But they’d made an agreement. No more contact. Stand down.
It was best. They both knew it.
When she thought back, she wasn’t sure how it’d all happened. He’d helped her market her little Midwestern bakery biz. She’d started getting better reviews. Things improved. So they went out for drinks that one time to celebrate. Her treat.
Something about his sense of humor got to her. His mischievous smile and wicked mind. What is it about smart, funny men whose eyes sparkle when they look at you?
They ended up on his back deck with too much wine and the perfect candlelight under a clear summer sky. And one thing led to another.
And now here they were in the fall trying to unravel a powerful connection that didn’t have anywhere to go because in truth he was actually only single-ish and she was married-ish. At minimum, it was complicated.
The wind was blowing as she saw him walk away. She imagined them ducking into her favorite COVID safe coffee shop for a hot pumpkin latte (the one with real pumpkin puree.) They’d find a table shielded from the wind on the back patio overlooking the river. They’d watch the light dance. Undress each other with their eyes. A hug that lasted too long. Her body too close, leaning into him all the way down. His scent.
They would feel the vitality of their powerful turn on. The forbidden rush.
When she went home that night to her husband there would be that familiar sick feeling. Part guilt, part resentment, part pure grief.
They’d let things slide in their marriage for way too long. Any kind of real intimacy left the house with the second baby - a son. They were great friends but they hadn’t had sex in months - or was it years?
She’d tried to ignore her frustration, but after today she knew that she couldn’t live like that anymore. She had to change her marriage or get out.
She booked a call with me the very next day.