Cheating Across the Pond

“I should go,” I was wrapped in warm sheets and a warmer body. I untangled myself from Cristiano and looked for my underwear.

“Why?” Cris sat up, only the white sheets covering his bronzed body.

“This was a mistake. I’m engaged.” I clipped on my bra and went on the hunt for my panties, “You know that. Yet, you still-”

His face darkened, his eyebrows drew together, “What we did was consensual. You wanted this as much as I did. We don’t need to play the blame game here because there is no one to blame.”

My stomach churned. He was right. There was no one to blame. We were two stone cold sober people, who like hormonal teenagers couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “I’m sorry,” I said weakly, “I shouldn’t have blamed you. But I also shouldn’t have come here tonight and did what we did. I still have to go.” I pulled on the wrinkled dress and slipped on my high heels.



“Hello? Stephen?” It was early morning and it was my day off. On my days off, I make it a point to not wake up until noon. “It’s so early. What time is it over there?”

“Well it’s around 7:43 AM,” His smooth voice replied calmly.

“7:43? Shouldn’t it be like midnight over there?” It’s too early to do any sort of mental math. It was morning here so it had to be at least night time over there.

“Well in California it would be close to midnight but you asked where I am. And where I am it is 7:43 AM. Actually, 7:44 now.”

I bolted straight up into a sitting position, “Where are you exactly?”

A soft chuckle, “Look out your window.”

I scrambled to my feet and nearly dropped the phone at what I saw.

There he was, surrounded by suitcases.

“What are you doing here?”

“The transfer is official. You’re officially engaged to the head of the Manchester division. Now are you gonna let me up or not?”



All I could think was could he tell? Could he tell in my kiss that there was someone else? Could he tell by the way I rocked my hips that I had been with someone else? Could he tell that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get Cristiano’s face out of my head every time he kissed me or had sex with me?

“So when do I get to meet your uncle?” Stephen murmured into my hair as he planted a kiss on the crown of my head and then draped an arm around my waist.

I tried not to think of when Cristiano did the same after we made love, how he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. “You can come to the game tomorrow. I can see if I get you tickets, if not you can hang out in the VIP lounge. I can introduce you to Uncle Ryan and the team tomorrow. I’m sure they’re excited to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“I talk about you,” I chuckled, “They’re probably more excited for the wedding than I am.”

“I hope not,” Stephen yawned.

“Go to sleep, honey. You must be jetlagged,” I tried not to think of how clunky “honey” felt on my tongue.

Stephen didn’t have to be told twice. He nodded and sleepily whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” The words caught in my throat, which felt as raw as my heart.