A Promise of Passion Read online

  A Promise of

  Passion

  M. E. Nesser

  Copyright © 2016 M. E. Nesser

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1530449308

  ISBN 13: 9781530449309

  For Gail

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  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

  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

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Conclusion

  Introduction

  I walk into my favorite upscale bar on Fifth Avenue, feeling exhausted. I’d just spent twelve hours negotiating a merger with a demanding client, and I wanted to forget about life for a few minutes. I have been a partner at a large corporate law firm with over two hundred associates for over a decade. I always wanted to be an attorney, and I was lucky to join this firm right out of law school. Being a partner definitely has its perks, but “perky” is definitely not an adjective that would describe how I’m feeling at the moment.

  “Overwhelmed” or “exhausted,” on the other hand—those would work. Or, even more importantly: “lonely.” At the tender age of forty-five, the love of my life has left me. I am heartbroken.

  Bryce and I had a twenty-seven year romance that would make you turn multiple shades of green with envy; I’ve had feelings for him since my junior year of high school, although I never had the nerve to talk to him. When we finally met and got to know one another, it was obvious that we were destined to be together. Our senior year of high school was magical. That was the year we fell in love.

  Our personal journey was full of passion and joy, and our professional lives were full of financial success. I should have known it wouldn’t last forever. Sometimes I think I was being selfish or unrealistic to expect that something so good would last a lifetime. I just never expected him to leave like he did.

  It’s hard not to smile when I think about how amazing our journey was. We have both been so blessed; we’ve gotten what we wanted out of life. Bryce excelled in math and always loved numbers, so he became a CPA, just like he’d dreamed of. He had always wanted to go to Georgetown for his undergraduate studies, and everyone was so proud of him when he got in—especially me. When he graduated from college, he got into his first choice of grad schools. That made it possible for us to live together. The demands of school were much less daunting with Bryce by my side. During graduate school, he was lucky enough to get an internship with an accounting firm in New York City. His goal was to live in the city, and he worked really hard during the internship to prove himself. When he graduated, offers came in from accounting firms all over the country, but he had secured the job that he wanted in the city that he loved. Now II was more determined than ever to make all of his personal dreams come true as well.

  When I finished law school, I was also approached by a handful of law firms. At this point in our relationship, we were talking about getting married as soon as we were both working in the same city. I was fortunate enough to land a job at Stryder, Ross & Burton. The firm had an excellent reputation, and I was thrilled at the opportunity to secure a position with them. And it was located in New York City.

  Standing just over six feet, Bryce was my Christian Grey. His dark, wavy hair had a perpetual “just-fucked” look that I couldn’t resist, especially in contrast with his light blue eyes. I never tired of gazing into those beauties—they reminded me of the ocean. His long, dark lashes curled at the ends. The best part of looking into his eyes, however, was the love I always saw there. I miss that feeling of being adored and loved unconditionally.

  Bryce hated combing his hair, so it always looked messy. When I think back about all of our years together, I’m surprised that Bryce had any hair left on his head. I loved playing with his hair, and when our relationship progressed to the next level and we started sleeping together, I used to pull on it during sex. Our lovemaking is one of the things I miss the most about Bryce. No one could make me feel the way he did in bed. I slept with a handful of men during our hiatus that first year of college to see what I was missing, and there was never another man who measured up.

  And boy did my man measure up. The first time we slept together, I remember being scared that he wouldn’t be able to fit his penis inside of me, or that it was going to hurt really badly. Even though I was anxious to make love with him, he was so big that I was afraid he was going to break something in me. Between the length, the girth, and the ominous veins that ran down the length of his shaft, I couldn’t help but be intimidated. But our emotional connection was so strong; I knew he would never hurt me and that we would figure out how to make it work.

  I remember being confused by the dichotomy of feelings I felt when we were about to take our relationship to that next level. It was overwhelming, exciting, and terrifying at the same time. You never forget that first time you make love with someone, but our first time was magical, maybe because we were both virgins. It was also terrifying, maybe because we were both virgins.

  Life was idyllic for many years. We both had very demanding jobs, but we worked hard, played hard, and fucked even harder. And now it’s over. I just can’t believe it. It happened so suddenly, and I have never felt this sad in my entire life.

  My devastation has been indescribable. We had gotten to the point in our lives where we could afford to travel and take more time for each other. We were having such a blast that I still can’t believe it has come to an end. It feels like someone ripped my heart out and poured arsenic into every fiber of my body. After Bryce left, I had to take a leave of absence for over a month. I couldn’t function. I was paralyzed by grief.

  It has been twelve months, seven days, and eleven hours since Bryce abandoned me. I have this driving compulsion to check the date and time whenever he comes to my mind—which is all of the time. The sadness and grief is constant, but I have tried to push through it by working. My days are long, and I push myself to exhaustion. But that means nothing, because my nights are even longer. I sit by the fire drinking red wine, petting our cat, and crying. Who knew that I could cry for hours on end and never run out of tears? I don’t know where they keep coming from. I keep
the fire going all the time, because I always feel so cold. It’s like there’s ice running through my veins. I’m sure it has something to do with my lack of sleep and nutrition. I just can’t seem to warm up. I’m always so fucking cold.

  Sleep is something that has eluded me ever since he left me. Our bed is too big and too empty. I sleep on the couch—sometimes I have a hard time even walking into our bedroom. I have a woman who comes in once a week to do laundry and clean for me. She changes my sheets every week even though she knows I don’t sleep in them. That makes me cry, too.

  I’ve tried spending more time at the gym before work, but I’m so exhausted that it is impossible for me to run as hard and as long on the treadmill as I used to. Whenever I try exercising after work, I am too weak and too dizzy to get anything accomplished. I’m a walking corpse, just going through the motions. I know that I look like shit. I’m thin. I’ve got dark circles under my eyes. Smiling is such an effort.

  Even though I have two paralegals working for me, I’m feeling completely overwhelmed at my job. It isn’t the work, exactly; it’s just everything. I am an excellent attorney and can do the work in my sleep—or at least I could. The problem is that I’m not even sure I want to practice law anymore. I actually have no idea what I want to do or who I want to be. I’m not really Mrs. Collins anymore, so who the fuck am I?

  One of my greatest struggles is my desperate need to be touched. When you get used to being touched all of the time, and in such loving, passionate, and intense ways, it’s tough to live without that. So I’m sitting here sipping on a gin and tonic, remembering how it all began. Memories are all I seem to have these days.

  1

  It was an AP physics class that changed my life forever. We were assigned lab partners, and I could hardly believe my luck: I was paired up with Bryce Collins. Bryce was a varsity squash player who had won a plethora of state championships in the sport; I was the luckiest girl in the world—or at least I felt like it. I had been admiring him for over a year, and now my secret crush was going to be my partner in a science class. I would be remiss, however, if I didn’t admit that the thought of spending one-on-one time with him also scared the living shit out of me. I didn’t have much experience with boys, and I was completely enamored of this one. I was seriously freaking out.

  Bryce’s unruly dark hair and light blue eyes made him look exotic. He was already six feet tall. I was only five feet four, so he seemed even bigger when he stood next to me. Although he was fairly muscular, he was pretty slender from the constant running required in a game of squash. He looked a model, I thought. He was just so beautiful. I fantasized about him on a regular basis.

  And now he was going to be my lab partner. When Mrs. Cotler announced that Collins and Donovan were going to be partnered, I thought I was going to combust. I was excited—and anxious. I was so worried that I was going to do or say something embarrassing. I knew that I was smart, but not in science. What if he didn’t want to be my partner? What if he begged Mrs. Cotler to work with someone else? I would—totally and completely—die of shame. I had to keep my cool and not do anything ridiculous. I can’t remember ever being as nervous as I was that first day we were supposed to work together.

  Once I knew we’d be spending time together, he was all I could think about. I hated the fact that he never seemed to notice me. I would create scenarios in my head about ways we would be forced to be near each other. During a school assembly the first week of classes, I had prayed that he’d have to sit next to me because all of the other seats were taken. The auditorium was so crowded that day that I didn’t even see him. I was crushed.

  Every time he’d walk anywhere remotely nearby and not notice me, it was like my puppy died. It made me weepy every damn time. I walked the long way to calculus every day so I could pass his fourth period class and check out what he was wearing. Whenever he wore his blue Oxford shirt, his eyes sparkled in a way that I knew could make even the most confident girl swoon. If he was half as nice as he was cute, I knew I’d be the happiest girl in the world.

  I swear I saw him at least once a day, but he never looked my way. I had so many bizarre fantasies about him that I felt embarrassed even remembering them. One particular day, when I was wearing a shirt that was lower cut than usual, I went out of my way to run into him in the halls. I secretly hoped he would notice my cleavage. If he noticed it, then maybe he would notice how nice my boobs were. My plan was a bust, so to speak: he didn’t even see me walk past him. Later, sitting in calculus, I got lost in a daydream about running past him without a shirt on—because I was saving our peers from a catastrophic fire. I had been in the room where the blaze had started, and my shirt had caught on fire. Since the flames were spreading so quickly, I was forced to run through the halls screaming for everyone to evacuate. Bryce was deeply impressed by my heroism. He could see that I didn’t care about being embarrassed: saving my peers was all that mattered. The fact that I didn’t waste any time covering myself up proved how wonderful I was. Bryce greatly admired my courage—and my boobs.

  The daydream was mortifying now, but it was only one of about a zillion that ran through my head every time I saw him. I could seriously see myself streaking through the school and, in some bizarre way, saving the world. I wanted to be his heroine since I saw him as my hero.

  I knew I wasn’t the only horny teenager having crazy daydreams about boys. What set me apart was that Bryce was the only boy I ever daydreamed about. I went to his local squash matches and watched him play, but I don’t think he ever even knew I was in the audience. I read everything about him in the papers, adding my own embellishments as I went along: “Bryce Collins, boyfriend of Katie Donovan, just won another state title. His loving girlfriend cheered him on as he crushed his opponent by ten points…” I desperately wanted my imaginary headlines to be true.

  After Bryce had transferred to our school, it had been an entire year before this physics class had finally brought us together. Even though we were in the same grade, we never seemed to be in the same classes. It was so frustrating—I wanted as many opportunities to stare at him as possible. It totally sucked, because I don’t even think he noticed that I existed. It was also a shame because I had so many amazing fantasies about stuff happening between us. Being a teenager is so stressful. Sometimes I had a hard time focusing on my studies, because I would be thinking about Bryce. I was consumed with my attraction towards him.

  I used to have elaborate fantasies about our first encounter. I would dream about him pulling me into a corner behind the lockers after gym class. I would be all sweaty: sweat made my sex scenes that much hotter. He would look into my eyes and loose my hair from its gym-class ponytail, running his fingers through my sweaty locks. Suddenly my hair would look like a Wella Shampoo advertisement, and I’d shake it out in slow motion, looking stunningly beautiful—the only time I wasn’t insecure about my looks in high school was when I was daydreaming. First, he would put his big, strong hands on my head and get his fingers tangled in my gorgeous mane of wavy hair. I would look—at the same time—completely angelic and incredibly sexy. He would be overcome with desire. He would gaze deeply into my eyes and whisper into my mouth “you are the most beautiful girl in our high school, and all I want to do is kiss you.”

  Very gently, this strong and perfect specimen of a guy would graze his lips against mine. If a person could blow up with excitement, then watch out world: I was your next atomic bomb. His lips were so soft that I would briefly wonder if he used a special type of moisturizer to keep them so satiny. The moment his skin brushed mine, my entire body would be filled with an abundance of electricity that I didn’t understand, couldn’t explain, and craved with every ounce of my being.

  Then we would start kissing, and I’d get goose bumps all over my sweaty body. He would keep telling me how beautiful I was. As he pulled me against his body to deepen the kiss, I’d feel his erection growing…

  It was always such a bummer when my fantasies were interrupt
ed and I was brought back to reality. I thought about him constantly. There was a part of me that wanted to talk to my best friend Janey about Bryce, but I was too embarrassed to admit how obsessed I was with him. Janey had a boyfriend and a lot more experience than I did. Whenever we’d hang out, I’d lose the nerve to ask her for advice. I knew she wouldn’t mock me out or anything, but it made me uncomfortable to admit how naïve I was. I didn’t know if my obsession was healthy or not, but I didn’t care. I was severely infatuated. Now I finally had the chance to be close to Bryce—and it was in a stupid physics class. I wasn’t very good at science and had only taken the course so I could get college credit for it. If I had my way, I would have opted out of all my science classes and taken business or psych classes instead.

  What I really wanted to do was go to law school, and I didn’t need science classes to go into corporate law. I had wanted to be a lawyer ever since I saw my first episode of Boston Legal. I think I liked that show at first because my family used to vacation in Massachusetts, and I loved it there. I also loved James Spader. He had such a sassy attitude; he was always so confident. I wanted to be a female version of him.

  My dad thought my idea of law school was a bad one. He thought attorneys were crooks and liars, and he hoped I would go to medical school. I think he said crap about attorneys so I would feel guilty and seriously consider medicine. Since he never paid attention to my grades or classes, I don’t think he realized that his precious daughter didn’t like math or science. I knew for a fact that medical schools would laugh in my face if I even applied to them, so I had no intention of doing any such thing. Breaking the news to my father would not be a fun conversation, but I still had four years before I’d even be applying to law school. Fortunately, my mother supported my interest in law and accepted my desire to be an attorney. It was comforting to know that at least she had my back. I’m convinced my dad had selective hearing whenever we discussed college and careers, but one thing he did approve of was where I wanted to go to school. He knew I wanted to go to Yale, and that made him happy.