~November 2011~

Waiting was the hardest part.

Zoe could hear Keaton rambling just outside of the bathroom door. She could imagine him, sweatpants hanging off the boniest bit of his want to be hips. The bandage covering his newly acquired ink and the way his gaze casually drifted over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of her once she left the small bathroom. He was like a little kid; excited, needy, and dependent upon her for his most basic needs. He also went stir crazy when required to be sentenced to their home for more than two hours at a time. He had already eaten the cranberries for the sauce, demolished a pan of unsweetened cornbread, and he destroyed the remaining bottle of Chardonnay they had in the loft. His parents were coming for a Thanksgiving Eve meal and she was nervous but she had bigger things to consider at the moment.

She stared at the screen of the phone. She checked her signal strength. She dialed her voicemail to ensure her service was still connected. When she heard her voice and Keaton's laughter in the background of her recorded message, she disconnected the call and continued to wait. When the device finally buzzed in the palm of her hand, she was afraid to answer. Seconds passed by before her finger connected with the icon and she said, "Hello." There was no reason for her to speak; she listened, nodding her head, as if the caller could see her face. She shut her eyes as the voice on the other line confirmed the inevitable. There was no use for expletives or tears. The damage was done and she had a decision to make.

Zoe slipped from her hiding place a few minutes later, tucking the cell in the back pocket of her shorts before she headed to the kitchen. She cataloged the contents of the fridge and cabinets, prepping for a run to the store, when familiar lips caressed the nape of her neck and whispered, "Marry me." She let her body relax against his, "Today," She giggled when his mouth landed on the patch skin capable of causing one of two reactions in her, both leading to extended periods of nudity, "Right now." She didn't respond. She continued to write down important and necessary ingredients while he became reacquainted with her body. How did one person drive her so crazy? His fingers slipped to the waist of her shorts. He quickly divested her of the piece of clothing. She heard the intake of breath when his eyes landed on the cheeks prominently displayed in the lacey shorts. His hands covered her bare flesh and it was a struggle to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, "Don't ignore me Zoe."

Keaton was spoiled rotten. He always had been. Maybe it was his upbringing as an only child in his parents' Manhattan abode. Or it could have been related to her inability to tell him no. His touch grew more insistent and Zoe was fully aware of what came next.

His digits trailed along her delicate center. The pen began to shake between her fingers and her writing was no longer legible, "Keaton...shit..." It was all she could say when he slipped between her lower lips and began to tease her tender flesh with his thumb. One hand gripped the counter and the other held firmly to the pen.

"Do you want me to stop?" She pressed against his hand, taking him deeper, and answering his question the only way she knew how. Her hips rolled and her walls tightened around his explorative digits. A sound somewhere between a moan and a shout exited the back of her throat. Coherent vocalization was no longer an option, "Good because I hadn't planned on stopping." In one swoop he had her spread across the island in the center of their kitchen. His mouth joined his fingers and reason dissipated. Zoe was only concerned with achieving maximum pleasure. Between strokes of his tongue he shared his endearments of love. He made genuine promises she knew he intended to keep.

Forever...mine...were the words he spoke that tickled the shell of her ear.

Her body tensed and she wiggled her way from his grasp, "The market...I've got to go to the market."

Zoe left Keaton alone and confused while she disappeared behind the bathroom door to gain a moment of clarity in the midst of her lust crazed haze.

~January 2012~

 Nothing had changed.

Zoe's desire for Keaton remained. The flutter of butterflies in the pit of her stomach continued with just one glance in her direction. One minute in his presence and she already doubted the decision to leave him in the first place. It was his eyes, the tenderness in his touch, and the heartbreak etched in every line of his face. She had hurt him and that fact was hard for her to overcome.

Her limbs began to tremble when the organist motioned for her to move to the front of the chapel. She ignored the disapproving eyes. She didn't miss the whispers. She picked out snippets of conversation and the misplaced hatred directed at her. She pressed a kiss against the head of the shell that once held the soul of her deceased friend. Her lids lowered when her hand circled the mike. She hummed her way through the first stanza despite the clatter of keys and bang of one in particular. When the tears swelled to her eyes and she heard the opening keys of the song once again, she took a deep breath and began her torch song. Her voice cracked on the first note but she continued to plead for a precious Lord to take her hand and lead her on. She refused to sneak a peek of the crowd because she could feel Keaton's eyes burning through the layers of her skin.

Zoe stepped from the stage, stole a handful of tissues from the randomly placed box of Kleenex, and rushed for the doors.

She had never been fond of saying goodbye.