A humorless laugh escapes my lips. That’s it, I’m officially losing it. Being in this shitty marriage with this fake life has finally caused me to lose touch with reality. A gentle touch to my arm breaks me free from my hysteria. I turn to face Alex. “Cal, he lied.”

Shaking his head slightly, he says, “About what?”

“About us having kids. It’s not me, it’s him. He’s the one with the fertility issues, not me. He just took the one thing I’ve always wanted and blamed me for not having it.” My heart hurts and a small fire coils in my stomach. I’m crushed and furious at the same time. When we started trying, Grace told me constantly that the most important part of being a woman is being able to carry a child. Especially in my life, what else is there for me to do other than raise kids? I don’t contribute to society in any real way, but I thought having kids would be my way of leaving a mark on this world. I’d be able to raise incredible children that would do something with their lives. They would be more than I ever was, and kind and giving unlike their father. They would be the best part of me and make the world a better place with their achievements. It wouldn’t be about the bottom dollar for them, it would be about making a difference. But that will never happen, and now everyone thinks it’s because of me. In his one comment, he has stripped me bare and made me feel lower than I ever have before.

“Come here, let’s sit down.” He guides me over to the couch and puts his arm around my shoulder in comfort once we’re seated. “I still don’t get it. Why would he lie about that though?”

I huff out a small laugh. “You don’t know Cal and his family very well. Everything rests on public perception and appearances. You saw the way they acted because I took my heels off on the basketball court. They’re ridiculous with this stuff. We had tried to have kids, being told by his mother that it was about time to do so. How we needed to have a child to leave his inheritance to, to carry on the family history. After trying for a while, we went to the doctor. Of course, they thought the problem was me. They tested me for all kinds of issues before turning to Cal. They did a few tests and it was determined that he has fertility issues. His sperm count is so low he’s basically shooting blanks. His mother was mortified. How would it look if her son wasn’t able to have children? That there would be no one to carry on the family name and legacy of greatness and wealth? You would’ve thought Cal had a grotesque deformity with the way she acted. She made the doctor and nurses sign a nondisclosure agreement and threatened me if I told anyone. She said we would just act as if the issue never existed. We wouldn’t acknowledge it and pretend that it was a choice to be childless rather than a medical issue. Until today, we never have talked about it.” I sigh, feeling exhausted and relieved. It feels good to get that burden off of my chest, but I’m mentally drained from the sudden emotional swings I’ve been feeling lately.

“Wow, I don’t really know what to say.” His fingers draw small circles on my shoulder, further relaxing me. “Do they think they’re royalty or some shit?” he mumbles. I appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. There’s not much for you to say. I’m probably just overreacting, but I was really shocked when he said that to the reporter. Especially with the way he was playing up his sadness. Cal doesn’t even like kids.” I shake my head at the thought of actually having a baby with him. I can’t picture him doing anything with a baby. No diaper changes, feedings, late night rocking, nothing. Maybe it’s best that we’re not able to have any. I wouldn’t want to raise a child in the same misery I feel on a daily basis.

“He’s missing out. You’d make some gorgeous babies.” I turn to look at Alex, his honesty catching me off guard. When our eyes lock, I feel it. The connection, the chemistry, the invisible electric current that draws me to him. Our eyes stay locked on each other; his blues to my greens. With our close proximity I know something is about to happen, and it will change everything in my life forever. But at the same time, I’m absolutely helpless to stop it.

His hand comes up slowly to brush a piece of hair behind my ear, his eyes following the movement as he goes. His finger trails down the side of my face and neck before disconnecting from my skin. The loss causing me to feel cold and needy for his touch again. His gaze fixates on my lips and I instinctively lick them. He leans in the smallest amount before stopping, hesitation written all over his face. I’m like a statue, afraid to move for fear of ending whatever is about to happen. The indecision he’s fighting is playing across his features, a war raging within. His eyes break away from my lips and connect with my eyes. I’m not sure what he sees in them, but it pushes him over the edge. He crashes into me, pressing his lips firmly against mine. My breath is stolen away at the same time that I feel like I’m breathing in a new life. He’s attentive, affectionate, and knows exactly what to do with his tongue to drive me completely wild.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek as he slows the kiss down. His tongue traces my lower lip before it makes its way back into my mouth engaging in a slow tango with mine. The heat and passion are almost too much to bare, sending warmth straight to my core and soaking my panties right through. I’m about to wrap my arms around him and pull him in closer when he breaks the connection. His forehead rests against mine with his eyes closed and he drags in each breath. Both of our chests are heaving up and down, trying to regulate our breathing and heartbeat.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry Elizabeth,” he pulls away and what I see crushes me.

Regret.

Standing quickly, he walks to the front of the bus and exits, leaving me alone with my thoughts. After a moment, I go to the window at the side of the bus and look out hoping to see him. He’s standing there, hands on his hips, shaking his head back and forth. I can’t see his face, but the slumped posture tells me he’s tortured. I don’t know if it’s because he’s fighting this indescribable connection between us, or if he really regrets kissing me. I’m not sure what the hell that was or what this means for my future, but I do know that there’s something missing that I’d thought would be there after kissing another man.

Guilt.

I don’t feel guilty in the slightest. Maybe I should, but all I can think about is the taste of Alex’s peppermint gum and the way he felt against my lips. My body is still vibrating with the residual electricity. I know without certainty that Alex has ruined me. Nothing will ever compare to this moment. I’d bet my life on it.

WHEN ALEX COMES back on the bus, Cal is following closely behind him. We lock eyes for the briefest of moments before Cal’s thundering voice breaks the connection.

“What the hell was that, Elizabeth?” He’s mad at me? The nerve of this man is maddening. It’s taking everything in me not to tell him to fuck off.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I’m surprised my voice comes out even and doesn’t give away the true feelings rolling around within me. Hate, betrayal, hurt, emptiness.

Longing.

Longing to be in a relationship with someone who loves me for me, not for the political points he’d gain. Longing to be with a man where I don’t have to worry about every word that comes out of my mouth or every action I do. A man who won’t reprimand me for being myself.

“Why would you run out on me in the middle of an interview? Reporters will eat that shit up with a spoon! The next headline won’t be how I’ll change America, it’ll be about how my wife stormed off set.” Anger radiates off of him, but his is no match for mine. Figures he’d make this about him. As if the reason for why I left never crossed his mind. He’s the most selfish, self centered bastard I’ve ever met in my whole life, further cementing the hate I feel festering and growing each day I’m imprisoned to him.