The Affair: Cristiana's Story Read online

  The Affair

  Cristiana’s Full Story

  Aidèe Jaimes

  The Affair

  by Aidée Jaimes

  Copyright © 2019 by Aidée Jaimes

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  For myself.

  Contents

  I. The Ticket

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  II. The Red Dress

  Quote

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  III. The Other Side

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Other Books by Aidèe Jaimes

  Part I

  The Ticket

  Cristiana

  1

  I need to get out of the house! It has been so cold out lately and we have been stuck indoors for way too long. Winter has been brutal this year here in North Carolina, and today is the first warm day in what feels like months.

  There is finally a break in the clouds, the sun is shining high in the winter sky and over the skeletal pines. The weather channel has promised it would be at least sixty-five degrees today, the perfect day to leave our cave and breathe in the delicious cool air.

  I put on Mia’s white fuzzy coat and pink and white striped leggings. Her dark hair sticks out at her ears and curls at the nape of her neck. She is the most adorable three-year-old ever! Could I possibly think that because she is my daughter?

  It’s Saturday and Owen is at work. I hate it when he works on a weekend. He will do that sometimes to accommodate clients, then he will take a day off during the week. The problem is that the day goes too slow when I’m here by myself, glancing at my kitchen clock so often it seems to count backwards. The house feels darker, heavier somehow.

  I peek through the blinds. There is no one else outside that I can see, the street looking desolate and cold. I hate weekends alone.

  Me: I’m going outside in five.

  I shoot the text to my neighbor and best friend Jess just in case she is home. She lives three houses down to my right and I can’t see her driveway from my window.

  Thinking no one else would see me, no one ever drives down this cul-de-sac, I grab the first pair of skinny jeans I see, black boots and a small black and blue checkered coat. My long hair is up in a haphazard bun, several strands falling around my eyes and ears. I give myself a quick look over at the mirror that hangs in my foyer above a large Bombay table. I don’t look great, absolutely no make-up, but not so bad either. I shrug, good enough!

  Jess is already outside with her three kids. She pulls her two youngest, boys age five and two, in a red Radio Flyer wagon, while her seven-year-old daughter rides her scooter down.

  “What’s happening?” she hollers at me.

  “Thank you, you’re home! I couldn’t stand being in the house another second!” I complain.

  “Me too. I was so bored! Kevin went fishing. His brother asked him last minute, so he says. Thanks for asking us out here.”

  “He didn’t want to take the kids?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please, even if he were willing to, I would be scared to let them go. He can barely take care of himself! Josh, get off your brother!” She commands her five-year-old without missing a beat.

  Jess is my idol. I look up to her and her no-nonsense, nothing gets her down, nothing seems to overwhelm her attitude. She always has her shit together. Three kids, two dogs, a cat and a hamster, and her house is not only impeccable, but she cooks everything from scratch, is a member of the PTA and goes to school part-time.

  All that, and she is still possibly, effortlessly, one of the prettiest girls I have ever met. Blonde perfectly straight hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale porcelain skin, flawless even without make-up. Of course, she would have a body to die for. Tall, not overly large bust, but she makes up for that in spades with the tiniest waist and generous hips and butt that she accentuates with a hot pink pullover and black yoga pants.

  Yes, I am very jealous.

  Her bright blue eyes sparkle, and she shoots me a smile.

  “You got out here fast.”

  “You think? We were all still wearing pajamas when you texted,” she says and I smirk at her. “What?” she asks.

  We play with Mia’s outdoor toys -a cozy coupe, bubbles, sidewalk chalk- for a long while and the day begins to get a little warm, but I can’t take off my jacket because I only have a spaghetti strapped shirt underneath that does little to hide my black bra.

  It’s getting too uncomfortable, beads of sweat rolling down my back, my mouth going dry from thirst.

  “Baby, I think mommy needs to go inside and change,” I tell Mia then turn to Jess and tell her we’ll be right back. I go through the garage, but on the way Mia sees her pink and purple wagon, the one that is meant for pulling dolls, not children, yet somehow she always ends up climbing into it and makes me pull her along.

  “Momma, pull me! Please! Pull me, pull me!” she insists. I sigh, sweat already beading on my brow and upper lip.

  “All right, baby, we will play a few more minutes.”

  “I can take her if you want,” Reilly, the seven-year-old, offers.

  “My Reiyi!” cries out little Daniel and runs to his older sister.

  “It’s okay, Reilly. Thank you for offering. I can do it for a little longer.” If I don’t pass out from heat exhaustion first. We ride down the street a bit and back. Our white two story is at the end of the cul-de-sac, a real blessing being that we don’t have to deal with too much traffic. It sits on a large lot that backs up to the woods, a small creek running through the tall trees. It is our little piece of heaven, everything Owen and I were looking for in a home, porch swing and wooden rocking chairs included.

  We have lived in this neighborhood for almost a year now. I love the house, and I love Jess and her kids. Mia adores Reilly, and for the most part gets along with the boys. With not much family nearby, they are extremely important to us.

  The house diagonally across the street just sold and the new owners have been coming and going since yesterday, but haven’t stopped long enough to say hello, just the occasional hand wave as they drive past, always in a hurry it seems.

  They come outside now and begin loading broken down boxes into a large black truck. It looks a lot like Owen’s black Silverado, but I can’t be sure, I don’t know much about cars. We watch the comings and goings for a minute. It’s a little hard to see them since we are a bit do
wn the hill, though I can see a large man, at least from my line of vision he looks tall, enter the truck and it roars to life.

  “Incoming,” Jess yells to me. It’s our signal to each make sure our little brood is accounted for and within a safe distance from the street. The black truck, I can see now that it’s a Ford F150 Raptor, pulls up to my driveway and stops. We all move forward as the darkly tinted window rolls down.

  Jess is the first one there, with Daniel at her hip. I stop a few feet behind her, holding Mia’s little hand in mine, and crane my neck to see around her tall form. I am rooted to the ground when I see him for the first time.

  It hits me like an atomic bomb, the insane, all-consuming attraction. He is handsome, so so handsome, in that rugged way that I love. Dark hair with just a hint of silver over the ears, dark blue green eyes and a day’s worth of scruff on his cheeks. But there is more to him than that, though I can’t exactly pinpoint what it is.

  “Hi there!” Jess greets. “Are y’all new here?”

  He looks my way, our eyes meeting and locking for a moment. Full lips smile a crooked sort of grin, displaying straight white teeth and long dimples in those scruffy cheeks. I am momentarily caught in his devilishness, and find myself shamelessly taking in every detail, the waves in his messy hair, his thick winged brows, full long lashes and tanned skin, evidence of long hours spent outside.

  A bead of sweat drips down his neck and into his clavicle, and I think, Ooh, I could lick that.

  His smile broadens and then turns his attention back to Jess, releasing me back to my good senses.

  Oh God, no! I think. I can’t have this living so close to me! He is too much. The mere thought of him as my neighbor begins to undo me. My breathing is becoming shallow; my palms begin to sweat and I actually feel lightheaded.

  He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. My folks just moved in. I live in Huntersville, ’bout half an hour or so away.” His voice is low, and his thick southern accent only serves to makes him sexier.

  I am simultaneously disappointed and incredibly relieved. No one other than Owen has ever made me feel this way, and in less than five minutes no less! I didn’t think it was possible. But Owen and I were both single and I could put that nervous energy to good use as I flirted shamelessly. I can’t do that with this man. Pent up sexual energy like that is bad news and just plain dangerous.

  He and Jess go into conversation about something I don’t know, and they lose me. I am still standing there, sweating, holding my little girl by the hand, stupefied. Thankfully, she is not complaining.

  “Nice to meet y’all. My name is Bo,” I hear him say in that deep raspy voice. “Moved up from Louisiana a few years ago.”

  He’s from Louisiana. That’s where that accent is from.

  Bo’s eyes occasionally glance my way. I watch him too. Every time our eyes meet there is a chemical reaction in my brain that completely annihilates all thought, but for him. I am so wound up by his presence.

  I am trembling, I realize, literally shaking in my boots! Suddenly I can’t be around him. It is too hard to breathe. I need an out!

  In the distance, I see his mother moving some things around her driveway. At the risk of seeming rude, I take Mia and race over without so much as a goodbye or a look back. I can’t get away fast enough. I think I would have melted anyway.

  I am still shaking in my too hot boots when I reach our new neighbor.

  “Hey there!” I call out to her. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Cristiana Roberts and this is my daughter Mia.”

  The older woman smiles, her hazel eyes brightening. She’s wearing quite a bit of make-up and jewelry. Large hoop earrings stick out through hair that is puffed out and bleached very yellow, and there is a musky vanilla scent that wafts from her as she waives bright red nails at me.

  “Well hi! Oh my, ain’t she just a livin’ doll!” she drawls, clapping her manicured hands at Mia. “I’m Lydia Jensen.”

  I like her immediately.

  “So what brings you all to Charlotte?”

  “My husband’s work,” she replies. “And my son, Bo, just drove off, he lives nearby. My daughter too. It don’t look it, but we’re gettin’ up there in years. It just seemed right to be closer to the kids.”

  Jessica arrives with her horde of kids in tow, not even a little breathless. She gives me a look, her eyes letting me know just what she thought of my abrupt departure.

  “This is my good friend and neighbor Jessica and her three kids.”

  “So nice to meet you! Welcome to our neck of the woods. What brings you to these here parts…” Jessica and Mrs. Jensen go into an easy conversation, as they both seem to be talkers, but I’m no longer listening. All I can hear is the sound of a big black truck driving away.

  I can finally breathe.

  “Well he was hot.” Jessica states the obvious the second we walk away from Mrs. Jensen. “Not as hot as Owen, mind you, but still…” she whistles. “If I was single…”

  She was right, as handsome as Bo is, Owen is more so. At least in my eyes. Still, it didn’t diminish my attraction to Bo.

  All day I have thought of him. I can’t seem to get him out of my head. My attention is scattered between taking care of Mia, the house, paying bills, and Him. Bo. Handsome too sexy for my own damned good, Bo. Those impossibly deep turquoise eyes, where it’s hard to discern if they are more green or blue. That voice. No one should have that combination of sexy everything.

  Owen comes home early and I am ecstatic. I am desperate for some relief. He plays with Mia while I clean up in the kitchen. I hoped the sound of his voice, the familial setting, would be a good distraction. But I am still restless.

  I have been so worked up all day over Bo, his image popping into my head every five seconds, reigniting that strange flame he started. I am so sexually primed, that the moment Mia goes down for the night I turn to Owen and say, “Go take a shower because you’re fucking me tonight.”

  His green eyes narrow slightly and he cups my ass, pulling me into him.

  “Have you touched yourself today?” he asks.

  “Nope, and I am so horny.” I reach down and stroke him. “I need this inside me.”

  He is gone before I can say anything more. A few chores later I come to the room where he is already waiting, laid out on the bed. I grin at him as I make my way to the bathroom.

  I turn on my iPod and listen to music while I get undressed. I am so in the mood.

  That is until I catch my reflection in the large mirror above the sink and give myself a good long look over, my eyes roving my face, shoulders, breasts, and downwards. I’m pretty, I think. Not the most beautiful woman in the world, but pretty. I have long dark hair, hazel eyes that people seem to fixate upon because of the contrast against my naturally tanned skin. Big breasts, full lips. Owen always tells me I’m sexy. The thought enters my head unheeded, “Would Bo think so too?”

  Probably not. I might be pretty, but I am also tired, the kind of tired that comes from more than three years’ worth of little sleep. Thirty-five is still young, I know, but I have a toddler with no help. There are dark circles under my red eyes that I can’t seem to conceal. My cheeks look somewhat gaunt, the skin on my face not so perfect. No wrinkles yet, but I can see the beginnings of what I am sure will be deep frown lines thanks to my mother’s genes.

  My eyes go further down to my breasts. They look the same as they did before a baby and a year of breastfeeding. They’ve always been large, so perky has never been a description I used for them. And my tummy… not only could that use some toning up, but the long scar left by my cesarean section healed so poorly that one side of it comes up over my underwear line, looking more like a crooked smile than a paper-thin line. No amount of sit-ups will ever fix that.

  My shoulders slump and I look away from the mirror to stop the critical analysis of my body.

  I feel oddly defeated, as though I have already been judged and deemed unworthy. As though it matters what a man that I
may never see again would think of me.

  I can hear Owen typing on his laptop through the door that separates the bedroom from the bathroom and the guilt of wanting another man to find me beautiful and desirable makes me feel even more like a hag.

  “You okay in there? I don’t hear the shower!” he calls out.

  I love him. He is my life. It’s always been that way. The moment I met him fifteen years ago in the bank, I knew with certainty that he was the one. We started out hot and heavy and we haven’t slowed down. Despite our exhausting schedules and child rearing, our sex life is great, adventurous even, within our marriage of course. Owen is an amazing lover, from his kiss down to the way he pulls my hair and the way he bites my neck just hard enough. He knows me, knows my body and how to make me beg for more.

  Attraction to another man is ridiculous. There is no need for it. No room for it in my happily ever after. I have everything I could possibly want and more waiting for me in my own bed. And he is going to fuck me mindless in just a few minutes.

  I push Bo and his damned good looks out of my mind forever.

  2