Of Love, Irony & The Last Laugh (IIIb of IV)

Of Love, Irony & The Last Laugh (IIIb of IV)

Two weeks later, he was standing outside Dunni’s office building, waiting for her to be done with her day. He knew now that she was Dunni Davies, had been for seven years, she had no children and her husband was the consummate philanderer.

He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as it was five, he spotted her coming out of the building. She stopped short in shock when she first saw him, then what he thought was brief longing flashed in her eyes before rage set in as she bristled visibly.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked curtly.

He just stared at her, awash with feelings that had never really left. All he could think was he had missed her. He had missed the dent her body made in his bed. He had missed the way she used to laugh into his mouth when he woke her in the morning with a soft kiss. He had missed the way she used to cook for him, not minding that she had to use less pepper than she normally did because she knew her “Edo baby didn’t like pepper!” He had missed the way she would squeal his name excitedly whenever she picked up his call, it didn’t matter that he had just left her minutes ago. He had missed everything about her, everything. He missed….God, he’d missed her.

“I…I…just…” He tried to say something but words failed him. All he wanted to do was just take her in his arms and never let go. He wanted so badly to just reach out and touch her but he knew that wouldn’t go over well at all.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked, getting agitated.

“I…was looking for you.”

“You better get lost before I harm you!” She told him as she moved past him to her car. He grabbed her arm to stop her and he felt it, the chemistry, it was still there, burning hot. He knew she had felt it too because she stopped and looked at him, something akin to fear creeping into her eyes, and then she snatched her arm away from him and walked away hastily, nearly stumbling over her feet in the process.

Two days later, he was outside her office building again, waiting beside her car which he had bribed the security guard into pointing out which one it was out of the many in the company parking lot. She didn’t even look at him as she said snarkily, “What, you’re here to tell my why your wife, or whoever the hell she is, is fucking my husband?”

“No, I’m here to ask you why your husband, wherever the hell he is, is fucking my wife.” He couldn’t resist shooting back.

She merely ignored him and slid into her car. Was it just him or was that the ghost of a small smile playing on her lips as she drove away?

The third time, he planted himself on the door of her car, determined to get her to listen to him. “Dunni, we need to talk,” he said to her softly as she approached, her eyes lighting up in annoyance when she saw him.

“Why?” She asked harshly.

He sighed. “Dunni, we need to talk. You know this and there’s no need to put it off any further.”

“I don’t know that there is anything to talk about.”


“You have some nerve, Jeta! Where do you get off, showing up after all this time, demanding we talk? The only thing we have in common is our cheating spouses and we won’t be having even that in common the second I get a divorce from that bastard!”

Eventually, he was able to talk her into having just one drink with him. He suggested a nearby restaurant but she was adamant about not being seen with him in public so he then hesitantly suggested a hotel which to his surprise, she agreed to. Now, they were in the room and she was staring at him stonily, her arms folded, while watching him nurse a whiskey on the rocks.

Nervously, he began to ramble on about what he had been up to in the years they had been out of contact but he soon ran out of words. He was not sure she was listening anyway. She was just staring at him expressionlessly. He screwed up all his courage and walked over to sit by her side.

“Dunni…” He cleared his throat.

“I hate you.” She shut him up with those three words.

He looked at her sadly. His heart felt as though it had been crushed and minced by a giant food processor.

“I know,” he said, “and I don’t blame you. You have every right to. I’ve hated myself for every single day that I walked away and left you behind because I wasn’t man enough to stay.”

She didn’t respond. She just sat there with her head down. After several long minutes, he tried to break the icy, heart-achy silence.

“Dunni, I really don’t…” He began but stopped when she struck him on the shoulder…and then again, and again, and again, and again until she finally ran out of steam and sagged against him.

“You told me you loved me.” She began to cry. “Jeta, you told me you loved me! You told me nothing mattered but the fact that you loved me! So how could you? How could you have left me? How could you have left me the way you did? How could…?”

She wasn’t able to go on. Unable to stand the pain and hurt in her voice, he enveloped her in his arms. He didn’t know who took it there first. All he knew was that they were kissing now and then, they were tearing at each other, hungry and eager to get as close as possible. It was like riding a bike – the chemistry between them. It all came back so easily as they fused together like they had never been apart.

Afterwards, they remained awkwardly on the bed, him unsure and her shy.

How had he ever let her go? That was all he could think as he took, no, drank her in, with his eyes. She looked so beautiful and content lying there.

“I love you.” There, he had said it. She looked at him with her big eyes, so big he had always felt like he was drowning every time he looked into them, and he just had to say it again because he really needed her to believe him, because it was irrevocably true.

She smiled, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Jeta, I love you too. I never really stopped.”

He felt his heart filling up and he reached for her again.

14 thoughts on “Of Love, Irony & The Last Laugh (IIIb of IV)” by Lara B. (@larabrown)

  1. Lara lara, this is another good one. Hope the divorce works and the finally get a chance to be married too. Maybe their spouses will get married too. I really love this. Hope there’s more.

    1. Thanks, Jaywriter. One last part coming up soon.

  2. loving every bit of this Lare
    hope it ends well for them
    waiting for the next part.

    1. Thanks, Anderson. Stay tuned!

      1. of course
        who would want to miss all the kasala that will soon burst.lol

  3. I am so thrilled,this is beautiful and to imagine that I have big eyes,lovely

  4. Awww, i can sense a diabetic coma sneaking up. Can someone give me a dose of insuline laced blood and gore? This sweetness is killing me!
    I have an idea, Lara, maybe Jeta and Dunni can murder their spouses and then live happily ever after.
    That’s my evil twin talking. Now for the real Lade – ‘beautiful! But then, i expected no less’

    1. Lolll! I’ve been criticized so often for writing stories with too bitter-sweet an edge so this is my attempt at lightening up on the bitter bit (however, my evil twin is giving yours the dap in the closet :p)

  5. Lara, i am loving this.
    I think predicting the end isn’t difficult anymore.
    Pls, prove me wrong i want more surprises.

    1. Lolll, thanks! Stay tuned.

  6. Lara, good writing, but I sigh at stories where, after being badly treated by their ex-lover, the main character still welcomes them back with open arms.

    OK, I know that this is romance, and I know that she gave him a hard time, but come on – how are people going to learn that there are lasting consequences to letting the love of your life go, if they read stories like this and think there’s still hope?

    OK, OK, I’m getting carried away. This is a story, not real life…

    1. I actually agree with you re awful ex-lovers being welcomed back with open arms. I was the one stoning the screen and booing when Carrie took Mr. Big back (yuck). However, this is my attempt at being more idealistic as I’ve been scolded for keeping it too real in my stories but shhh, don’t tell anybody!

  7. Phew… I began with IV, then read I, II, IIIa &finished at IIIb. Now that’s an irony. Ha ha! What a SWEET story! (You get blog abi? I wan LICK more of your works. Send me frnd request too o! *winks*)

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