You Know I Need You: Book 2, You Know Me duet (You Are Mine Duets 4)

by Willow Winters

  “What’s possible?” For a moment I worry that he thinks the two of us being together is still an option when it’s not at all for me.

  “Not this like you and me,” he says, rushing out the words as if hearing my unspoken thought. “Trust me, I wish it were. But I meant … just that there could be someone else for me.”

  “You could always write the story. Although I doubt you’d want me to be your agent, huh?”

  “No … I don’t think that would work really,” he says with the same sad smile on his face that I’ve been giving him.

  “Maybe we could still be friends?”

  “I don’t think that’s for the best, Kat. I can’t just be friends with you.”

  My hair tickles my shoulders as I nod and reach for my coat to leave. My movements are sluggish; I don’t want this to be the last goodbye. But it is. I know it. I barely touched my drink and didn’t have anything to eat, but that’s okay. I knew I wouldn’t anyway. Morning sickness has been rough this week so it’s not like I’d be able to keep it down anyway.

  “How about this,” Jacob offers as I pull my wool coat tight around my shoulders. “You call me if you’re ever not okay and want more. But I won’t call you or text you again. It’s in your hands.”

  “I’m sorry, Jake.” I say the words, but they don’t even make a dent in expressing what I feel.

  “Stop being sorry. Do that one thing for me, will you?” he questions, his dark green, hazel eyes shining back just like they did the first moment I met him, and I merely nod and say my goodbye.

  Every step back to my townhouse, I want to go back.

  Every breath, I wish I could tell him that what he did for me, I can never repay, and I’ll be forever thankful for that.

  But neither of those things happen. I walk back to my townhouse alone and the first thing I do when I get home is delete his emails and his number.

  I don’t want to have the option to run back to him.

  Jacob is a good man, but he’s not for me. I don’t need someone else to love me. I need to learn to love being alone again. So I can be whole for my child. So I can be a good mother.

  Diary Entry Five

  Dear Mom,

  It’s not so bad being alone. I’m not really alone, alone. Not with this baby growing, but I can’t feel him or her yet. I still talk to him, though. I think it’s a boy, but I won’t know for weeks.

  Like I said, though, I think it’s going to be all right being alone for now. I remember having that same thought for a while after you guys left me. I know it’s not your fault.

  I just can’t stand to think of needing someone. Not when it hurts so freaking bad when they leave you. Did you see what Evan did? I gave him that power and that’s my fault. I won’t do it again.

  I should have known better.

  If you could just remind me, maybe? The next time he comes around and says he wants me and that he loves me, can you give me a sign? Something that will remind me that he’s just going to leave me again and how much that will hurt?

  People don’t change, and some people are meant to be alone.

  I promise I’ll be okay from now on, Mom.

  I just forgot that I’m one of those people. But I remember now. I won’t forget again.

  Chapter 20

  Evan

  I’m used to sneaking around. I’ve done it all my life. I’m a professional at it, after all.

  The door to the townhouse opens and I turn to look over my shoulder at the cold, barren street. No one knows I’m here and I need to keep it that way.

  The pictures of my wife and me stare back at me as I slowly close the door. Feeling the warmth and familiarity of the home I built with Kat makes the ache deep in my chest twist and turn to a sickening degree. She took down several of our photographs, leaving dark rectangles on the wall where they used to hang and the sunlight failed to lighten and fade the paint behind them.

  The large clock on the back wall ticks loudly as I move through the place we made together. It’s nearly 3:00 a.m., but still, I make sure I wasn’t followed. With bated breath, I check the surveillance system … again.

  The life I led destroyed the only thing I ever had that I wanted to keep. My marriage.

  The knowledge pushes me forward, each step bringing me closer to her. Closer to the bed we once shared, and closer to her warmth under the covers. As I push the door open, my heart beats slowly. With every second that passes my skin burns hotter and the worry threatens to consume me.

  But the sight of her steady breathing and the faint movements of her body as Kat stirs in her sleep put all my worries behind me. She’s safe, and that’s what matters.

  Her eyes flutter open and I stand as still as possible, terrified she’ll see me, but she merely rolls over in bed, moaning slightly, pulling the thin white sheet with her.

  The moonlight filters in through the curtains and leaves a trail of shadows that accentuate her curves as they fall across the bed. She’s still as gorgeous as ever. Even in her sleep with no makeup on and her bare skin kissed by the faint light of the early morning, she holds a beauty that, for me, surpasses all others.

  How many nights have passed with me failing to see that? How much time have I wasted?

  I can’t let a soul know I still love her. They’ll use her to get back at me.

  My eyes widen and my grip tightens on the door as I hear my name slip through her lips. “Evan.” It sounded like a prayer, or maybe a plea. A soft moan escapes her as I take a hesitant step forward, wondering if she saw me or if I’m only with her in her dreams.

  I start to question if she even said it, but then she says it again. The sweet sound of her soft cadence whispering my name is everything I need to keep going.

  I swallow thickly, hating myself for what I’ve done and what I’ve put her through.

  I dare to whisper the only thing that helps lure me to sleep at night, hoping it’ll soothe her too, “I’ll make it right, Kat. I promise, I’ll make it right.”

  Chapter 21

  Kat

  My eyes pop open at the familiar creak from the stairs. My heart races faster and faster as I lie as still as I can, not daring to move a muscle. My body’s hot and the covers are making me even hotter, but I don’t move. I try not to even breathe as I wait for another sound. But nothing comes.

  It’s just my nerves. Maybe a nightmare.

  Slowly, my breath comes back, but I’m still too scared to move. Nearly paralyzed still, I blink away the sleep and tilt my head just enough to look at the clock on my nightstand. 04:14 AM stares back at me in bright red digital numbers.

  The sounds of the city streets filter in and my quickened heartbeat fades. It was nothing, I whisper and reach for my glass of water, downing it then wishing there was more.

  Get up.

  I will my body to move. I wince and crack my back, letting my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. Sleeping alone has never been a favorite of mine. Until Evan, I spent years with poor sleep patterns, both in falling and staying asleep. Even more than that, I don’t like how Evan’s side of the bed doesn’t have the faint smell of him anymore. I can feel the solemn expression on my face as I glance at where he used to sleep, but it only pushes me to stand up straighter and wipe the sleep from my eyes.

  The floor protests as I walk, and I let the feeling that someone was in here leave me. I have the security system … but I think I’d like a dog. A big dog.

  The corners of my lips tip up into a smile as I walk down the stairs.

  Pushing back the hair from my face, I slink down to the kitchen and turn on the light. It’s early, but I’m starving. To sleep, or not to sleep becomes the question.

  It only takes a glass of water, two Twinkies and a couple handfuls of grapes before I don’t feel so hungry anymore and sleep is calling me upstairs again.

  Passing through the dining room, I check over my shoulder just to make sure there’s no one here. That eerie feeling still clings to me.

  I thi
nk I’ll name the dog Brutus. My lips purse as I wonder how dogs do with infants … I make a mental note to look that up first thing tomorrow.

  I think I’m starting to really feel pregnant. It’s beyond being exhausted. It’s something else, something that makes me rub my belly and talk to him or her as if they’re already here. Some type of knowing and it makes me smile.

  Before I can head back upstairs, my eyes catch sight of the flowers on the table. The flowers Jacob sent me when Henry died are already wilted. Bright yellow sunflowers. They’re large and the stems are thick. They’ll eventually die and by the look of them, that time is coming soon. What a shame … that’s what flowers do, though. They die.

  Next to the vase is my laptop and I absently pull it toward the edge of the table then take a seat. My body aches, my hips especially, and sitting up feels better than lying down. I might as well get a little work in before I try to sleep again.

  A yawn leaves me as the dim light of the computer brightens.

  Studying the flowers again, I think about how twisted it is that I turned down a man who could have been perfect for me. A shrink might have something to say about that decision. My fingertips brush gently along the petals. I’ll never know if we could have been more, but right now I’m content with that decision.

  It’s time I took control of my life.

  My to-do list is already set. First step: I need a new place. Somewhere near the Manhattan Bridge, I think. It’s far more family friendly. Dog friendly too.

  I check my messages and emails, simply out of habit. A few of the candidates I picked to interview to be my personal assistant emailed me back. There are two of them I really like. I might actually hire both of them. Maybe that’s really the first step. And then finding the perfect place will be step two. A smile plays across my lips and I nod to myself in approval of my “early morning can’t sleep, aha” moment.

  Those two tasks are momentous and huge leaps for me. Delegating work and settling down somewhere my child can have deep roots. Resting my hand on my belly, I promise I’ll make it happen. I may have failed to be there for Evan, but for this baby, I’ll do anything. I’ll have it all fixed and ready before this one gets here. He or she will never know this place or all the hell that went on here.

  My gaze drifts across the room and the night that started it all plays out in front of my eyes. Suddenly, it hurts. That numbing prick comes back. It’s been happening like that. I’m so sure, so ready to move on … and then I remember. The visions of myself sitting there in the dining room chair like a ghost, drinking wine and wanting to deny it, and at the same time hating Evan because I knew he was lying.

  A dreadful breath leaves me, and a sadness weighs down on my chest, but there’s conviction there too.

  A new place, a new way of life. My fingers drift to my belly button and then lower. A new life entirely.

  Diary Entry Six

  Hey Mom, can I take back what I said? I don’t think I want to be alone.

  I don’t think alone is the right word. Alone hurts my heart a lot. It hurts more than I want to admit. Mom, it feels like the worst thing in the world sometimes. Now that I know what it’s like to not be alone, I’m not sure that’s really what I want.

  I think that’s why I clung to Jake. I just didn’t want to be alone. You probably knew that, didn’t you?

  More than that, I want to be loved by someone who can love me the way I need and I can admit that.

  How did you know Dad loved you the way you needed? I just laughed a little writing this. I’m sure he made it obvious. He didn’t hurt you like Evan does to me.

  I hope what Evan did doesn’t make you mad. I don’t think he means it. I think he doesn’t know any better and I knew that when I married him.

  Everything has settled now, and I know I want more, Mom. I really want someone to love me.

  I want them to love me like Evan used to love me.

  I don’t know if it’s possible.

  I’m going to find someone one day. There’s a lot to do between now and then, but I promise I won’t settle for being alone.

  Maybe not now. I don’t know when. I’m not going to use them or compare them to Evan. It’ll take time, but I think eventually I’ll be able to do this.

  This baby makes me feel loved and I know I love him or her.

  I promise I’ll give him every bit of love I have. A little extra too, lots of kisses from you. I know you’d love to hold him. I’ll hold him extra tight for you. And for Henry. Henry would have loved this baby too.

  Chapter 22

  Evan

  She took off her wedding ring today.

  I watched on a tiny-ass security monitor as she slipped it off and held it between her fingers. Miles away with the sins of the city between us, all I could do was watch her stare at it, as if wishing it would answer some unspoken question for her.

  I hold my breath as I quietly open the door.

  Kat didn’t change the locks like she threatened to do, but that wouldn’t have stopped me anyway.

  This is the point that I’ve truly gone crazy and I know it. She’s set boundaries and I don’t give a shit about them. It’s the first time in my life that’s happened, but losing the woman you love will do that to a man. Watching her walk away when you know she loves you and you love her; it’s a torture that’s immeasurable and the destruction it leaves is irrefutable.

  One slow step in, and not the faintest of sounds. The front door to the townhouse closes behind me softly. She’ll forgive me one day. I’ll hate myself forever if I stayed away.

  Maybe I should have called, maybe I should have announced myself, but it’s my home. She’s my wife and this is where I belong.

  I can accept that now. If I can keep secrets, so can Kat. I swallow thickly, closing my eyes and hating myself as I lock the front door. She better be able to.

  I’m a desperate man. If anything happens to her, I’ll end it. I already know that. But I’m so fucking weak that I’m risking it. If only she can keep a secret, we’ll be all right.

  My head whips around to the sound of the microwave beeping in the kitchen.

  Beep, beep, beep followed by the click of the microwave being opened and a soft hum of satisfaction.

  Kat. My love.

  She’s only a room away, and knowing what I’m about to do makes my heart race as I find it hard to swallow.

  My body doesn’t wait for me. My feet move on their own, pushing me closer to her. I need to see her, even if she doesn’t see me. I can’t explain why it needs to be in person.

  The only light in the townhouse that’s on is the kitchen light. It’s early morning and I wasn’t planning on her being awake.

  Maybe the fact she’s awake is a sign. A sign that I can’t be a coward any longer.

  That’s what a man who waits in the shadows is. That’s what a man who hurts his wife is. A fucking coward.

  Stalking into the kitchen, I expect her to see me, but her back is turned as she stirs something in a bowl then slips it into the microwave, still humming something. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a lullaby.

  In nothing but a thin cotton sleep shirt, she tempts me.

  Fuck, I’ve missed this view. When she raises her arms, the T-shirt she has on slips up past her thighs and gives me the smallest peek of her cheeks.

  I almost groan from primal deprivation. It feels like forever since I’ve held her, laid her in bed and enjoyed her in every way possible.

  “Kat.” I say her name softly as the microwave starts and she whips around, backing into the cabinets with her hand on her chest.

  “Sorry,” I say and there’s not a single second of hesitation when I apologize. “I know you said not to come … I just …”

  I can see the outline of her breasts through the shirt and with her dark brunette hair a mess from sleep, she’s never looked more beautiful. More fuckable. More mine.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” Kat whispers after a second, breathless.
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br />   “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I didn’t mean to.” I take a chance to move closer but stop at the kitchen counter. Boundaries. I’ve already broken so many of them. It’s hard to keep my distance, but I’ll wait.

  “What are you doing here?” The microwave beeps and she rips the door open without taking the bowl out then slams it shut. Merely silencing it before crossing her arms over her chest.

  I cock a brow at her anger, but she doesn’t react.

  “I brought these.” Slipping my hand into my jacket pocket, I pull out the pair of baby shoes I got from home. They’re the same pair I wore when I was little. Smooth leather and simple, but before me, they were my father’s. I found them in a box in Pops’s basement. Ma put them there. It’s her handwriting.

  Kat pinches the bridge of her nose and turns her shoulder to me, hiding her expression, but I saw it. The sweep of sadness cuts me to my core.

  “Baby?” I whisper softly, cautiously even. “I—”

  “What are you doing?” she says, cutting me off as she stares daggers in my direction.

  “I know you’re angry.” My tone is placating, but it does nothing to soothe her.

  “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  A second passes, followed by another as I struggle to form the right words. “I have faith you’ll forgive me,” I tell her with feigned confidence.

  “Fuck off,” she spits out.

  “Because you love me. And you know I love you.”

  “You love me?” she questions with a deep scowl. Storming toward me, she sticks her finger in my chest as she yells. “This is what love is?” She shoves me back and I take it, loving the fight in her. But it doesn’t last long.

  “Your father died, and I had to be alone.” She murmurs the truth I already know and takes a step back. “You chose to be alone,” she whispers. She tries turning from me again, but I grip her waist.