by Aly Martinez
A sound registering between a laugh and a sob came out, and I hugged him tight. “Please don’t.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “But you have to understand I will eventually.”
“Roman,” I pleaded.
“I can fix this,” he declared.
“Stop.”
“I can fix us,” he swore.
“Please, stop.”
“I can fix us.”
“Hush.” I kissed his chest.
“I will fix us, Elisabeth,” he vowed. “Mark my words. I will not spend my life without you.”
How do you argue with that?
“Okay,” I agreed, completely unconvinced.
The sun had barely set when his body slacked under my cheek. “Okay,” he repeated.
Minutes later, Roman fell asleep.
I listened to his breathing even out until I eventually followed him into dreamland.
And, in my dreamland, he was always there.
Even when he wasn’t.
Chapter Fifteen
Roman
I woke up alone, just as I had every morning since she’d left. The hollow ache in my chest was my only company. I rolled to the side to check my alarm clock, and then my mind finally woke, too.
I was at home.
And not the piece-of-shit garage apartment I’d rented from an elderly couple when we’d first split.
I was home.
The room was dark, but the clock on her nightstand read only nine p.m. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or two.
The day came back in a rush.
Heath Light
Walter Noir.
Clare.
Dread soured my gut.
And then…
Elisabeth.
Elisabeth.
Elisabeth.
My cock stirred to life as a smile split my mouth.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and pushed myself from the bed. The light in the bathroom was off, so I knew she had to be downstairs.
I dragged my jeans on, leaving my shirt discarded on the bedroom floor, then set about finding her.
The stairs of the old house creaked as I quietly made my way down. I froze in the middle when I heard her whispering in the kitchen.
“Because I’m freaking the fuck out!” she said quietly.
I could see her lower body pacing around the kitchen, the hem of a blue, silk nightgown brushing the tops of her thighs. It didn’t appear that anyone else was in the house, so she had to have been on the phone.
I sank down to my ass and stayed out of sight. It was a familiar position for me. I’d done it numerous times in the six months after we’d lost Tripp. But, back then, it wasn’t out of curiosity; it was out of desperation. I spent hours sitting on that step, listening to her laugh on the phone with one of her friends. She didn’t laugh anymore back then—at least, not with me. I knew that, as soon as I hit the bottom step, she’d hang up and fall back into the pits of despair.
She needed the laughs. And my soul needed to hear her have them.
So, every Saturday morning before I darted off to work in an effort to create a way that I hoped would buy her smile back, I fed like a leech on the soft giggles that were no longer mine. And, when she’d finally hang up, I’d draw in a breath, walk the rest of the way down, and watch her smile slide away.
And then, like the coward I’d been, I’d leave.
Today would be different.
Tomorrow would be different.
Forever would be different.
She could fight me all she wanted. She could vent and freak the fuck out to whoever she was on the phone with. But, when I hit the bottom stair, I would not be leaving.
Ever.
I’d lived that life for two years, and I was done with it.
“He said he’s checking back in. What does that even mean?” she whispered. “He doesn’t just get to waltz back into my life and decide he’s ready to start over. I’m pretty sure I get a say in this, too.” She paused. “Oh, shut up! Sex is sex. It’s totally different.”
I bit my knuckle to stifle my laugh.
“He’s an attractive man. I’m a woman with needs. And let’s be honest—his cock is huge.” I heard her giggle. “Then, if you don’t want to hear about it, Kristen, don’t bring up sex in the first place.”
Dear Lord, it was Kristen. The good news was I knew she’d have my back. The bad news was I was starving, the smell of meat cooking was wafting up the stairs, and a conversation between those two could easily last all night.
Standing, I made my decision and then jogged down the last few stairs.
She was facing me with terrified eyes as I rounded the banister.
“Hey,” I said, raking a hand through my hair to get it out of my face, throwing an ab curl and a bicep flex in for good measure.
Clutching the phone at her ear, she stared at my chest and bit her bottom lip.
When I smirked, I swear to God the woman squeaked.
“Kristen, I have to go.” She didn’t say goodbye before hanging up.
My smile grew.
“Hey,” she said, dropping the phone to the counter. Her eyes once again flashed down to my chest. “Do you…uh…need to borrow a T-shirt?”
I shook my head. “Nah. I’ve got clothes in my bag.”
“Right,” she said stiffly. Giving me her back, she turned toward the oven. “I…um…don’t have an assistant to call for dinner delivery, so I made some burgers. You hungry? They’re still warm. I was gonna come wake you up in a minute.” She pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove.
Half of the pan was covered with my favorite seasoned sweet potato fries, and the other side had two handmade beef patties.
I snagged a fry, popped it in my mouth, then spoke around it. “Was this before or after you told Kristen about my huge cock?”
Her back shot ramrod straight. “I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chuckling, I slid a hand around to her stomach from behind and placed a kiss at the curve of her neck. “Fine. But you wanna tell me why you’re freaking the fuck out?”
She sighed, her chin falling to her chest, her hand lifting to cover mine. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re half naked in my kitchen right now after we had mind-blowing sex and where I confessed I miss you and you swore you were going to eventually propose again?”
“Mmm.” I hooked my arm over her chest and pulled her flush against my front. “Yeah, but I said I missed you, too. And that I was gonna fix us. And then you made me burgers in a little, blue nightgown.”
“I’m serious, Roman. This is too much. Combined with the embryo thing, I can’t handle this right now. We need to slow down.”
I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with her sweet, floral scent, then kissed the other side of her neck. “How long did I wait the first time?”
She tried to step out of my grasp as she huffed, “This isn’t the first time anymore.”
“No. But, baby, you have to understand—we’re creeping on two days since I got you back. This is me taking it slow.”
“Roman, please. You can’t fix years’ worth of problems in minutes. I need time.”
But she’d had two fucking years of time. I wasn’t waiting even a minute longer. My life was with her. It always had been. It always would be.
I released her long enough to step in front of her. Then I shoved my hands under her arms and lifted her to sit on the counter beside the stove. Parting her legs, I stepped between them, resting my hands on her bare thighs and announced, “Shit went down today. And I really need to fill you in, but I need your head straight on where we are before we can move forward to that.”
“What went down today?” she asked, worry flashing over her face.
“Your head straight on what’s happening between us yet?”
She scoffed. “No. But at least I’d know what shit went down today and won’t be lost on both accounts.”
&nb
sp; I bent at the knees so we were eye level and said, “Let’s get you straight. Then we’ll talk about the shit.”
She rolled her eyes. “Money has made you bossy.”
“No. Living without you has made me realize that time’s wasting. And I’m done watching the clock.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but I silenced her with a kiss.
Her mouth was stiff at first, but it was Elisabeth. She soon became pliable.
And then she came alive.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, bringing me closer. I forced myself away when I felt the tip of her tongue touch my bottom lip.
I had minutes.
Not years—which is what it was going to take if her tongue entered the equation.
“I got out of the military because it wasn’t ever going to provide me with the life I wanted for myself. I was a single, twenty-seven-year-old guy, and I wasn’t getting any younger. When my time came up, the decision was easy. Between deployments, I had saved up around a hundred grand, so I moved home and dropped it all in a little building in downtown Atlanta in order to open Leblanc Consulting. I made twenty-two thousand dollars that first year. It was a fucking joke. But I had no doubt it could have been a success with time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I know all of this, Roman.”
And she did.
But she didn’t know the whys of my decisions back then—the same whys that had led me to make the decisions that had ultimately ruined us.
“When I met you, my entire world changed in one night. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me. But Leblanc Consulting wasn’t going to enable me to give you everything I wanted to. I literally went from the bachelor life to a family man over night. You needed insurance, food, a house, and clothes. So I sold the building, took that entry-level corporate job in the city, put down a chunk of money on this house, finally bought you a diamond a quarter the size of the one I wanted, and then I made a life with you.”
Betrayal sparkled in her deep-green eyes. “You told me you wanted that job in the city. You told me Leblanc Consulting was failing and you needed an out.”
“I needed you to be happy.”
“What?” Her voice broke as though I’d maimed her.
I quickly assured, “And I have never once regretted that decision. Because part of me giving you those things that made you happy made me happy. Watching you fall asleep with a smile on your face in a life I made for us was the most gratifying thing I’d ever done.”
She stared at me in disbelief, her head shaking as she said, “Roman, I wasn’t falling asleep with a smile on my face because of the life you made for us. I was falling asleep with a smile on my face because I was doing it next to you.”
“Right. And I got that even back then, baby. But, for a man, it’s different. I can’t expect you to understand, but I’m asking you to accept it. For a man, success is measured by your ability to provide a good life for your family. It doesn’t have to be money, just a quality of life where your wife can fall asleep with a smile and doing it saying she’s happy just to be doing it with you.”
I thought she understood what I was saying when she stared at me for several beats without a response.
This was Elisabeth though.
I should have known better.
“Yeah. That makes no sense,” she said. “This is why men get a bad rap. Y’all do stupid shit then try to justify it by saying crap like, ‘For a man, it’s different.’ Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but if a man is kind, loving, respectful, makes a woman laugh, knows how to open the pickle jar, and change a flat tire, we really don’t need much else. If I needed insurance, food, a house, or clothes, I would get off my ass, get a job, and get that stuff myself. What I can’t get on my own is a good, kind, loving, respectful man who makes me laugh, knows how to open a pickle jar, and change a flat tire.” She glared at me with an arched eyebrow.
I grinned and added. “With a huge cock.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt. But I could still make do if you didn’t.”
I threw my head back and laughed. God, I’d missed her.
Her fingers traced over my abs as she giggled right along with me.
When I finally sobered, I pressed a closed-mouth, but no less deep, kiss to her smart-ass mouth. Then I got serious again.
I didn’t want to do it.
What I really wanted to do was take a shower, drink a fucking beer, eat a homemade burger that was currently getting cold, then go to bed and make love to my wife before she fell asleep with a smile on her face, content to be doing it next to me.
But, again…I had minutes.
And years to make up for.
Palming each side of her face, I tipped my forehead to hers and got to it. “Lis, I spent my whole life thinking that, if you wanted something, you work hard and make it happen. And then, one day, I had to face the harsh reality that some things were out of my reach no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t give you a family, and it was the first time I ever felt like I’d failed you.”
“Roman,” she gasped, but I kept talking.
“It was a such a basic biological function, and I just couldn’t do it. Do you have any idea how hard it was as a man to, month after month, watch the woman you wanted to give the world fall apart over pregnancy tests that just wouldn’t turn positive? And then the miscarriages.” I cleared my throat when a thick, gritty knot took up root.
“Roman,” she breathed regretfully. “We both—”
“No, let me say this. It’s been too long.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she closed her mouth and gave me a short nod.
I sucked in a breath and let five years of pent-up anxiety fly. “That fucking roller coaster of euphoria when you finally got pregnant, the constant nerves during those first few weeks, then the crash down into utter devastation when you’d start bleeding. Jesus, Lis. It destroyed me. I know it killed you too, but you were stronger than I was. You always got back up and wanted to try again. You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you no. I couldn’t handle it. I wanted it to stop so we could just go back to being us—being happy. But then I’d see that glimmer of hope in your eyes. So I’d pull my shit together and set about giving you the world, regardless that it was shredding me.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she accused, leaning away from me.
I was breaking her. I could see it in her eyes. Everything I’d shielded her from during those years we were trying to conceive was crushing her all over again.
I gave her space and swayed my torso back, but I kept my hips between her legs. “Because, if you wanted it, I wanted to be the one to give it to you.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, tears streaming from her eyes. “I…I thought we were a team.”
“We were!” I swore. “But, baby, infertility is an impossible sport. Everyone loses.”
“Until they win,” she replied sharply. “You’re standing here, talking about our struggle to get pregnant and how that affected you. But you seem to forget the fact that we beat it. We got Tripp.”
My eyebrows pinched together. I didn’t know how to reply. I’d loved that little boy from the moment Elisabeth had told me she was pregnant. I’d never forget the first time I’d felt him kick. It was the first time I believed in miracles. I’d also never forget the day we found out he was a boy—and then, minutes later, found out about the fluid on his brain and that he probably wouldn’t make it to delivery. It’d felt like I’d been hit by freight train. I wasn’t sure we could consider that kind of tragedy a victory.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “You never connected with him, but I never thought you’d turn your back on me.”
“I never connected with him?” I repeated on a violent whisper. “Have you lost your fucking mind? He died in my arms!”
“And then you left!” she yelled, pushing me back and hopping off the counter. “Like it meant nothing. Like those twelve minutes he was alive weren’
t worth it. You woke up the next morning while I was still in the hospital, grieving our little boy, and declared you were quitting your job and starting Leblanc Industries.”
“So I could give you another child!” I roared.
Her face turned red as she screamed, “I didn’t need another child! I needed you!” She began pacing the length of the granite island. “God, Roman. What is wrong with you? You act like I was some baby-crazed woman who wouldn’t stop until I got a basketball team. I had just lost our son. The last thing on my mind was replacing him.”
I stepped toward her, blocking her path. “But you would have wanted to try again eventually, Lis. And nothing had changed. I wouldn’t have been able to give it to you. I couldn’t do it physically, and it destroyed me when we had to borrow money from your parents the first time. That was my job to provide that for you. And I just couldn’t! I started the company, and I did everything I fucking could to earn the money to pay for another IVF cycle.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared at the floor. “I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up. I know this now. I should have talked to you. But, in the throes of failing the only woman I’ve ever loved, the words didn’t come easily. I take full responsibility for that.”
“God, Roman! You have no idea how often I used to lie awake in that bed, all hours of the night, just praying you’d come home and talk to me.”
I slowly lifted my gaze to hers and admitted, “Yeah, I do. Because I used to sit in my car, down the street, waiting for your bedroom light to go off.”
“What?” she whispered, a sob catching in her throat.
I reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.
“I couldn’t stand watching you cry anymore and I couldn’t fix it. I came home a few times and found you talking to my mom or one of your girlfriends, and for those moments, you were okay. Happy, even. But, as soon as your eyes met mine, they filled with tears. I figured staying away was better.”
She shoved me as hard as she could. “You dumbass. I missed you. I missed our life. I missed being your wife. That’s why I’d cry, because even when you did come home, you still weren’t there!”
I lifted my hands palm up and, at a loss for more words, said, “I’m sorry.”