Want Your Bad Romance

"It's just so hard," had been the basis of my conversation with Kenni. And it was. It was difficult to love a taken man. Not only a taken man, but a taken actor, who happened to live in France. I'd had that burden looming over me constantly for what seemed like so long and then he'd practically thrown her in my face - at least that's what it had felt like.

After talking with my best friend for a while, I'd sat at my desk and typed out a good four thousand words.

A few minutes later, I picked up the phone and dialed his number.

When he answered, I had to choke back a sob.

~

We discussed the boundaries of our relationship and what we felt comfortable with, and soon we were back to the way we had been, if not a little better for our understanding.

Another week passed. Another seven days of multiple phone calls and missing him. Another half week of sweet and considerate conversations and another half week of the phone calls that made us both a bit hot and bothered - and made me a bit angry at him for being on the other side of the globe and imposing such upon me. He found teasing a bit more entertaining than most others do.

One night, I got the called I'd been waiting all week for.

"Hey, baby. I just got to the airport. The plane leaves in about thirty minutes, so I'll see you in… about sixteen hours? I don't know, you're the smart one."

It was a little difficult to get to sleep that night.

~

He called as soon as he passed customs.

"So you've got a car, yeah? Where're you headed first? You're staying at your place, right?"

"I'll be at your place in a little while, okay?"

In half an hour, my doorbell rang.

"Hey, that was fast, I didn't -"

My welcome was cut off by his lips. He backed me inside and tapped the door closed with his foot, never breaking the kiss. There was a hunger I didn't remember. My back met the wall of the hallway and his hands began to fumble at the buttons of my shirt.

I didn't help him, nor did I hinder him. I was puzzled by his actions, but had no other qualms.

His lips slid from mine down my neck, his teeth gazing my skin as he left hot, hurried kisses. He pushed my shirt back to reach my shoulder. His hands were roaming my torso in constant movement. When he pressed his mouth back to mine, his lips were hard.

I took his face in my hands and gently pushed him away - as gently as possible, anyway.

He opened his eyes and I finally got a good look at him. He looked pale and tired, but that could have just been the plane ride. What gave it away was his eyes. I saw pain.

I pulled his face back to mine and touched our foreheads together. "What's wrong?" I whispered.

He sighed and closed his eyes, then dropped his head to my shoulder.

"Vanessa."

That bit of my heart that reacted every time he said her name fell.

"I - " He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "I've confirmed it. I found a receipt for a hotel. When she said she was going out for lunch with a friend, I followed her and she went to the hotel. She asked for a key to room thirty-nine. I asked the concierge who's name the room was in. Jack. Jack Tyler."

I pulled his head from my shoulder and led him to the couch, not bothering to button my shirt. He sat down and stared at the coffee table blankly; I pulled my legs up under me and toyed with his hair. I knew if he wanted to talk, he would.

After a few seconds, he did.

"I expected it, but, you know… I guess it didn't actually strike me as real. To put a name to the - to - to her affair…"

My mind was repeating the same thoughts over and over, but I tried my hardest not to let them show on my face. Even though he wasn't looking at me.

"It's just… it's posed so many questions." After a moment of silence he looked to me. His eyes dropped down to my still-undone shirt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This isn't exactly the happy reunion I'd been hoping for."

"If your definition of happy is what I think it is, mister, we're not getting 'happy' for a while. At least until you have a cool head. Absolutely no revenge sex."

He smiled. "You really have a way with words, you know that?"

"Eh," I answered. "I don't know, I've only sold a couple best sellers…" I kissed the top of his head and rose to get us beers.

When I returned, he said, "Do you think you could fix your shirt? It's a little, um, distracting. Especially if we're just talking for the next - however."

"How's this?" I asked as I sat, simply crossing one side of the shirt over the other.

"Um. Better." He took a drink.

~

We talked for the next three hours about Vanessa, his kids, unfaithful relationships, and ethical decisions. I wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the alcohol, but he teared up a bit when we got to the children.

It was one o'clock when we decided it was time to sleep. I couldn't tell whether it was jet-lag or the emotional strain, but he seemed exhausted.

As we lay in bed, his arm around my waist and my back pressed to his chest, he whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I looked over my shoulder to see his face and found he was already asleep.