Free A Chance of Fate by H. M. Cummings

 
    Mathew Reynolds looked down to his leather wristwatch for the fifth—no, sixth —time since receiving Terri’s text.
    I’ll be there in fifteen , he thought, replaying the message in his head whilst rubbing together his shaky hands. He fished out his HTC from his pants pocket and took a cursory glance of the hotel parking lot, knowing full well the object of his desire hadn’t arrived. The place was still. Dead. Only three cars, all of which were covered in a thin blanket of snow, occupied the lot. Besides, he practically knew this place like the back of his hand by now: the third street lamp flickered every once in a while, the only tire tracks visible were his, and the light next to room 139 was off and had been so since he’d pulled up nearly thirty minutes ago.
    “It’s been fifteen, babe,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the radio dial. Scanning the stations, not a single one offered a damn thing which could take his mind off Terri and her supple tits, her puffy nipples, her… her…
    Matt rubbed his leg, his cock half erect. He licked his lips and squeezed shut his eyes. God , what could have been keeping her? His little piece of ass on the side must be toying with him, torturing Matt with the façade that she’d not show. He looked down to his watch again: seven minutes past eight.
    The snow, which had been relentless in its blissful yet maddening downpour, was tapering off. Had she been delayed due to an accident? People around these parts weren’t the best when it came to driving in inclement weather. Too reckless. Too much in a rush. Too fucking worried about their own issues and not concerned about that which lay ahead of them.
    The thought drove him to bring up his phone and click on Terri’s name. Her light brown face, cheeks pulled back into a devilish grin, her glistening brown eyes, and black hair cascading either side of her beautiful, round face appeared. Matt stewed on the thought for a moment and decided not to hit ‘DIAL.’ Wouldn’t preserve his usual nonchalant demeanor. But, he decided, tonight, this dark and stormy and clichéd night, would be different.
    He activated Facebook and ran through the news feed. Don and Steve were at Keagan’s, drinking it up with two college girls. Kyra, Matt’s sister, had just announced she and Jim were expecting their second child. A smile played on his face as he was about to send her a big “CoNgRaTz!!!,” but then the feed updated and his wife’s face came into focus. She’d just posted a new status: drinkin’ wine and missin’ my hubby .  .
    Matt exited the app and tossed his phone to the passenger seat. Shaking his head, he cursed himself for not yet coming clean about his new ‘business trips’ which just had to take place at night. Out of town. Out of reception.
    “ Fuckin’ Facebook,” he muttered.
    Married for seven long years, Mathew Reynolds began feeling suffocated. Ashley had grown far too attached, too dependent. Borderline obsessive. The fact that she’d cheated on him six months after their honeymoon didn’t help. You could say that Matt had always held a grudge, even though he’d sworn it off to her. She’d been drunk. At a bar. With her whore cousin, Beth.
    Back then, Matt had been madly in love, desperate to keep her by his side, and had forgiven her without a second thought. But then the wandering thoughts, the jealousy, the rage and anger, had mounted him like a cavalryman charging into battle. For years he’d tried to avoid it, to shrug it off. To actually forgive the bitch.
    He shook his head whil e biting his lip. He had just grown too far apart from her, he supposed. Even after she’d truly given up the night life and devoted herself solely to him. This time, however, it was Matt staying out and fucking someone else. And he enjoyed it. A little too much, he imagined.
    Crunching snow from beside his vehicle yanked Matt from his thoughts . His eyes widened as he saw Terri smiling and waving at him from the