To The One I Love Ch 02

Hello all, and thank you all for feedback on the first part of this story.

It was my first attempt at writing. My apologies for the delay, but three medical issues (one was a major one) as well as a financial matter has delayed part 2. Here is the second part. It will be longer, but I hope it will be worth it. Feedback is appreciated as I am working on a sort of fictional autobiography with a main character that is much less emotional and very vicious. It is based on someone I used to know back home. Please note, I had been contacted by two people wanting to edit for me. Neither one came through.

This is fiction. None of the characters are real. All are over 18.

Enjoy GS

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Allison, you are the love of my life and the reason I exist. That being said, I cannot bring myself to share you. The simple thought of you touching someone else the way you touched him destroys me.

That being said, I love you too much to deny you your happiness. Therefore, I am removing myself from the equation. One and one should only ever make two, never three. You and Richard were together before I ever came into your life. You were happy with him once, but he did something stupid. Now he's back, back in your life and back in your heart. I hope he treats you better this time around. I won't be around to pick up the pieces and put you back together this time.

I am going now. Going somewhere no one can reach me, where I can find peace and maybe find a way to be whole again. I will miss you for eternity. Don't worry about a divorce; my attorney will be in touch with you soon. I made sure you will be provided for.

Love for Eternity,

Michael

As I read Michael's letter, I felt tears on my cheeks and my hands go numb. I kept thinking how had I been so foolish and hurtful. How had I pushed my beautiful husband away? As I started to shake off the cobwebs, I recognized the voice of Barbara, Michael's aunt, screaming "YOU STUPID BITCH!!" Then I saw her fist coming towards my face, then nothing.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

At first all I saw was darkness, then gradually I realized that I could only see through my right eye. There was obviously a bandage covering my left eye and my face was swollen. Barbara was a strong and powerful woman, plus she is Sicilian, just like Michael. It was not like Barbara at all the call anyone names, especially me. She is the one who put Michael and I together in the first place. I will forever be in her debt for that. Michael is the love of my life.

WAIT! MICHAEL! He left me a letter.

As my mind cleared I started to remember the letter. Michael said he was leaving me. He wrote so many things and now they came flooding back.

My name is Allison Saks and Michael is my husband.

Barbara had introduced me to Michael at the hospital's annual charity gala. She had been telling me all about her only nephew. Michael's father (Barbara's brother) and mother had passed when he was 16 years old and she had stepped in to raise him. She was so proud of him.

Michael had graduated from Princeton with an MBA and had taken the New York City real estate world by storm. His devilish good looks, outgoing manner and Sicilian stubbornness made him more successful by 30 than most agents had at 60. He specialized in commercial storefronts and he made seven figures every year.

I am a cardio thoracic surgeon and happen to be one of the best in my field. I have studied and trained for years and years. I always thought being a doctor was my purpose in life. Until I met Michael.

I had heard stories from some of the nurses about Barbara's gorgeous nephew. How he was a skirt chaser with olive skin and green eyes. How he had dated models and beautiful women, and believe me, NYC is full of beautiful women.

By the stories you would think Michael had dated them all and left them a pile of mush. When we were introduced by Barbara, all I could feel was magic. I had never seen such a beautiful man with eyes so deep. He seemed mesmerized by me, why I could never understand, and he had to be brought back to us by his aunt. We spoke for a few minutes and danced a few songs.

During one short conversation, I told him that I had heard about his reputation and had no intention of letting him have his way. He looked deep in my eyes and said "tonight you changed my whole life. I want to marry you and have children and grow old with you". My first thought was "holy shit, he is really good."

"you must say that to all your playthings."

He replied "I have never said that in my life, ever."

I forced myself to mingle with other people and even danced with some of the older board members and trustees. Michael was never very far from me.

Towards the end of the night Michael walked me out and hailed me a cab, asking "can I call you tomorrow?"

I told him I would be busy with surgeries the next few weeks but gave him my office number. As my cab drove away from him I could feel my heart tightening and my panties getting very wet. This man was dangerous. I could not go through this again.

"Again" you ask? Yes, again. In my 32 years of life I had had three boyfriends and one fiancé. His name was Richard James Nichols. We were introduced by my mother when I was twenty four and doing my residency at Johns Hopkins University.

He was older than me by eight years and was also a doctor in private practice. He knew how to build me up with praise and emotion, but could also tear me apart with his words and by feeding my doubts about myself.

We had been dating for two years when he proposed. I said yes and we started making plans. The date was set, the venue booked and the honeymoon chosen.

Then my father died and I was devastated. I cried for weeks, heartbroken. My father was only 54 years old. He was my driving force and my closest friend. Now he was gone.

I told Richard I wanted to delay the wedding 6 months so I could mourn my father. We argued for weeks until he finally agreed. Six weeks before the wedding I stopped by Richard's office just past closing. The door was unlocked and the only light was coming from an exam room. As I approached it, I could hear the familiar grunts of Richard orgasming. I threw open the door and found him just pulling out of his 22-year-old receptionist. I took off his engagement ring and threw it at her and said "you can have him and this!" then ran out of his office as he called out for me to wait.

Of course, when I went to see my mother, she tried to smooth things over. Richard showed up and the argument started. My mother tried to explain that one mistake wasn't something to throw away a good future for. At the same time I could hear my father saying "once a cheater, always a cheater. If he can't respect you now, how will he respect you in the future".

My Father was dead and now my fiancé was a cheater. There was just too much pain for me in Baltimore.

I applied for positions in New York, L.A. and Boston. I was offered a position at Presbyterian hospital in New York City. After 4 long years of making a name for myself in cardiology, I was offered an open position at Mount Sinai Medical center. That is where I met Barbara and by extension, my husband Michael.

Michael was determined to get into my panties, or so I thought. Every day for seventeen days he called or texted me. Every day he sent flowers. Roses, lilies, tulips and more. He tried everything but nothing was working. And then, one afternoon as I was leaving the hospital, I saw him in the lobby. He begged me for five minutes of my time.

We went over to the coffee shop and sat. He pulled out a small jewelry box from Tiffany's and opened it. Inside was a perfect two carat diamond engagement ring. I was stunned. All Michael said was "go out with me three times over the next three months and regardless of what happens you can keep this ring".

I couldn't believe this. He barely knew me and he proposed to me. To make a long story short, we went out the next evening, and the night after that and over the next three months we went on 67 dates. I was absolutely out of my mind for this man.

We went to the Met, we went to the statue of liberty, Yankee Stadium, little Italy, Chinatown, and everywhere in between. After our ninth date, we went back to his condo at 47th and Madison Ave. I was floored at how simple and tasteful it was. Not what I expected from a bachelor. NO, we did not have sex. What we did was the purest form of making love. Love I never knew could exist.

At the end of the three months Michael went down on his knee and pulled out the same Tiffany's box and proposed. I accepted. Plans were made.

Some of my friends gave me a bachelorette party and we went to a ritzy, trendy bar for a few drinks. As we were laughing and toasting a beautiful brunette approached me. She was about five foot ten inches tall, long black hair, deep blue eyes and a body that could stop a train. She introduced herself as Veronica. I recognized her as a model from some of the magazines the nurses at work read, and then she asked about Michael.

It turns out she was dating him when we met at the Gala. I knew there was no way I could compare and all my pain from the past and all new fears came to my mind all at once.

The night before the wedding I went to our condo and cried on Michael's shoulder and told him everything. All about my father's death and being cheated on and meeting Victoria. As I cried, he held me so tight and so close we were like one body, but it wasn't until he told me that I held the one thing, had that no one else ever did, his heart.

I kissed him like never before and then he carried me off to the bedroom.

No, no sex. He told me the next day was the day he waited for to fulfill my dreams. And it was. 120 friends, family and business partners were there to hear us take our vows. Even distant family of Michael's was there. He flew them in from Palermo.

The next two and a half years were a dream. We worked and we played. We traveled, we made love and we fucked. WOW! Did we ever fuck? Life was perfect, and then it wasn't.

My mother had died and we went back to Baltimore for the funeral. I hated going back there. All my pain was there.

My father's, and now my mother's deaths and my cheating former fiancé. Of course, Richard was there, with his new wife. She was older than me but younger than Richard. I pointed him out to Michael. Michael's face went dark and I knew he hated Richard for hurting me.

When Michael loved, he loved hard. When he hated, he hated even harder. Seeing Richard there and my mother dying changed something in me. Michael noticed it right away. I became closed off to him, even after we went home. I know now I should have seen a therapist, but I did not.

Not even six months later, Richard was sitting in my office. He needed a heart transplant. He knew it in Baltimore at the funeral but didn't want to bring it up. He was here to ask me to help as I was part of the cardiac team at Mount Sinai Medical center. This was the third week in February. I told him I would think about it and talk to Michael.

Richard told me "I never stopped loving you. If what we had meant anything to you, you'll do this for me".

I had Michael meet me at our favorite Italian restaurant. I explained my dilemma. He was not happy, especially when I told him what Richard had said, but ultimately, he left the decision to me

All Michael said was "I trust you completely."

Of course, I took Richard's case and that's where my life fell apart. By mid-march Richard had been admitted to my wing and I started visiting daily. And every day he was reminding me how good we were, how much I meant to him and how he loved me.

The man knew how to push my buttons. The more time I spent with him, the further I moved from Michael. Michael had been tied up in negotiations on property near the freedom tower. The payoff would be very high six figures.

Yes, I forgot all about Michael's birthday. It landed on the day Richard started taking a turn for the worst. I was at the hospital until after midnight and didn't realize it until 2 days later. I was too embarrassed to say anything. Really, what kind of wife forgets her husband's birthday? I vowed to myself to make it up on our anniversary in just a few weeks.

Michael kept trying to talk to me and I kept pushing him away. On our anniversary I told myself.

Over the next 5 weeks our marriage suffered from my silence and from Michael always wanting to talk.

The day of our anniversary came around and as I was getting ready to leave for home I was told Richard was getting worse and would most likely die if he didn't get a heart very soon. I went to see him with sorrow in my heart, knowing the man I once loved would most likely die.

When he saw me, he asked me to lie down next to him. As we cried, I remembered all our times together. He kissed me softly and I kissed him back. All my old feelings started coming back and when he pulled my hand to his penis I didn't pull away. I should have, but didn't.

I massaged him and stroked him and truthfully, Michael was nowhere in my mind. I stayed with him all night. I had fallen asleep in his arms.

All of a sudden there was a mad rush of activity, a heart had been found for Richard. It was now morning. I was overjoyed at being told the news and then the transplant nurse came in, looked at me strangely, and took Richard away for the transplant.

As I was walking towards the locker rooms, I passed the nurses station and one of the nurses gave me Michael's letter. Oh Shit! Michael! Our anniversary! It's going to take a lot of explaining and ass kissing on this one, but he loves me and I'm sure will forgive me.

I opened his letter and my world was rocked. Not only had I forgotten his birthday and our anniversary but he saw me with Richard, STROKING HIM! He was leaving me! Not standing in my way? That brings us back to the start, waking up from Barbara punching the shit out of me.

As I was sitting up on the gurney and disconnecting myself from the monitors, William Everson, our chief of cardiology came into the room looking like death warmed up. I immediately told him I did not want to file any charges against Barbara.

He looked at me and said "that's not what I'm here about."

"As you know, Richard Nichols received a transplant from a donor. The donor passed away less than 3 hours ago".

I told him I knew and I thanked God for the donor.

He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said "I don't think you will", he continued, Michael was here this morning to leave something for you. As he left, he stepped out between two parked cars trying to hail a cab".

He paused before continuing, "Michael was hit by a bus. He's dead Allison, he died outside the hospital doors".

Looking at William I was stunned. Not my Michael. "Noooooo" I screamed. "It can't be. It just can't". Michael was dead because of me!

William just grabbed me and held me while continuing "Michael was an organ donor. It's Michael's heart that's going to Richard Nichols".

What happened next was explained to me when I was revived. Apparently, I collapsed right there and went catatonic for 3 days. Barbara had to identify Michael's body and made funeral arrangements for Michael. When he was hit, he had his suitcase with him, a one-way ticket to Palermo and about $10,000 in cash.

When I came out of my shock, it was the day of his funeral. My psychiatrist said I shouldn't go, but neither hell nor high water was going to stop me. When his coffin was lowered into his burial spot, next to his parents, I completely lost it. Michael's family attorney was there and gave me a card and asked me to call when I was able to handle some things.

4 years later:

Here I am, living my life in a small cabin in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. Michael bought this place in January and it was supposed to be an anniversary gift, our last anniversary gift. I met with the lawyers, and in his will, Michael had left Barbara 2.5 million dollars. He left the rest to me. The condo in the city, this cabin and 7 million dollars in cash and stocks.

I am the poorest millionaire in the world. I have lost everything.

After Michael's funeral I never went back to work as I would just start bawling at any given time. I have spent time in Bellevue Psychiatric hospital three times.

I now spend my days trying to work up the nerve to put Michael's 9mm Beretta in my mouth and pull the trigger, hoping I will see him again in the afterlife.

But what stops me is, if I commit suicide, will I be able to be with Michael?

The hell I am in now, with the hope of seeing him again, is probably better than hell with no hope of ever seeing Michael again. Every morning and every night I pray for death.

But my prayers are never answered.

What happened to Richard you may ask? His wife caught him cheating on her again. They argued, he slapped her; she grabbed a chef's knife and stabbed him right in the heart.

Michael's heart. My Heart. Everything of Michael is gone now. And it is completely MY FAULT!

Please GOD, Take me from here and let me see my precious Michael.

The End