Gabriella
Ella stared out of the window as Simon drove them to school. The tree lined route he took whenever they had to make up for lost time looked grey and gloomy from this morning's drizzle. Everything felt grey and gloomy. He'd broken up with her as soon as her mother had left for work. She apologized for the so-called rude comments she'd made to her mother but Simon insisted they were through.
The first time she kissed him, he pushed her away. The second time she kissed him they ended up making love. That was his way, always contradicting his words. But he hadn't uttered one since they'd rushed out of the house. Part of her loved not knowing what came next with Simon as much as she hated it.
"I had a dream about you last night," she confessed, desperate to end the silence. "Want to hear it?"
He sighed. "No, Gabriella, I don't."
"Why not?" She'd hoped everything between was okay again but his tone said different.
"Because I don't."
Ella ignored him. "We were living in England together, in some trendy little flat. We owned some tiny corner bookstore and sat around drinking wine and stuff with these cool English friends. And you—"
"Gabriella, stop."
"—wanted to have a kid and we—"
"Gabriella! Stop."
Ella looked at him. A sick feeling washed over her.
"Get this image of a future with me out of your head. Do you understand that it's never going to happen? Ever."
"But—"
"There is no 'but', Gabriella. I'm married to your mother. Goddamn it! Don't you get that? Does it not matter to you? She's your mom, does that not fucking resonate with you at all? Don't you feel even a little guilty?"
"Yeah, sometimes I do. I mean, my mom...I don't know, I just don't think you two make a good couple. She doesn't get you the way I do. I think you and I make a better couple."
"You and I
aren't
a couple."
"Sure feels that way when you make love to me."
"Gabriella, what you and I do isn't making love." That stung. Ella looked away and pretended to pick lint from her pants.
"Oh, that's right. You make love to her and you fuck me. But did you ever stop to think that maybe she doesn't care about you as much as I do?"
"And why would you say that?"
"Because I'll let you do anything. I
have
let you do anything. And maybe I do that because I care more than her."
Simon chuckled then sighed. "Gabriella, don't confuse sex with love. They aren't the same thing."
"I know that."
"Well, then
know
that I love your mother. I love Patricia with all my heart despite how I've wronged her. I'm married to her. Plain and simple."
"You sure don't
act
very married," she muttered, knowing it would get a rise out of him.
A few seconds later she felt the car slow down as he veered off the side of the road and parked. She stared at his profile while he just looked ahead through the windshield.
"You're right," he stated. And those were the last words Simon spoke. It wasn't the first time he had ignored her, but it always hurt when he did.
**********
Patricia
Patricia still couldn't believe the big day had come. She'd officially turned forty. Her morning began with breakfast in bed and a birthday card courtesy of Simon. Although his cooking lacked...well, taste, it was definitely the thought that counted. And the card had been beautiful, listing forty reasons why she was the most special person to him, with reason number one being:
Because no matter how dark the night, you bring light to my world.
Patricia glanced over the list at least three times that morning, tearing up with each read. For years she had resigned herself to believe she would only be a mother and not much else. She more than likely would never be married or find a man who'd love her the way she imagined love was supposed to feel. Some days, she still believed it couldn't be real. Life taught her that happiness was easily pulled away, a lesson her mother had reminded her of at a young age.
She had come home from school one afternoon, to find her mother sitting at the kitchen table crying. At the time, she had only been seven, but was used to her mother's frequent sobs.
Patricia had just painted a picture of her mom and hoped the gift would brighten her day. She handed it to her, proud of her accomplishment. But her mother only glanced at it, before she set it aside.
She turned to Patricia and said, "Life's a bitch and then you die. It's not even worth the time to get up in the morning."
No matter how much she tried to shake those words, they stuck with her throughout her life. But she was determined to prove her mother wrong. That life
was
worth something, even if it didn't always go as planned.
"Will you still love me even though I'm old?" she had asked Simon after she shoved down as much burnt food as she could stand.
"You act like forty is one foot in the grave, babe."
She pouted. "I feel like it." He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her in close.
"Come here crazy woman." He wrapped his arms around her. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? Seriously, do you know how many hot women over forty there are? Want me to start naming my 'if I got a pass' in Hollywood list?"
"Might make me feel better." At the moment life was great and she should be thankful for another year on earth but the lump in her stomach persisted.
"Okay. Elizabeth Hurley, Kenya Moore—"
"Kenya is not forty, I don't think."
"Well, whatever, she's on my list. Elle Macpherson, Salma Hayek and let's not forget my top, along with half the men I know, Halle Berry, so there. Want me to keep naming?"
Patricia laughed. "No, no, I get your point. Thank you. I needed that." He leaned down to kiss her and she held his bottom lip between her teeth.
"Oh, so you want an early birthday present, huh?" he asked, his voice deep and husky. Patricia nodded and slowly slid her top over her head in a teasing manner.
"Fuck me," he muttered, his eyes scanning over her chest.
Patricia giggled. "Like what you see?"
"Hell yes. Want me to show you how much I like?" He kneeled between her legs and slowly slid her panties off. Simon moved back on the bed and smiled devilishly before he pulled the covers over his head. Patricia waited in anticipation as she watched the adorable lump in the sheets crawl further up while his lips caressed her legs.
She leaned back in the bed when she felt the warmth of his breath hovering right above already wet pussy. She gripped the pillows beside her when she felt his tongue flick her sensitive bud. And after a few seconds of teasing her, his mouth latched on and she felt her legs tremble almost instantly.
"Simon," she whimpered.
***
Patricia shook herself from the steamy moment earlier that morning to look at the faces staring at her around the table. If she had fairer skin, they would have noticed the deep blush across her cheeks as she thanked God they couldn't read her mind. But she had a feeling Simon could by the knowing smile he flashed at her.
It had been a while since their friends had gathered at their home. The dining room had sprung to life with candlelight and a lavish arrangement of pink roses—Patricia's favorite and instead of relying on his false sense of culinary skills, Simon had hired a caterer. Despite the rough start, the dinner party had turned out great.
Patricia grinned as he stood and cleared his throat. He tipped is champagne glass towards her and smiled.
"Here's to forty, though you don't look a day over twenty-five. Happy birthday honey and I love you." He leaned down to kiss her as applause sounded around the table.
"Thank you," she whispered to him, when he sat down.
Everyone waited on her to give a speech, something she always dreaded doing. "Thank you all so much for coming, I really appreciate it. And thanks for no 'over the hill signs'." Everyone laughed.
"I had one in the car, but Simon threatened bodily harmed if I brought it in," Steven Ashbury said. He was Simon's rake of a best friend. Patricia never knew what to make of him, but he and Simon had known each other since college.
"Good looking out, baby." Patricia leaned over and kissed him again.
"Anytime," he said, giving her a seductive smile.
"Aww, isn't he sweet. Someone's getting laid tonight," Steven mumbled before taking a sip of champagne. But he choked when Simon punched him in the arm.
"Hey, I meant that as a compliment," Steven said, wiping up the mess.
Patricia playfully rolled her eyes at him and looked down the table where her daughter sat. Ella had her elbow on the table with her chin resting in her hand. Her eyes, which were fixed on her plate, didn't hold the same brightness they once did.
Patricia wondered if Ella was still upset about the argument the three of them had about an hour before everyone showed up. An argument that had stemmed from her choice in wardrobe.
