6. Midnight Talk

6: Midnight Talk

I blinked a little, rewinding her words in my head over and over again. My eyes went to the kitchen clock that made me impatient with its ticking, it was after midnight. When I looked back at Angelo, he was watching me, analyzing my reaction.

"Was your wife the woman on that connected stretcher?" I repeated as if I had misunderstood.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation or hesitation even a bit.

I stayed dry.

The teapot started to scream, he got up taking two cups from the shelf, preparing the teas, I got up and then walked over to one side of him looking at him confused.

"What happened?" I asked "I mean, if I can know."

He gave me the tea and then let out an exhausting sigh, leaning against the counter while his eyes wandered beyond the kitchen window.

"We got married when we finished university," he began to say, "that same year he was diagnosed with lupus, since then he has only gotten worse...

I analyzed what he told me, I couldn't believe that someone like him had really gone through that... or rather, he was still going through this.

"Oh." I murmured, playing with the hot cup in my hands.

"I'm the only thing she has," he continued, "her parents died in a traffic accident when she was little, her grandmother died 9 years ago, since then, I've taken care of her."

I wouldn't have imagined in a million years that Angelo would take care of a sick woman, I mean, I knew the version of him being a jerk, a jerk and a womanizer, not the other part; the weak

"Did they never have children?" I dared to ask.

He shook his head, brought the cup to his lip and took a light sip, I almost imagined it as whiskey.

"There were two times that she managed to get pregnant" she explained, "she lost them both in the first months, then her health worsened, now she is only in a bed, the only place we go out together is to the hospital and then back home, It's like they're just waiting for her to pass away, so I'd rather have her here at home."

He felt a lump in his throat and stomach.

"Oh." I said in a low voice.

He looked at me and stretched his lips into a wry smile.

"You seem very surprised." He commented.

"To be honest," I looked at him, "I thought you were a womanizing man who slept with any whore on the street while he was married."

Angelo chuckled lightly and said:

"Not with just anyone, you would be calling yourself a whore."

I took a deep breath, that was true.

"I remember when we argued and you fucked the cleaner," I commented, "rest in peace."

He lowered his head, his smile fading.

"I was very angry, frustrated, especially because I didn't understand my feelings for you." He admitted after a moment.

"You always made it clear that you had no feelings for me," I replied, "and that ours was nothing more than sex."

A long pause where neither of them said anything, the ticking of the clock continuing its hateful noise.

"Everything at that moment was not right," said Angelo, "and when in the end I didn't want to lose you, it was too late, you didn't leave me any options, you just left."

"And what were you planning to do, Angelo?" I looked at him, "you had a wife who only depended on you, sick, would you have brought me to live with her and her baby?"

He thought about it for a moment.

"I don't know what I would have done," he said, "but I wouldn't have left you."

"Everything was difficult at that time." I admitted.

"Complicated between us," he emphasized, "but we didn't have to make it complicated for the baby."

My throat felt dry again, because he was right as much as I hated to admit it.

"Well, time has passed," I said, "there's nothing to do now."

I drank my tea and made a slight face, it lacked sugar, but I didn't want to keep asking him for things.

"I want to meet him." said Angelo, I almost choked on the tea.

"Uhm..."

"He's my son." He interrupted me.

I took a deep, somewhat hesitant breath.

"He doesn't even have your last name." I highlighted.

"You gave him the name by which you knew me," he said, "isn't that enough?"

I felt like I had swallowed all the words.

"Maybe," I said, knowing that I wouldn't let the topic die, "but we still have a crazy woman on the loose, a mission to complete and hopefully see William again."

"Years haven't passed for you." He said.

I squinted at him.

"What are you talking about?"

He looked at me, his gaze deepening into mine.

"You're still..." she murmured, "as beautiful as the first time."

He took a step towards me, in the dim light the environment felt more intimate, my nipples hardened when I saw how he licked his lips, I placed a hand on his chest to stop him, feeling how firm he was under that flannel, if I could regulate my breathing.

"I... this is inappropriate, here is your wife." I said.

Even though his wife was in a bed about to die and her privacy was probably zero, I felt guilty for crossing that line. But my body reacted differently, it felt hotter than a moment ago.

"Believe me I know." He responded, his voice dropping an octave.

"Then you know this is not correct." I whispered.

"It's never been right, Celeste," he replied. "I'm seeing how your body reacts to me, how your breathing is labored, do you really not want to relive what we experienced?"

I hesitated because I didn't know what I wanted at this moment, my mind was in disarray, but my body knew what it wanted, so much time without sex was already beginning to take its toll on me. When he leaned towards me I didn't stop him, then his lips touched mine.