I’m a sucker for angsty love stories so I imagine that Jacob is my first love (and I, his) and we didn’t get our happy ending. He married and had children with someone else; I stayed single because I couldn’t find a man that would make me forget about Jacob. I couldn’t handle seeing Jacob either, so I left London. So many years had passed when I came back. I thought I was completely over him until we literally bumped against each other. It’s been 20 years. I wouldn’t even recognise his face lined with age if he hadn’t opened his mouth. That voice. Of course I wouldn’t forget it. I kept dreaming it even if Jacob’s face in my dreams faded away in the mist of forgotten memories. I wanted to punch him and make him miserable.
When I learned that he was divorced and estranged from his family, I rejoiced. Not because he was single again but because of spite. I wanted him to suffer. But the sadness in his eyes gnawed in my heart. I couldn’t do it. We reconnected and I was surprised just how much he had matured over the years. I didn’t want to fall in love with him again but I did. He wooed me slowly and carefully… including in sex. A far cry from the blistering pace he set when we were young. The last time I had sex was with him so many years ago so it felt like I was a virgin again. He was shocked to know that he was the only one since and vowed to make up for lost time.
