Moonshot

Life is a series of stupid decisions interrupted by luck.

He couldn’t. Never again, not with anyone else. Nothing would ever, after that moment, compare. Not with her cry, not with her reaction, not with her kiss. A woman shouldn’t be created in such heartbreakingly beautiful combinations. A woman shouldn’t, in fifteen minutes, have the ability to ruin him for life.

Certain loves can’t be fought. The harder you tried, the harder you would be knocked back, over and over again, until it beat you into submission, until your heart caved and body surrendered. Love like that didn’t know the rules of society; it didn’t care about life mistakes. It only knew what must be, and what would happen—no matter what.

First loves were supposed to be flimsy and temperamental. They were supposed to burn bright and fade fast. They weren't supposed to stick. They weren't supposed to eat away at a man's heart, his capacity for life.

Look to the moon when you swing, he instructed. That's what you want. A ball that disappears into it. One that goes to the moon and past. A moonshot.

New York. Tomorrow. He needed more time to prepare. But a lifetime wouldn’t be enough. He’d never be ready to face her again. Not without pulling her into his arms. Not without refusing to ever let her go.

...there was madness in those eyes. Love does that to a person.

I thought women enjoyed affairs. I thought they got sparks of pleasure at the buzz of their phone, thought they ran around with a glow, their world suddenly on fire with new love. I thought they were women with terrible husbands and unhappy lives, an affair the first step in an eventual ending of their marriage. I thought that they were horrible, selfish women. I never thought that I would be one of them. I never thought that I'd be so weak. It turned out being the perfect wife was only easy when there was no temptation, no mistake haunting and overshadowing your marriage.

Fate was funny that way; it had its own way of changing our lives.

Ty.” It was only one word, but a gruff plea that said everything. I lifted my gaze from his lips to his eyes and saw the hurt in them, the miss, the need. Need that I couldn’t step away from. Need that I felt in every part of my body. “Take me somewhere, Chase.

You kiss all your friends?” The corner of his mouth turned up. “When they have a mouth like yours.

...spikes first had been our code. Our mantra in life, the thought that you dove full force into confrontation, damn the repercussions to others, should they be too dumb to move out of the way. Sometimes you made it there safely. Sometimes you didn't, the enormous effort a waste. But if you had the opening, you had to try.

God, I love him. The truth that I’d run from every day of my new life smashed into me like a fastball into a mitt, stinging in its impact, radiating through my bones. I love him.

I was a woman unaccustomed to guilt, and it drowned me - pulling me deeper, cutting off my air supply.

Subdued. Maybe that was what depression dipped in false cheer looked like.

But whatever embers of love I felt for Tobey was nothing compared to my love for Chase. That was a wildfire, burning hot and mad and out of control, eating everything in sight. It consumed my marriage and left only charred black.