just like the moon

Javier could hardly wait to see you again since the kiss. He’s been antsy – his daughter even pointed it out. Caffeine has been his holy grail because of it. 

Thoughts of you haunt him at night, leaving him tossing and turning until sunlight peeks in through the curtains. Then he can’t go back to sleep because it’s his week with your daughter. 

He goes through the motions of getting her ready for school; watching her brush her teeth, helping her pick out an outfit, taming her unruly curls, making her breakfast, packing her lunch. After dropping her off, he drives to his father’s ranch to work. 

Since resigning from the DEA, helping out on the ranch has been his only source of income. Although it pays decently, he still feels like the itch for action isn’t being scratched. The adrenaline from his old job is something he longs for every day, but he’s also very aware that it’s the main reason why the two of you drifted apart.

He’d come back to the apartment drained from his day at work. One thing leads to another, and the two of you are arguing for the millionth time that week. He’d push, yelling at you, only for you to push back harder.

He loved the fire you had – he did. But when it came to arguments, you never backed down when it was obvious that he was tired. 

His footsteps would carry him to the bedroom, you tailing on his heels, voice getting louder and louder now that his back is towards you.

During times like these, he regretted getting married to you fresh out of college. The two of you were still babies and didn’t know your position in the world yet. You didn’t hesitate when he asked you to go to Colombia with him, telling him that you’d follow him wherever he wanted you to. He appreciated it at the time, but over time realized that you resented him for uprooting your life before it even got started. 

You never spoke those words outloud, but he knew. It was written all over your face.

Then you got pregnant with your baby girl, keeping it from him for weeks until it wasn’t easy to hide anymore. 

His career was at its peak, the scent trail on Escobar closer than it’s ever been. He wasn’t home, wasn’t present. When he was, the stench of alcohol on his clothes made you gag in your mouth. 

The news hit him like a punch in the gut, his drunken mind not completely processing the pregnancy test you were showing him. His red-rimmed eyes darted back and forth between the word ‘PREGNANT’ and your stomach. 

It wasn’t until your palm splayed against the fabric of your shirt that he breathed, realizing what you were telling him.

He blinked, meeting your teary eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Jav.”

He did what he always did: ran.

According to Steve, he got so wasted that night that he blacked out. Javier obviously doesn’t remember that, but either way, he’s not proud of how he acted.

Now, he stares out at the Rio Grande, watching the same kind of people he used to catch for a living smuggle drugs into the country. Not only did he make a promise to himself that he wouldn’t go back to that life, he made a promise to you and his daughter.

The greenland expands in front of him, water rippling as the men move out in their small boats. 

They’re right fucking there, Javier thinks to himself.

His younger self would’ve already had them cuffed, faced down in the dirt. But he’s not that ambitious 30-something year old anymore. He’s 41, has a child to look after, a house to maintain, family to spend time with, and perhaps a relationship to mend with you.

How fast the two of you went from strangers, to lovers, to enemies gives him whiplash whenever he thinks about everything that went down. You’ve been divorced for a year now, but you haven’t really been a couple for a lot longer than that.

Guess you could blame his job for that.

The old thoughts of his job is something he allows but that’s all they are – visitors rather than something permanent.

“Javier!” his cousin, Ricardo, calls out to him, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turns around, walking up the small hill. “What?”

“A few of the cows got out. We need help herding them.” Ric announces, watching his cousin with narrowed eyes against the harsh Texas sun.

Javier nods, pulling off his work gloves to pocket them.

“You okay?” Ric asks, looking over Javier’s shoulder and spotting what he was staring at. “You know, it’s okay to go back, right?”

He shakes his head faintly at his cousin, clapping the man on the shoulder as he passes him. “C’mon.”

The two of them walk in silence, work boots crunching against the soil as they make their way towards the barn. Chucho owned the biggest plot of land in Laredo, making it difficult to herd the animals once they got out – which was extremely rare.

He can see his other family and ranch hands trying their hardest to get the cows back, only to be met with moos instead of movement. The sight causes a small chuckle to escape his lips despite himself.

You stand in the kitchen of your apartment, hands gripping the edge of the counter. The sink drips every now and then, a reminder that you’ve been meaning to call someone to come fix it, but haven’t because you’ve been so busy and caught up with legal things.

The divorce took a toll on you. Not only did it have to make your child suffer, it had to take your dignity as well. You can hardly remember the last time you felt like yourself, and that’s the last thing you ever wanted.

Dishes that you’ve just washed sit in the right side of the sink, waiting to be rinsed and placed in the dish drain. But you’re too busy reminiscing. 

Liquid courage has been your best friend lately, though it also means that buried feelings tend to come up to make you feel something. You and Javier used to be a picture perfect couple; the one your friends would admire and wish they had for themselves.

It’s a shame that the two of you ended up the way that you did, because you loved how the two of you were in high school and college. You thought the two of you could conquer the world together, get married, have a big family, and live happily ever after.

Life had other plans apparently.

The sexual chemistry between the two of you never left, but it felt more like a fling rather than a marriage. He was always too tired to do anything, and when he did have energy, you felt like the weekend lover you knew he didn’t have. Like you were just something for him to take his frustration out on from work.

You missed having him around so much that you never said anything about how you felt. Because of that, the two of you became strangers living under the same roof.

Now you’re strangers raising a kid together. You’re sure he’s grown as a person, and so have you, even if you don’t necessarily believe it. 

Besides your daughter, therapy has been a big part of your life for the last six years. It’s helped you at least try to come to terms with what happened. Sometimes, people just fall out of love. There’s no way to know or tell. But now Javier wants to rekindle things, and you’re scared of all your progress being reversed if you let him back in again.

After finishing up the dishes, you grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer and plop down on the couch. A commercial fills the TV screen when you turn it on, lighting up the living room in blues and white. You keep the volume low, not really wanting to watch TV but needing something on in the background to distract yourself. 

This has been your night routine when you don’t have your daughter: eating your sorrows when you don’t feel like drinking anymore. 

After you got pregnant, you stopped caring about your body image, which is why you always thought that was one of the reasons why you and Javier drifted apart. The other night, he convinced you that wasn’t an issue though. 

That made you feel a little better.

A part of you will probably always desire affirmations from Javier in whatever form you can get them in.

Is that horrible and toxic?

Perhaps.

But he does the same thing, so does it really matter?

It’s not like the two of you are dating other people.

The sharp shrill of your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, nearly sending you out of your skin for a moment before you pick it up from the coffee table. You hold it between your ear and shoulder, stabbing at your ice cream with a spoon. “Hello?”

“Hi, mama,” your daughter beams on the other end of the line. “I just brushed my teeth.”

At that, you look up at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s already well past 8PM. “It’s your bedtime already?” you ask, propping your legs up on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, shuffling on the other end, “Daddy says that Tío Luis’ wedding is this weekend. Are we going?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. If you go to the wedding, that means you would have to see Javier and Chucho. But you also don’t want to deprive your little girl of spending time with her family. This isn’t about you – it’s never been about you – it’s always about her and what she wants.

“Yeah,” you start, leaning your head back against the couch, “I’m sure your cousins, tíos, and tías would love to see you.”

“They’d love to see you too, mama,” she states firmly, probably nodding her head.

A faint smile pulls at your lips at her comment, warmth blooming in your chest from your daughter’s reassurance. “Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better, mi amor.”

She giggles, “I know. I’m always right, aren’t I?”

You laugh with her, the conversation continuing about her day at school before she lets out a loud yawn. 

“You don’t have to stay on the phone with me, baby,” you gently say, sitting up to place your now finished ice cream down.

“I’m okay!” she exclaims, clearly not wanting to hang up just yet. “I just miss you.”

Your heart nearly shatters at that. “It’s only been a few days,” you murmur.

She exhales slowly, “I know, but that’s not what I mean. I miss you and dad… together.”

Oh.

Oh.

You take a slow, deep breath, blinking away the sudden tears brimming your eyes. It was obvious how strongly she felt about this entire situation, but you never thought she would just flat out tell you.

“Y’know,” you start, wiping away an unshed tear, “you’re too emotionally intelligent for your age, mi vida.”

“I know,” she sighs, “but I had to be, in order to survive this.”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your daughter has rendered you speechless at this point. 

“Sorry, mama,” she mumbles, prompting you to shake your head and stand up.

“No, it’s okay,” you state, rubbing your thumb over your bottom lip – a nervous habit you picked up from Javier way back when. “I’ll speak to him at the wedding, okay?”

Anything to get her to stop talking about it, right?

“Yay!” she beams, pulling a small huff from you. “I think Daddy will be excited to see you. He hasn’t been sleeping much.”

Worry churns in your gut at that, but you focus on her first comment. “You aren’t excited to see me too?” you tease.

She giggles, “Of course I am, mama.” Your daughter goes quiet for a moment, probably chewing on her bottom lip before she speaks up again, “I hope you guys figure things out. I miss how things used to be.”

Your breath catches momentarily, fingers fidgeting with the ends of a throw pillow when you sit back down. This isn’t a conversation you want to have at all, but especially not over the phone. It’ll be discussed when the time is right, and right now, that’s not it.

She truly doesn’t know the worst of what went down between you and Javier. She only saw and knew what the two of you wanted her to.

“Bedtime, mi amor,” you whisper. “I love you.”

You can hear the pout in her voice when she responds, “I love you, too, mama. Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams.”

With that, you hang up the phone, tossing it to the other side of the couch and running a hand down your face.

How are you supposed to face Javier this weekend?

Your love for him has never faded – probably never will. It’s settled deep into your skin, a reminder of the bad decision that you’d make again in a heartbeat.

Javier pulls every button of his red flannel through their designated loops, leaving the top one undone. He’s more nervous than he’d like to admit about seeing you again, leaving his fingers trembling, resulting in it being a little difficult to button up his shirt.

He hasn’t felt like a lovestruck teenager since your wedding. Having it in Laredo, where both of you grew up, made it a lot more intimate and perfect. Not as perfect as how you looked that day but pretty damn close.

It wasn’t anything grand. Fairy lights on his father’s ranch, a wooden dance floor, his drunk cousins promising to protect you as one of their own. 

That was his favorite thing: his cousins always taking care of you when he wasn’t around.

He remembers how scared you were when he was training at the academy. Worried about him getting hurt when you called at the end of the day.

Not getting hurt was always his promise to you. But in the end, he ended up hurting his marriage with you more.

Now he has the opportunity to fix it, and he’s determined not to fuck it up again.

Your therapy sessions have been a pretty big deal to you since then – you’ve always been open about it, not too scared to show vulnerability. And he doesn’t want to reverse any of your progress. 

Besides the few spats the two of you have every now and then, you really have become the best person that he knows. You have been since he met you and it makes him want to do better as well. He knows not to push you, especially when you’re stripping yourself bare in front of him to explain how you’re feeling that day.

Don’t fuck it up, he repeats over and over again in his head, finishing up getting ready before he heads to his daughter’s bedroom.

He knocks three times before he slowly opens the door, peeking his head in. “You just about done in here?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips.

Her face lights up at her father, twirling in her red dress that matches Javier’s shirt. “Ready!”

Javier chuckles fondly, walking deeper into the room when she sits on the edge of her bed. He helps her put on her black boots after she puts on her socks. Her gaze on him is heavy, but he doesn’t say anything until she does.

“Are you nervous to see mama?” she inquires, rocking back and forth in her place.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, patting her knee once he’s finished putting her shoes on. “Is it obvious?”

“You have that crease,” she points at his forehead, “between your brows.”

Javier relaxes his face at that, realizing that she’s right. “Then I guess I am, mi vida,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She smiles softly, the gap from her missing tooth showing. “That’s okay, daddy. I get nervous sometimes, too.”

He shakes his head slowly, awe spreading across his face as he stares down at his daughter. “You’re too smart for your age,” he gently pinches her chin, earning a giggle from her.

She leans into her dad’s side, wrapping her small arms around him. “I get if from both you and mama,” she looks up at him with her big brown eyes, “You, for your ability to figure out the toughest problems–”

“The math you’re learning isn’t that hard,” he scrunches his nose, shaking his head.

“It’s the ones with multiple numbers to subtract that get me!” she claims, holding up a finger before she continues. “And mama, for her ability to… overcome?” she looks towards Javier, a question written across her face on if she used the right word.

Javier nods slowly.

“Her ability to overcome her feelings,” she states triumphantly.

A smile pulls at his lips, “Yeah, your mom is pretty smart, isn’t she?” he murmurs.

His daughter nods, leaning her head against his side. Javier cards his fingers through her curls, pressing his lips to the top of her head. They’re silent for a moment, breathing in sync as they bask in the warmth of each other.

Javier never thought he would be a good father, but she just makes it so goddamn easy. She lights up every room that she walks into and steals everybody's hearts. She’s… a mini you, so to speak.

After a while, they leave to head to the wedding. Luis and his people rented out the barn at Tacubaya Ranch for the ceremony and reception. It’s a bit out of the way but it’s worth it for the family.

The place is beautifully decorated: multiple round tables with white cloth that can sit at least 8 people per table, warm fairy lights to set the mood, dangling diamonds in the shape of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a dance floor towards the front, and the various food dishes surrounding it on three sides.

Outside, rows of wooden seats frame the long aisle; white rose petals in the grass, a big white arch that overlooks the view of the greenery. 

Javier sits near the front with his daughter and father, waiting for the bride to come down the aisle. He can tell that his cousin is fidgety – the man constantly adjusts his tie and he’s sweating bullets. All with a grin on his face, though.

Despite himself, Javier looks around for you. His arm is slung over the back of his daughter’s chair, craning his neck back every now and then to see if he can spot you. Family come over, greeting the three of them, but never you – the one he truly wants to see.

He leans down to murmur to his daughter, “What’d you and your mom talk about on the phone?”

Her brown eyes snap towards him. “I never tell,” she pretends to zip her lips, tossing the imaginary key.

Javier chuckles, shaking his head. “Did she say she was coming?”

She nods, beginning to look around as well. A small frown forms on her face as she realizes you’re not here yet. The same furrow Javier has between his brows forms between hers. “She promised,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.

He watches his daughter, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and brushing back her curls. It’s one thing for you not to show up for him, but it’s a whole other thing for you not to show up for your kid.

So where the hell are you?

Your eyes follow Isabella’s form walking back and forth across the room. She’s been pacing for the last 10 minutes according to her mother. The older woman dragged you upstairs the second you arrived, hoping you could calm her down.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through the floor,” you state, walking into the room and closing the door.

Isabella stops dead in her tracks, a loud exhale of relief escaping her when she sees you. “You came,” she jogs over to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You wrap your arms around her middle, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bella.”

She squeezes you once before letting go to look at you. “It’s been too long.”

Unfortunately, she isn’t wrong.

After the divorce, you distanced yourself from Javier’s family. It felt like the right thing to do since legally they aren’t your family anymore. They took you in as their own, and that’s how you decided to repay them apparently.

You’re not proud of it – they had nothing to do with you and Javier’s relationship, but you know how they are and how they would’ve pushed for the two of you to get back together. One of his aunts even went as far as telling you that you could get the divorce reversed within the first 30 days and it would be like it never happened.

But it did.

The divorce isn’t something you’re ashamed of – you don’t want to hide it. Hiding it means that you pretend like it wasn’t a major part of your life. All the heartache and tears that were shed mean nothing if you ignore it, right?

That’s not something you’ll ever do.

You and Isabella talk for a while. She’s stopped her pacing and is sitting by the window now, overlooking all the people that showed up.

“How did you do it?” she asks, looking over at you from her spot, “Marry Javier.”

For a long moment, you don’t respond, thinking of the right words to say. On the spot, you can’t think of any. Marrying Javier was probably the easiest thing you’ve done in your life, and you don’t regret it as much as people may think.

The town has their own story of how the divorce went down, but only you and Javier know the truth. There’s no bad blood, you don’t think that he isn’t fit to be a father like someone mentioned to you; that’s the furthest thing from the truth. You couldn’t ask for a better father for your daughter, and you’re forever grateful that the two of you are civil enough to raise her together. Even if you’re separate.

“It was easy,” you finally answer, “I thought long and hard about whether he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with…” you trail off, memories of that day flooding your mind.

You were so nervous that you nearly threw up. Your parents were as big of a mess as you were: that was the first time you ever saw your father cry. He barely managed to pull it together to walk you down the aisle. 

Isabella notices the look on your face, straightening up to join you on the couch. She adjusts her dress so she’s not getting it dirty, “So why’d you guys separate?”

That pulls you out of your thoughts, meeting her gaze momentarily. “It just happened,” you shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, “We became different people, I guess.”

Honestly, that’s the best way you can put it without going into detail. Yes, his job played a major role in your divorce. Yes, the pregnancy did, too. But if both of you had put in the effort, you probably would’ve been fine eventually.

To you, arguing with him was easier than admitting your insecurities. No one wants to deal with that, let alone admit it to someone. 

“Do you still love him?” she probes, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ll always love him, Bella,” you answer easily, “He gave me my daughter.”

“But are you still in love with him?”

You take a quiet deep breath at the question, averting her gaze. If you admit it, that opens a fresh floodgate of emotions that you don’t need right now. If you deny it, not only are you lying to her, but you’re lying to yourself as well.

“If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be,” you state, shrugging.

Eventually, the two of you have to go down; you have to find a seat and Isabella has to walk down the aisle. 

You hold your dress so you’re not stepping on the hem of it and getting it dirty. Clacking from your heels sound through the barn as you make your way outside to where everyone is gathered. 

A few heads turn towards you, followed by low murmurs. The gossipping isn’t something that you’ve missed at all.

Instinctively, you look around for your daughter. You have no intention of sitting near Javier, but you still want to know where she is. You spot her towards the front between him and his dad, and you relax your shoulders, taking a seat closest to the aisle in the back.

You cross one leg over the other, resting your hands in your lap. The Texas heat licks at your exposed shoulders, the sun blocked by the patio cover overhead. Thankfully, there are some outdoor fans that make the heat a little more bearable.

You watch your kid swing her legs, her brown hair fanning over her shoulders. She looks over her shoulder, scanning the people before she spots you in the back. Her face lights up and she waves excitedly, beckoning you to come over. The action catches Javier’s attention, his gaze traveling back to you. He doesn’t gesture or mouth anything, but his eyes do soften.

Briefly, it reminds you of how he used to look at you and it tugs at your heart, an unwanted lump forming in your throat.

Without really thinking, you get up slowly, your feet carrying you over to where they’re sitting. There’s an empty seat on Javier’s right side and you swallow your pride to sit down next to him. You cross your legs again, still keeping a respectable distance from him.

The two of you meet each other’s eyes, giving one another a small nod of acknowledgement before you face forward again. Though, Javier doesn’t look away. His eyes burn into your temple, making you wonder what he’s thinking.

His expression is completely unreadable, which is odd to you because once upon a time, you were able to read him like a book.

During the ceremony, tears are shed, whistles are made, family is united. All while you and Javier repeatedly steal glances at each other. You feel like teenagers all over again: too afraid to approach one another because you were scared of rejection.

When everyone stands to head inside, you linger back, needing a moment to breathe. Sitting next to him for what felt like an eternity messed with your mind. His scent clings stubbornly to your memory, cedar with a hint of leather. It sparks up memories that you aren’t sure you want to face yet.

Javier sits at a table inside with his father. The older man is eating the food that is being served while Javier chews on his nicotine gum. His daughter is on the dance floor with her cousins, a big smile on her face. Every now and then, he looks around for you again, unsure of where you went after the ceremony.

The reception is always Javier’s favorite part at a wedding. It was his favorite at yours too. Family get drunk, it’s an excuse to eat desserts that everyone knows isn’t good for them, laughs are loud and genuine, and memories are made. He remembers how chaotic his cousins were during his wedding reception, but they all had pure intentions.

Finally, he spots you talking to a man he doesn’t know towards the very front of the barn. He sits up a little straighter, chewing on his gun a little harder than necessary at the sight. You seem like you know the guy, putting a hand on his bicep when you laugh at a joke. And it’s not just some fake laugh that you give strangers that you no longer want to talk to, it’s your real laugh. One he hasn’t heard in a long time.

He’s almost about to get up before Chucho speaks up, “No lo hagas. (Don’t do it.)”

Javier glances over at his father, shrinking back at his words. “No voy a hacer nada, papá. (I’m not going to do anything, dad.)”

The older man gives him a knowing look, putting down his fork. “You’ve been the same about her since high school,” he claims, watching Javier take a swig of his beer and look back in your direction. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready, mijo.”

He knows his dad is right, but that doesn’t stop him from getting the urge to walk over to you anyway. He’s also well aware of the fact that he has no claim over you anymore; you’re a grown woman and you can talk to other people. But it’s still not a sight that he likes to see.

To him, it almost feels like a betrayal. The two of you were together for so long that it feels weird not having you within arms reach. His hand would always be on your thigh, or your shoulder, or your lower back. In his own way, it was him silently telling people that you were already taken – if the rock on your left hand wasn’t already obvious enough.

Javier can’t even remember the last time he actually flirted with a woman. It’s only ever been you and he’s not sure if he wants to try with someone else. Not when you agreed to try with him again. He’s been loyal to you since you caught his eye and it will most likely stay that way, even if you don’t end up back together.

Eventually, you walk away from the guy and sit at an empty table. Javier sees this as an opportunity to approach you, regardless of what his old man said. He takes another swig of liquid courage before he makes his way through the crowd to you.

You look up with a faint smile when he comes up to the table, sitting down with one chair in between the two of you. Still giving you space, but leaving the option to move next to him available. 

“Why didn’t you come sit with me and Chucho?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the chair.

You shrug faintly, taking a sip from your water bottle. Briefly, his eyes drop to the bottle, taking a mental note of the lack of alcohol. “It didn’t feel right to,” you claim.

Javier furrows his brows at that, keeping his gum in the back of his mouth. It’s a subconscious move, he thinks, knowing that you never appreciated when people smacked their gum during conversations. “You’re always welcome to, cariño,” the nickname slips out but he doesn’t take it back, and you don’t comment on it. “We’re still family.”

“Legally, we’re not,” you jab lightly.

“Regardless of that,” he starts, “you’re still family. You shouldn’t feel weird about hanging around us.”

It’s only then that he realizes how much you’re looking around, probably feeling out of place now that you aren’t binded to his family legally. But legality doesn’t choose that, you do. Especially since you’re the mother of his daughter. If anything, that makes you family by blood.

“It’s just…” you trail off, trying to find the right word, “A little strange that I’m here. People are looking at me like I broke your heart or something.” When you laugh it off, it tugs at his heart.

He shakes his head, “Well, they’re wrong and you shouldn’t worry about them.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest – a defense mechanism you’ve had since he’s known you. Like you’re shielding yourself from the worst.

Surprisingly, the conversation is still easy with you; no one’s yelling for once and it makes Javier feel at ease. The barn seems like it narrows down to just the two of you. You share laughs, reminisce about old family drama and the days before everything fell apart.

Just easy.

It was always easy with you, and he hates that he ruined things with his job. He still feels incredibly guilty about making you believe that he no longer loved you or blamed you for anything when that isn’t the case at all. 

He’ll always love you, even if the two of you aren’t necessarily together.

“So,” he draws out, deciding to just ask, “who’s the guy?”

You raise your brows slightly at the question, noticing the jealousy he’s trying (and failing) to hide. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to before you sat down,” he reminds you, knowing that you’re playing dumb to mess with him.

You shrug, leaning back in your seat and sipping on your water. “Oh, that guy.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “that guy.”

A faint but audible chuckle leaves you, shaking your head slowly. “I thought we agreed not to be possessive of each other. I mean, we’re not together anymore,” you murmur.

He weighs his head from side to side, “Yeah, but that was before you said you would give me another chance.”

“Did I say that?” you inquire, feigning innocence. “I don’t think those were my exact words.”

Javier chuckles fondly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and drawing your eyes there for a split second. “You didn’t flat out reject me either,” he claims.

“True,” you tip your bottle towards him.

He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “We could’ve worked out, baby – we should’ve been able to fix things before it got to that point.”

You take a deep breath at his words, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the plastic table cover. You barely process it when your nail pokes a hole through it. “We were pretty young when we got married, Javi,” you shake your head slowly, “Not all couples that start like that actually last.”

“We were supposed to be the one that did,” he starts, hearing you scoff and avoid his gaze. “I am sorry for how I acted. I know how hard it was for you to be in Colombia with me, and I shouldn’t have put my job over our relationship.”

“All you do is apologize,” you express, “but you never actually change.”

“It’ll be different this time,” Javier claims.

“How?” you shrug, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he states firmly, “Because I’m going to put in the work. Whatever it takes to get you back.” He pauses, studying your exasperated expression. He knows it’ll take more than just words to fix this, so he suggests something. “I’ll go to therapy with you.”

You furrow your brows at that, confusion spreading across your face. “You know, couples tend to go to therapy before they seperate… not after.”

Despite himself, his lips curve into a small smirk. “I know, but I’ll do it; however many sessions of a stranger telling me my problems and how to fix them. I will do that for you.” He trails off, looking over at your daughter on the dance floor and then back to you, “For us.”

Javier has in fact stuck to his word. Every week, without fail, for the last two months, he’s shown up to therapy with you. Your daughter is ecstatic that both of you are putting in the effort to be her parents again… together.

Now that summer break has started for her, she hangs out with her grandpa while the two of you go to therapy. She’s beginning to push for family dinners every Sunday, but you’d rather take it one step at a time.

To say you’re proud of and grateful for Javier is an understatement. Your mother used to always tell you that he’d never clean up his act.

You’re glad that she was wrong.

This Friday, you and Javier even took the same car. It’s your week to have your daughter, so he thought it would be easier and save gas if you took one car. Plus, he had to drop her off at his dad’s and then head back into town to go to your therapist’s office.

Now, both of you are driving back to the ranch to pick her up. Today, it’s been gloomy all day, but that doesn’t dim your daughter’s smile. She nearly knocks the two of you over when she runs up and hugs you.

“Hola, dulce niña (Hi, sweet girl),” Javier greets her, stroking her hair back.

She looks up at the both of you with a big grin on her face. “¡El abuelo y yo hicimos galletas! (Grandpa and I made cookies!)” she exclaims.

“¿Lo sabías? (Did you now?)” you ask, looking over at Chucho when he gets up from his recliner. You haven’t had much interaction with the man since Javier started going to therapy with you, and you can imagine that he has some words he’d like to share with you.

“¿Puedo hablar contigo? (Can I talk to you?)” Chucho says your name in a soft tone, no sense of audible scolding.

You share a glance with Javier before you nod at his father, peeling away from your daughter and following him into the kitchen.

He sets his cowboy hat down on the island, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. You stand with your hands intertwined in front of you, like you did when you were younger and wanted to ask your parents something you knew they were going to say no to.

“You know he loves you, right?” he asks quietly.

The question catches you off guard for a second, not expecting that to be the first thing he says. “I do,” you murmur, fiddling your thumbs as your nerves build.

“So you can understand my concern when I say that I need you to be careful with his heart,” he expresses sincerely, no room for anything that isn’t serious.

You swallow visibly, your eyes not fraying from the older man. 

“I know you’re adults and you can figure out your feelings on your own–”

You exhale, nearly chuckling. “There’s nothing going on between the two of us,” you claim, shaking your head.

Chucho raises an eyebrow, nodding once, “Sure there isn’t.”

You open your mouth to speak again but your daughter comes running into the kitchen, Javier trailing behind her. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to catch her before she got in here,” he apologizes, picking her up and mumbling something in Spanish to her.

You know he’s lying but you don’t say anything. You’re still stunned about what Chucho just told you.

“Um,” you start, clearing your throat and looking back over at the man who was your father-in-law at some point. He’s still giving you that same knowing look, making your mind frazzled. “We should go before it starts storming. Don’t want to get caught in the middle of nowhere with no service, now do we?”

Before Javier can answer, you’re already heading out to the car, leaving him a little confused. He looks back at his father, adjusting his daughter at his side. “What’d you say to her, papá?”

The older man shrugs, “Nothing she didn’t already know. I just gave her a little push.”

On the drive back to your apartment, you stare out the window the entire time. By this time, the sky looks like it’s just about ready to open up. Every now and then, you glance in the rearview mirror, checking on your daughter. She’s not the biggest fan of storms, and her stuffed bunny is clutched to her chest tightly for comfort.

“Hey,” Javier gets your attention, placing a hand on your thigh and sending heat straight up your spine. 

Now that Chucho’s said something, you realize he’s right. It’s not like you ever stopped loving Javier, you just didn’t feel that connection anymore. But he’s been so patient and good to you for the last 8 weeks, that maybe, you are falling for him… again.

Is it even possible to fall for the same person twice?

If it is, that’s what’s happening to you right now.

“What’d my old man say to you?” he asks, glancing over at you when he stops at a red light. 

You give him the best smile you can muster at the moment, shaking your head slowly. “Just to be careful,” you whisper, softening your expression the longer you look at him.

When he turns his head to continue driving, you admire his side profile in the dim lighting. He’s always been perfect – he was your perfect guy. But even if you do get back together, who’s to say that it’ll be the same level of extreme love again. The kind that pressed in on all sides and kept you warm, safe, and comfortable. 

Honestly, you’re terrified to give your heart to somebody again. Even if it’s the same person that had it to begin with. Colombia made you into two different people that ended up growing apart and resenting each other for major things. 

Neither of you are getting any younger, and it feels like it’s too late to start over with someone else. And you have a child to consider.

“Be careful with what?” he probes gently, putting his hand back on the steering wheel.

The loss of warmth hits you like a punch in the gut, “With our hearts.”

He glances at you again and before you know it, he’s parked in front of your building.

“Can we go inside before it starts pouring?” your daughter asks, pulling you out of your daze.

Both you and Javier chuckle, getting out of the car finally. Javier helps her out, and you lean your head back and close your eyes, taking a much needed deep breath. Being in the car was starting to overwhelm you… well, your thoughts were, at least. Along with Javier’s cologne.

You don’t know how long you stand like that, but your face twitches when you feel the first raindrop. You open your eyes, being met with the dark grey sky and a dozen more drops hitting your face. A clap of thunder rumbles in the distance, telling you that the storm has finally rolled in.

“C’mon,” Javier murmurs, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you inside.

Once you unlock the door, you hear the heavy rainfall begin.

The storm rages on for hours, cutting the power and forcing all of you to huddle up in the living room. Javier is on one side of the couch, and you’re on the other, fidgeting with your earring as you stare out the window. The rain pounds on the glass, muffling the sounds outside completely. 

You look over, taking in the way your daughter is tucked into her dad’s side. She fell asleep at least 20 minutes ago, her body limp against Javier’s. The sight brings a small smile to your face. If you’re being honest, you miss these quiet moments within the three of you. Just basking in each other’s company rather than filling the silence with words. 

Javier catches your eyes, his lips curving to match yours. He shifts – careful of his sleeping child – and places his hand in between the two of you, his palm up. An offer to hold his hand.

You hesitate to overthink it. If you take his hand, you’re letting him back into your life intimately. If you don’t take it, he’ll think it’s a cold shoulder and possibly retreat on everything he’s been doing lately.

Fuck, who are you kidding? Javier’s never going to give up on you, whether you want him to or not. You’re the only person he’s ever loved and it’ll stay that way forever, you think.

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. The warmth of his palm shoots straight through you, reminding you of the good days. 

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles, a contemplative look on his face. You wait, wanting him to ask on his own time instead of pushing him. That’s something major that your therapist taught you when it came to you and Javier’s tempers. Both of you are too stubborn to ever admit that you’re wrong, so you argue. Nine times out of ten, those arguments ended with sleeping in different rooms.

You were such different people back then. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were dating through high school and college. Both of you had high ambitions and thought you could get through anything.

But then his job got in the way.

You don’t think that could happen again, but you also know Javier. He can’t sit still for five minutes and constantly needs to be doing something. He’d deny it but you know he misses the DEA. Maybe not the bureaucratic part of the job, but definitely the thrill of the chase.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft and quiet.

“Honestly?” you meet his eyes again, your voice matching his tone, “Your job… and how we were before it got in the way.”

He nods faintly, not taking his eyes off of you. Subconsciously, you shift under his gaze, your skin suddenly feeling hot to the touch.

“Do you think we could ever go back to that?” he whispers, thunder rumbling and rattling the glasses in your cabinet. “Be that in love again?”

“I think we’re on the right track,” you admit quietly, “You’ve been so… supportive and patient, and I really appreciate it, Jav. I know I’m not the easiest to deal with sometimes.”

“Don’t sell yourself short like that, cariño.”

It’s things like that that come out of his mouth.

There are a million reasons you could think of, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t work again. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

By your daughter’s bedtime, the storm is still pounding on the glass and your mind is still warring with you.

The future is a scary thing for everyone. The knowledge that the decisions you make every single day either make or break your life. All you can do is hope that they’re the right choices.

So when you make the choice of leading Javier into the darkness of your room, you can only pray that you’re making the right decision for your relationship and your family.

Lightning strikes, lighting up the room as you light a few candles. Javier stands by the door, hands in his pockets, unsure of what’s happening. Hell, you don’t really know what you’re doing either to be honest.

Emotionally, you’re convinced that he wants you again, but you need some sort of physical tell.

You never thought the two of you could come this far in healing. It feels like a big piece of your soul has found its way back to you. That’s what Javier does to you – he makes you feel whole. Whole as a person, whole as a partner, and most importantly, whole as a mother. It’s time for your family to be complete again.

Tentatively, you take his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed with him. It takes you a moment to find the right words, but once you do, you’re completely open and honest with him. “Do you think we’re doing well?”

“I do,” Javier nods slowly, not daring to break eye contact with you. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand, easing your nerves. “You make it easy.”

Heat travels to your cheeks in the candlelit room, tilting your head down to let out an incredulous chuckle. “You can thank my therapist for that.”

“No, that’s all you, querida.”

You meet his soft brown eyes again, knitting your brows together when emotion threatens to spill over. “Do you really mean that?”

Javier doesn’t even hesitate to reassure you, “Of course I do. You’ve grown so much – not only for yourself, but for our daughter, too. She’s incredibly proud of you… and so am I.” He pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and taking a chance, “I am proud of the woman that I love.”

Faintly, your breath catches in your throat. You haven’t heard him say that in years at this point. It was always easier for the both of you to bury your feelings than talk about them. They held so much weight that it sank your marriage. Neither of you ever stopped loving each other: Javier thought he was protecting you by pushing you away, and in return, you thought he didn’t want you anymore.

But that was never the case.

Javier wants and needs you so bad that it hurts. Pushing you away didn’t protect you, it only made things worse – he’s realized that now and he has to stop doing it.

Cautiously, he closes the distance between the two of you, still giving you the chance to move away if you want. When you don’t, he cups your face, rubbing your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb as he studies your infuriatingly beautiful features. Features he loves and sees in your daughter.

He shakes his head slowly, astonishment in his eyes. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” he whispers.

That’s all it takes before you close the distance completely, locking lips with him. His plush lips are warm and familiar to you, something you’ve missed deeply.

“Tell me you love me again,” you murmur against them, carding your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

He does the same thing over and over, laying you down on the bed like you’re something sacred. The next clap of thunder shakes the entire apartment building, but neither of you notice, too busy drowning in each other after years of separation.

His hands slip under your shirt, palms flat on your skin and relearning your body. Yours nimbly unbutton his flannel, needing as much of him as you can get. Javier matches your fervor, pulling your shirt over your head and shrugging off his, tossing them both onto the floor.

You pause, noticing the chain dangling from his neck. His silver wedding band stares you dead in the face, making you wonder if he ever took it off in the first place. You wrap your hand around it, pulling him down for another kiss. The second your skin makes contact with his, he groans, lips trailing along your jawline.

“Javi.”

He pulls back at the sound of your voice, giving you his full attention even though he’d rather rip your clothes off and reclaim you as his once again.

“Promise me,” you start, looking up at him with your arms wrapped around his neck, “Promise me that this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“I promise,” he nods immediately, swallowing back his desire when he realizes how serious you are. “I will put you and our daughter above everything else because that’s what you deserve.”

You believe him. You have to. In order for this to work again, you have to be honest with each other and believe each other over anything else, right?

“Good,” with that, you pull him back down for a heated kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Clothes are discarded, tossed to the floor without second thought. God, you didn’t know how much you needed this until the bulbous head of his cock breaches your entrance, stretching you sweetly. You both sigh in unison into each other’s mouths, kissing to distract from the sting of the stretch.

When you grip his bicep, Javier pulls back to make sure you’re okay before he fills you to the brim. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his girth as he mouths at your neck. It feels right – like coming home after a long day. In this case, it’s been years. You can finally come up for air after suffocating in your own feelings for so long.

He draws his hips back slowly, watching your face contort in pleasure, before he sinks back in, repeating the action over and over. The slow pace allows you to feel every heavy inch of him, your velvet walls pulling him in deeper. 

Your fingers grip his hair, heat churning low in your belly. “Jav,” you breathe, “Baby.”

He groans at the term of endearment, snapping his hips harder but still keeping it slow and deep, not wanting to rush this intimate connection after so long without you. “I’m right here, cariño,” he presses his forehead to yours, his hands hiking your thighs higher up his waist, “I’m not goin’ anywhere ever again, you hear me?”

A breathy whimper leaves you in response, your thighs being adjusted making you open up more. You feel Javier everywhere: his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together, his thumbs caressing the underside of your thighs, his big hands gripping them tightly. All while you’re pliant underneath him, right where you want to be.

The storm still rages on outside, seeming to get more intense the longer the two of you stay tangled. The lightning is a blinding white, followed by loud claps of thunder that mask your sounds.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Javier rasps, kissing the corner of your mouth and picking up the pace. “Squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

The sound of wet skin slapping grows louder, your slick arousal seeping out of you, down to your ass. Every time his hips retreat, you clench around the head of his cock, chasing the feeling of him.

He adjusts the angle of your hips, driving into that sweet spot deep inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes. You shut them tight, unashamed of your noises now as you tilt your head back, one hand gripping the pillow under your head for purchase.

“Fuck,” your voice is shaky, the familiar tingle at the base of your spine growing more prominent. “I’m close, baby.”

“I know,” Javier whispers roughly, “Where do you want me–”

“Inside,” you don’t hesitate to answer, “Please.”

He lets out a ragged exhale, his cock twitching violently inside you. “Are you sure?”

You nod desperately, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I am.”

At your confirmation, he slips an arm under you, holding you in place, his other hand firmly holding your hip. A bead of sweat slides down his back as he increases his speed, keeping his length deep inside you. He grits his teeth, holding off on his own orgasm as you near yours, your walls clamping down around him.

Your nails rake down his back, vision going blurry around the edges. Breathy moans escape between your lips, spurring him on to get you to your climax. When you toss your head back, a strike of lightning rips across the dark canopy that is the sky, booming claps of thunder following, drowning out your loud shared noises as electricity ripples through both of you.

Javier’s warm seed spills into you in thick pulses, your gummy walls fluttering helplessly around his sensitive cock, milking him completely dry. He slumps against you, burying his face in your neck, peppering kisses along your sweat-slick skin.

It feels like it’s been forever once you’ve caught your breath, Javier slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom to get a wash cloth.

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips, satisfied not only with the sex, but with the fact that the two of you have grown so much. When he said he would go to therapy with him, you didn’t think he would actually commit to it the way that he has. And just because the two of you have made up physically, you know there’s still some wounds that need to be healed over time.

Now, he lies beside you, your head resting on his shoulder. You lift it to pepper a few kisses along his skin, hearing him let out a sigh of content. “We’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, looking over at you.

You don’t know how much you believe him until morning comes, the sun shining through the blinds, no traces of last night’s storm. You smile at the peace, finally feeling whole again.

᯽ tags: @missladym1981 , @kirsteng42 , @mcthsman , @petalsinblood , @rosharanfiction , @cuteanimalmama , @harriedandharassed , @madpanda75 , @shadowqueen2024 , @picketniffler , @kokoluwie , @reedispunk , @milla-frenchy , @missadangel , @gothcsz , @kai-lovey , @sawymredfox , @baronessvonglitter , @hanahleah , @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 , @joelmillerspnk , @peepawmiller

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You decide you don't care.

You've run into Joel Miller again, twenty years after your hot summer fling. You were young and stupid and horny, and he was your neighbor Tommy's older brother. Time tore you apart from each other, but seeing him again only reignited what you felt for him all these years. Now Tommy is getting married, and fate, in the form of a rehearsal dinner, has brought you and Joel together again.

He slows his movements just to watch you squirm, dragging the length of him almost all the way out before slamming back in. "Jerked off so many times just thinkin' about you," he murmurs, voice rough with want as he picks up the pace.

"Fuck," you whimper, your walls fluttering around him. "It was one summer," you whisper. "Just three months of fucking." You've tried to deny yourself the pleasure of calling, or even checking his social media, but your attempt to mitigate the summer you grew up always failed. Even now the sweet sting of the stretch around him is familiar, a homecoming.

"Still know how to take me just right, don't you?" His voice is gravel, words strangled as his hips roll in slow, deep thrusts, savoring every second of being inside you after so long. "God.. missed this. Missed you."

"Fuck," you sigh. "More, Joel," you beg.

"Greedy little bug," he chuckles, using the nickname you swore you hated but secretly loved. His words are puncutated by sharp thrusts: "Always. So. Damn. Needy."

You whimper his name with each thrust. culminating in your climax, your walls pulsing around him like hummingbird wings.

"Just like that," he pants, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. A ragged groan tears from his throat, hips snapping forward to bury himself as deep as possible, spilling inside you with a shuddering exhale.

Even back then, boasting that you'd just gotten on birth control, you'd only ever taken him raw. Just like now. Joel's slumped against you, spent and boneless, face tucked into the crook of your neck as he takes shaky, uneven breaths.

"We should get back to the others," you tell him.

He huffs out a breathless laugh against your skin. "Yeah.. you're right. Damn it." He eases out of you, cleaning you up as best he can with a Kleenex from your purse. Quickly you both fix your clothing and get tidied up. "I'll go first," you tell him. "You come later. We don't want to arouse suspicion, okay?"

"Only if you promise me a dance at the reception tomorrow," he says with a smirk.

"Jesus, we're not doing this again," you tell him with more conviction than you actually feel. "Fine," you give in. "One dance. Tomorrow. Then it's over."

You quickly dab on more lipstick as you make your way back to the dining room, almost running into Tess. Joel's wife Tess.

A glass of red wine in her hand, she eyes you up and down with a lifted brow. "There you are. Was starting to think you got lost or something. Maria's looking for you."

"There was a line for the restroom," you lie. "So.. how have you been? Where's Joel?" You feign not having seen him.

She sips her wine, her eyes perceptive, almost accusatory in their glint. "I've been good. And Joel's around here somewhere.. he went to step outside for a smoke."

Suddenly he's next to you, having come from a separate corridor. His hand is on the small of your back for the briefest of moments before he goes to Tess's side. "Hey, sweetheart." He places a soft kiss on her cheek. "Hey you," he says congenially, as if he hadn't just filled you up with his cum just five minutes ago.

"There you are. Great to see you, Joel." You force a smile on your face, hating to have to endure this pretense.

"Likewise, bug. You look lovely." His words are nonchalant; the way his gaze lingers on you is anything but. Tess arches a brow but stays quiet.

Suddenly you feel the gush of his spend in your panties. Apparently you hadn't cleaned up all that well earlier. And apparently he'd come pretty deep inside you. "Thank you," you say, excusing yourself. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow. I don't want to keep the bride waiting."

"And how do you know these people again?" your husband Aaron asks as you take your seats in the church pew. Tommy and Maria's wedding is about to start soon, and to play it safe, you chose seats right in the middle, groom's side.

"Tommy was my neighbor during high school. We were friends." You fidget with your dress, a slate blue that was one of the few allowed colors mentioned in the invitation. "And we dated very briefly," you add, unable to keep some of the truth from him. "But I did befriend Maria after they got engaged."

He nods, brows drawn together. "So we're at your ex-boyfriend's wedding."

"Not my recent ex, obviously. I was with Tommy years ago." Your hand covers his in an attempt to soothe him. It seems you're always trying to soothe and reassure and appease him. Maybe that's why the moment you saw Joel at the rehearsal dinner last night you had no qualms about fucking him like you'd been starving for it.

The ceremony itself is interminable. You're glad you opted for a quick city hall wedding yourself. But today there are candles and hymns and prayers and during the vows, the most important part of this morning, your eyes can't help but drift to Joel, standing next to his little brother at the altar. He must feel your gaze on him, because he instantly pins you down with his stare, bold and impertinent, yet giving nothing away. As always, what goes on between you is of utmost secrecy.

At the reception, Joel stands at the head table, microphone in hand, his voice smooth and practiced as he delivers his Best Man speech. "To put it plainly, I can't think of two people more deserving of this happiness than my little brother and his wife," he finishes, smiling at Tommy and Maria.

The guests applaud and toast the bride and groom with champagne. The taste is sour in your mouth as you watch Joel take Tess out onto the dance floor. "I Swear" by Jason Michael Montgomery plays smoothly over the speakers and your envious, hungry eyes take in the sight of Joel and Tess dancing close together. He leans in to murmur in Tess's ear and she chuckles, giving him a soft kiss before they part. The DJ shifts to another song.

Joel makes a beeline straight for you.

You sit up straight, heart pounding as he asks you to dance. Giving a nervous glance to your husband you smile politely in acceptance, promising Aaron you'll return soon to dance with him too. You put down your napkin and join Joel.

"What do you think you're doing?" you whisper, maintaining a tight smile for the other guests to see.

"Just thinkin' how ironic it is now. Both Miller brothers off the table, officially. Feels like only yesterday you were taking us one after the other, filling you up, stretching you out, pumping our cum into you." Despite his salacious words he looks like he's talking to you about golf, or the weather, or any mundane thing.

"You should've put that in your Best Man speech," you mutter, and try to keep from yelping as he pinches you. "I remember," you admit, caving in to the memories. "I remember.."

Those were sweltering summer days when you'd come home from college, restless, young, stupid. How quickly you'd found Joel and Tommy, the latter all too eager. There was a certain thrill in seducing Joel. You'd wanted him the most - his experience and his aloofness. But after that summer your parents moved away, and you were no longer neighbors with the Millers. Years went by. Joel found Tess and married her. After hearing about it you spent the following months in a kind of stupor, finding the man who would eventually become your husband and putting all the unspent passion into that relationship. You told yourself it worked, that it was only right. Even years later when you still don't feel that spark for him.

Only ever with Joel.

"I guess all good things have to come to an end," you tell him.

"Not always," he replies. "Meet me in the washroom in five."

After making some halfhearted excuse to your husband you wait in the handicapped stall, leaning against the wall, hoping for the tiles to cool your burning skin. Your panties are already drenched in anticipation. Joel enters, clicking the door shut behind him and locking it. He crowds you against the wall immediately, lifting your dress over your thighs.

"Look at this mess," his voice is pure gravel as his fingers glide through your slick folds before pressing two digits deep inside. "Already drippin' for me like some cheap whore.." You gasp at his touch and he quickly plants his palm over your mouth to quiet you. His lips brush the shell of your ear. "Don't want anyone to hear what a little slut you are." He adds a third finger. stretching you out so deliciously as he fucks in and out in slow, deep strokes. "Bet nobody else ever made you this wet." He curls his fingers, eliciting a whimper from you as they stroke tantalizingly against your g-spot. "Answer me, bug.."

"No," you gasp, voice muffled by his hand. "No one else.."

"No one else," he repeats in agreement. "It's always been me." He pulls his hand away and replaces it with his mouth, kissing you hard and rough. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit.

"Just fuck me," you beg him, and with one gruff motion he spins you to face the wall, yanking your hips back against him.

"Fine." His voice is raw as the sound of his belt buckle coming undone behind you. He tugs your dress up and pulls your panties down. Not bothering with patience, his palm comes down on your bare ass in a sharp crack before he lines himself up and shoves into you to the hilt.

"Fuck," he groans as you're trying desperately to keep your whimpers quiet, "still so goddamn tight." One hand holds you in place while the other fists in your hair, ruining your styled coif, tilting your head back so his lips can ghost over yours, teasing but not giving. "Now be quiet," he warns, "unless you want everyone to hear how much of a slut I made outta you."

"Joel!" you gasp as he fucks into you from behind, each thrust punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips.

"That's it, take it," he growls, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto him with every brutal push, the lewd slap of skin echoing off the tiles. "Gonna fill this pretty cunt up so good they'll smell me on you when you walk outta here-"

"Joel!" you whisper harshly as the restroom door opens. He twitches inside you as he stills, your bodies locked in place as the person stumbles to a urinal. Joel bites down on a groan, keeping you pinned to the wall. "Don't fucking move," he whispers. Despite his warning to you, he does move. A slow, torturous roll of his hips has him grinding deeper instead of pulling out, your shared whimpers muffled by the sink running, the unknown interloper now washing their hands. You bite your lip so hard you taste copper as Joel grinds into you.

"Stop," you hiss as quietly as you can.

"It's just gettin' good," Joel whispers. He grabs hold of your hips and starts quick thrusts, his hand clamping over your mouth to stifle your moans, but the unmistakable sound of fucking is still heard, echoing. All you can think about is the way his cock is plunging perfectly inside you, hitting the spot no one else has ever been able to find, fucking you with the precision that makes you fall apart so easily.

Joel pulls back to watch your ass bounce with each thrust, the perfect ripples across your plush curves. Nothing in this world could make him harder, nothing else could make him want to ruin his life. "Feel me deep inside?" he growls. "That's where I belong," he says with a particularly sharp thrust that has you coming, muffling your moans with your palm. Joel speeds up, chasing his release, at last spilling into you fast and deep, forehead resting against the nape of your neck.

"Am I only gonna get to fuck you at weddings now?" he murmurs, voice gravelly with satisfaction. He gives one more emphatic thrust and your moan vibrates against his palm. As much as he doesn't want to let go, he slowly pulls out of you, helping you clean up.

"Not funny," you whisper, barely coming down from your high. "We can't do this again.." A small groan leaves your throat as he disengages, leaving you clenching around nothing. "We're crazy.." You shake your head, forehead touching the tiles as Joel takes care of the mess he made in you.

“I’d take crazy with you any day,” Joel murmurs, his voice rough but affectionate. “Even if it means the risk of getting caught in a compromising position in a public restroom.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “Fate is always listening.”

“You and your superstitions,” he teases. “If Fate’s listening, then Fate better not cockblock me.” He gives a gentle squeeze on your hip, as if to soothe the doubts you're having."Stay here, all right? I'll see if the coast's clear."

You don't know what you're doing. It's the first time you've seen him in twenty years and you can't ignore the frisson of want that strikes through you. Despite all these years apart you know you'd do anything he asks. You're that far gone for him.

You nod and he kisses your forehead before slipping out of the stall and running right into your husband.

"Uh, Joel?" your husband says. "Your wife is looking for you." His eyes flick to the restroom stall where you're hidden out of sight.

Your slick is drying on his softening cock and it's all he can do to keep a straight face. "Thanks. Hey if you see your wife tell her I'm lookin' for her. We've got a lot to catch up on." He claps Aaron hard on the shoulder and leads him out of the men's room. "You're a lucky man, my friend."