see your sister for who she really is, but I do.” Pointing at myself, my eyes expand. “And I know if she ever finds out about us, she’ll fire me in a second.”
“Dalia, stop, San—”
Holding up my hand, I shake my head. “We’re done, Lyle, whatever this was is over. I’m not going to throw away everything I’ve worked for. Sandy doesn’t play fair, and I’m done risking my job for someone who can’t even stand up for what’s right. It’s easy to see who’s really in charge.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Running a finger under my eyes, I wipe away black smears of mascara. “I don’t know, Lyle, you tell me.” Slapping the folder against his chest, the doors open to the lobby, and I walk out of the elevator alone.
Lyle stays inside, he doesn’t move, holding the folder to his chest as he watches me walk out the glass front doors.
Maybe if he sees her stains on my work himself, he’ll start to see how she works. Stay on her good side, and you’re her golden goose. Make one mistake, and she’s dumping you in the trash.
Hitting the street, I start to feel dizzy. The world is going in and out of a purple haze, and my head is spinning. Resting my palm against the side of the building, I hold myself up.
My stomach is churning and I’m sweating like I just ran a marathon. Keeling over, I grip my knees, and throw up on the sidewalk.
What the hell is going on? Where is this coming from?
A woman stops, asking me if I’m all right. I nod and thank her but tell her I’ll be fine.
“Are you sure?” she asks, glancing at her watch. “I’m about to grab a taxi, we can share it if you need to get home. I’m heading toward Staten Island.”
“No, I’m okay. It just kind of came out of nowhere on me. I felt fine last night.”
She smiles, sticking her arm out to flag a cab. “I remember those days. I got sick like you when I was pregnant with my son. Not my daughter though, with her I just got heartburn.”
“Oh, no, I’m not pregnant.” Laughing it off, I give her an awkward smile. “It would be a miracle if I was. I’m covered, no chances here.”
“Nothing is one hundred percent, sweetie.” She holds the cab door, giving me one last chance to share it.
“No, thank you.” I watch her cab pull away, and I stand still, just thinking about what she said.
I don’t want to admit she’s right, but she is. Nothing is one hundred percent safe. And the thought scares the fuck out of me. I take the pill, so the chances of me being pregnant are slim to none. But what if?
I can’t be pregnant, the pill should protect me. . . I’m safe. Right?
Standing up straight, I rub my belly, trying to soothe the tsunami inside. I’m not pregnant. There’s no way.
I have felt weird recently.
The hot flashes. The strange cravings. The emotional rollercoaster rides I’ve been on.
Oh shit. Could I be?
My breathing picks up as the realization starts to swell inside. Looking right to left, I remember there’s a pharmacy two blocks away. I don’t wait, I head right there.
Standing inside, I’m in the family planning aisle, blankly staring at all the options. Pink boxes, boxes covered in flowers, digital results, lines. There are a million ways to see if you’ve been knocked up.