Shortie: The End of A Love Affair (1)

Rating: R for language and adult situations.


I guess I’ve had enough of J_____.  I’ve been sitting here thinking about things as they used to be and as they are now and it has occurred to me that I’m seeing things a lot more clearly.  Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant and incapable of bullshit.  Be that as it may, I’ve simply had enough.  Yes, I was glad to see that he was all right; that his latest adventure left him no worse for wear.  I will never deny the bond we had, the friendship we’d built, or the love we shared.  I am not that kind of woman.  He meant a lot to me.  But his nonchalance at my pregnancy was the last straw.  He knew what it meant to me to finally be able to conceive; in fact, he’d helped me out a couple of times, but I never caught pregnant.  When he disappeared, I tried to move on with my life and sought out a fertility clinic.  I was successful the second time around, and when he came back, I thought I could count on his full support.  His words to the contrary cut me to the quick.  He just looked at me and tossed off banal congratulations as though he was reading one of the reports we have to submit to our supervisor.  I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.  How could he be so blasé about the most important thing in my life?  I think that was the beginning of the end. 

We weren’t meant to be a couple, and it was something we both understood early on in our relationship.  We’re better as friends; or at least we were.  I guess my hurt feelings were what got me to looking in another direction. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always be J_____’s friend and will help him in any way I can, but it will never again be the way it used to be.  Not anymore.  In the solace of my apartment, I took the time to really think about everything.  By the grace of God, I’d been given a wonderful blessing. I’d wanted a baby for years, ever since my miscarriage and I tried to do it the right way.  But I allowed my career to take precedence, to take over, to nearly consume me as it did him.  One day, I realized that I had to at least try and give myself a chance at an actual life.  Which, for me, included a baby, another job, and maybe even a boyfriend. 

I took my time planning my breakaway.  After I gave birth, I would put in for a transfer and go back to work three months after I had my baby.  There were so many options for a woman with my skills and abilities, but I wanted to make sure that I chose the right path for my baby and me.  I wanted sensible hours, less stress, and weekends off.   J_____ knew something was off.  I didn’t behave any differently, but he has always been a perceptive man and picked up on a vibe or something.  Anyway, he asked me if I was mad at him and I told him I wasn’t.  He didn’t believe me, and I honestly didn’t care.  He kept trying to get me to talk about it, but I absorbed myself in my work and ignored him.  He wasn’t used to that; I’d spoiled him by always giving him my full attention, and when he wasn’t getting it, his petulance showed.

One weekend, about five months into my pregnancy, I did something I hadn’t done in years; lose myself in television.  The glut of sitcoms and reality television had driven me from the idiot box, but for whatever reason, I wanted to indulge in being a pregnant couch potato.  I surrounded myself with snacks and curled up on my couch.  There were a few good mini-marathons running simultaneously, and I alternated back and forth, enjoying doing nothing.  My doorbell rang.  I hadn’t expected anybody to come by; I didn’t have many friends outside of my job at the Bureau, and they really weren’t friends, just acquaintances.  When I made it to the door, I peeked out and saw one of my new colleagues.  He’d been assigned to Violent Crimes about three months ago.  We’d worked together on a few cases, but nothing major.  His name was Kitchi Eastman and everybody called him Kit.  I opened the door, curious as to why he was there.  I guess my shock was evident because I have not given this man any reason to like me, but he seemed to in spite of it.

“Agent Troy?”

“Agent Eastman?”  I was looking at him as if he had grown another head.  I really was surprised to see him standing at my door, casually dressed in black jeans and a heavy black sweater that set off his obsidian eyes and midnight hair.  Kit wore his hair tied in a neat tail, and I’d heard more than one of my colleagues—male and female—wonder aloud what it felt like.

“I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here?”

“You think?” I said, a smile creasing my face.  This was odd, but not entirely unpleasant.  Kit’s handsome.  I moved to bid him entrance, and he came in.

“Have a seat,” I said, and went into the living room with him following behind me.  “I must admit, I am surprised to see you here.”

I resumed my seat on the couch and he sat in the chair.  Kit’s skin was a dark tan, which was a pleasant contrast to his hair and made his smile even brighter.  He looked at me.  “I was wondering how you’re doing.  I didn’t see you come back to the office.”

“Oh,” I said.  “That.”  J______ had actually instigated an argument with me in the cafeteria, questioning my aloofness and how I didn’t seem to care about him or our cases anymore.  I refused to engage him, and he became downright petulant, raising his voice and carrying on like a spoiled child.  I was embarrassed, and in trying to walk away, tripped and fell.  Louis, our supervisor, let me go home for the day.  “Louis was scared I was going to miscarry and let me go home early.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds, Agent Troy, but I really wanted to smack J_____.”

“Call me Zuri,” I said.  “And no, you’re not.  J_____ deserved a punch, not a smack.  But to answer your question, I’m just fine.  The baby’s okay.  My shoulder’s a little sore, but I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Zuri,” he said, as if tasting my name.  “Good.  I was concerned.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m okay.”  I leaned forward and grabbed my bottle of water.  “Care for something to drink?  I was in the middle of a SyFy snake marathon.”

Kit snorted.  “There is nothing quite like a SyFy original movie.  What’s on?”

“Boa vs. Python.”

His expression was one of mild surprise.  I’m sure he wasn’t expecting me to be so courteous, but what the hell.  I could do with some company.  And he was easy on the eyes.  “Do you want something to drink?”

           “No thanks.  I’m fine.”  He eased back into the chair.  I was amused to see him relax; he’d gotten what he presumably came for, but showed no signs of leaving.  I decided not to call him on it.  Instead, I tucked my feet underneath my legs and relaxed on the couch.  A few minutes passed and then my curiosity got the better of me.

“Kit?”

“Yes?”

“Was that all you wanted?”

He looked down for a second, and then back up at me with a smile on his face.  “No.”


                                                       ...to be continued...

A/N:  Kit Eastman is inspired by the gorgeous Jay Tavare.