by Shauna Allen
How?
“So, do you guys want kids someday?” Dwayne’s wife asked as she scooped up a bite of sweet potato.
A perfectly innocent, natural question, but it pierced my heart nonetheless. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell everyone about being pregnant, but something held me back. Blake slid his gaze to me, keeping his face impassive.
I swallowed. “Um, sure. Someday,” I spit out.
Audra smiled and leaned over to wipe some spit from the baby’s cheek as the next youngest knocked over his sippy cup of milk. “Well, that’s great. They’re a lot of work, but so worth it.”
Dwayne grinned his agreement as he used his napkin to clean up the spilled milk.
“Delilah is going to be an awesome mom,” Blake said.
I studied him closely. He just grinned and dropped his fork to squeeze my knee.
Hope filled me, unfurling warmly in my chest. I didn’t know if it was hormones or the hope for a Christmas miracle, but it suddenly felt like things were going to be all right. Without thinking, I clasped his hand and smiled. “I love you.”
Surprise filtered across his features then his eyes lit with delight. And love. “I love you, too, Princess.”
He leaned over and kissed me, and I realized in that moment that I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
After we stuffed our faces and played a couple rounds of Pictionary, Blake and I headed out with full stomachs and happy smiles. It had been a good night.
We made it home in easy silence, our hands clasped over the center console. I didn’t overanalyze. I just let myself feel. At least for now, I told myself. There was always tomorrow.
We let ourselves into the dark house and Blake turned to close and lock the door. I studied his strong profile in the dim moonlight. Had there ever been a time I didn’t love this man? He was such an ingrained part of my life, my heart, my soul, that I simply could not remember.
He slowly turned and faced me, his eyes glinting in the blackness.
On a breath, I rushed him and shoved him against the door, my hands ripping at his jacket as I sealed my lips to his in a hungry kiss. He was frozen for one shocked moment, then he dove right in, kissing me like I was the only meal he’d ever need.
It was a frenzy of lips and tongues and desperate clutches, our harsh breathing the only sound in the room. We were naked in moments and he spun us so my back was pressed to the cool door and he was all hot masculine hardness to my front.
He gripped my hips and lifted me roughly, plunging inside in one smooth, hot stroke. I gasped and clutched at his shoulders. We had never been this desperate, this hungry. And I needed it.
I needed him.
It was a little rough, a lot delicious, and I reveled in the freedom. I was finally in my body and not my mind, and Blake was right there with me. It was glorious.
It only took us a few minutes, seconds maybe, to shatter in each other’s arms, his head tucked into my neck, his hot breath fanning across my damp flesh. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my shoulder then gently put me down and pulled back. He kept his eyes downturned as he found his jeans and yanked them back on, then gingerly plucked up my dress and handed it to me.
I accepted it, wondering about this docile Blake.
“Is something wrong?” I asked as I clutched my dress to my front.
Dark, hooded eyes slid up to mine. “Not a thing.”
Somehow, I didn’t believe him.
On a huff, I shoved past him and stormed to our room, where I dropped my dress on the bed and went straight to the shower, cranking it to near scalding. Did he regret making love to me? After all his talk of working things out?
I stood under the hot stream and tried to decipher my husband. In a flash, I remembered the wounded boy I’d first met. He was still hidden in there, and I’d gotten glimpses of him over the years as he struggled to not let himself get bogged down with his father’s vile temper. Weeping over his mother’s grave. Constantly pushing himself to work more, work harder. To be someone.
God, why couldn’t he see he was someone? To me, he was the only one.
No matter what happened to us and our marriage, I knew Blake would always be the love of my life. Unfortunately, my survival instinct had kicked in when my loneliness and despair had become unbearable.
I scrubbed at my hair as the tears came.
I couldn’t figure this out. What should I do?
Suds ran in a stream down my body as I bowed my head and placed a hand to my stomach. There was no evidence of a baby yet, but I could feel the invisible, unbreakable ties binding us all the same.
Suddenly, the curtain moved and then strong, warm arms were banding me from behind. Blake interlaced our fingers over my belly and pressed a kiss to my neck. It only made me cry harder.
“Why?” I sobbed, my cries wracking my body.
He held me tighter. “Why, what?” His voice sluiced over me as warm as the water.
“Why do I feel like I’m being torn in two? Why does it hurt so much?”
After a moment, he gently nudged me to turn in his arms. I lifted my eyes and studied the dark depths of his as the water continued to pelt us. His gaze gave nothing away.
“Don’t you feel it, too?” I asked.
His grip tightened on my hips. “Yes, baby. I feel it. I feel it all.” Heat and steam wrapped around us as I leaned in, craving his next words. “And I won’t ruin us by taking pieces of you. I will fix this, and I will have your heart again. All of it.”
I shivered. How could he not see that he already had my heart? It was just broken.
Blake
I woke up early Sunday morning with Delilah wrapped around me like a pretzel in our bed and the soft pattering of a winter rain outside our window. I blinked and focused on the hazy, gray light of the pre-dawn and shifted closer to my wife. I tucked my nose behind her ear and inhaled, loving that her scent was so familiar, so calming. She mumbled something and curled further into me.
This was perfect. This was us.
Before whatever demons we were battling shoved their way between us, anyway.
My stomach growled, but I ignored it and held her as long as I could before I had to get to the bathroom. Kissing her temple, I shifted away carefully and slid on some clothes over my boxers, studying her. So fucking beautiful. I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect woman. Not for me. She was literally the best half of me. Always would be.
I took care of business as quietly as I could then slipped out to the kitchen. I started our coffee and rifled through the fridge for our traditional Sunday morning breakfast. Bacon and eggs should do it. That, and Dee’s favorite cinnamon rolls. After my first cup of coffee, I got to work on our food, the only other sound being the gentle patter of the rain against the window.
Just as I was pulling out the cinnamon rolls, a tousled Dee appeared in the doorway, tying her robe around her waist. She smiled tentatively. “Good morning.”
“Hey, babe.” I tipped my head to the stove and the frying bacon. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
She shuffled in and grabbed some decaf before plopping down on a bar stool and studying me. “I see that. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I finished cooking and let her wake up a bit before sitting with her at the bar with our plates.
She dug into her runny eggs and I winced. How she could eat them like that, I’d never understand. I murdered mine to within an inch of their lives, frying them almost toasty.
“I was—”
“So, whatdya want to—?”
I paused and grinned. “Go ahead.”
“No. You first,” she insisted.
“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to do today?”
She slid a bacon slice through her egg yolk and I had to look away. “I dunno. I was thinking I might just like to stay home. Maybe read, watch movies? What about you?”
I tucked a loose piece of her tousled hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to do whatever you want.”
/> She bit her lip and focused on her plate. “Okay.”
We were interrupted when the phone rang and she jumped up to get it. I sat back and sipped my coffee, listening to her side of the conversation. Who would call this early on a Sunday?
She ‘uh huhed’ and ‘mmmed’ a few times, her face drawing into a frown. Then came the ‘oh, my God,’ followed a few minutes later by ‘when are you coming?’
“Okay, Jewel,” she finally said, and I clued into the fact it was her cousin on the phone. “See you soon. Please be safe.”
She hung up and faced me, her frown deeper.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Her gaze focused on mine. “Jewel had to get a restraining order against her boyfriend, but he’s been getting kinda stalkerish, so she’s not feeling safe. She decided to move back here.”
“Damn.” I didn’t know what else to say. I knew Dee and Jewel played together as kids when her family life was a little better, but they’d lost touch until a few years into our marriage. Now they were pretty tight and I could clearly see the worry on Delilah’s face.
I stood and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad she’s coming here. The reason is pretty shitty, but I’m still glad. I know you’ll love having her around.”
She brightened a little bit. “Yeah. You’re right.”
We putzed around a while, cleaning up the kitchen and sipping second cups of coffee, listening to the rain as it howled outside. She finally stood and her smile raked over me. I followed her down the hallway to our room, wondering what was on her mind. Could be anything with that woman of mine.
She paused by our unmade bed, her gaze uncertain as she eyed the rumpled sheets, her hand on the tie of her robe.
“You getting a shower, babe?” I asked.
She faced me, a puzzled frown marring her brow. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. You know that.”
“Has there ever been . . . there haven’t been any other women . . . right?”
I simply stared at her for a moment, processing. How could she think . . . ? “No! Never.” I hated that she even felt the need to ask me that, but I understood why. Our distance, the nights I didn’t come home, the Candace incident. But she had nothing to worry about. I may have been a fool, but I wasn’t a cheater.
Blinking, she studied me a moment as if deciding whether to believe me or not.
“I swear, Dee. There has never been, and will never be, another woman.”
She tilted her head, making her long mahogany locks touch her breast. “Okay.” A gentle smile tugged on her lips as her fingers moved over the tie of her robe. Suddenly, it was gone.
I sucked a breath down my dry throat as I stared at my naked wife. She had always been beautiful to me—as a willowy teenager, a thin, grief-stricken lady struggling with the loss of her children, a filled out, sensual woman with curves in all the right places . . . and especially the goddess in front of me now, ivory skin and big aqua eyes that spoke a million different emotions.
I went to her immediately and swooped her into a crushing hug as I placed kisses along her jaw. She relaxed into my embrace with a breathy moan. Her fingers clutched my shoulders as my lips found her breast. I gorged myself on her warmth and sweetness as we fell into a heap on the bed.
She gripped my waistband and started shoving my pants down, then flipped us until she was on top of me, straddling my hips. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulders, making her look like an angel. My angel.
I raised her hips and seated her on me, and she hissed out a breath. Her eyes stayed locked on mine as she began to move and I cupped her breasts, toying with her nipples the way she loved.
“God . . . Blake,” she whispered like the words were being ripped from her throat.
“I love you,” I whispered back, knowing nothing had ever been truer.
But would it be enough?
After we made love and showered, we found our way to the couch, where we snuggled after Delilah popped in a movie. Some girly comedy. I didn’t pay much attention as I studied my fingers winding in her hair. My mind soon wandered to work and the shop and the sale of the Spyder. It would be finalized once Mr. Henry brought me the cashier’s check this week, and I think part of me was just waiting for him to bail. Could something this awesome happen? Had I finally earned some respect . . . gotten out from under my dad’s shadow? I could only hope. But he’d cast such a big fucking shadow over my life for as long as I could remember.
I shoved that aside and thought of all the ways I could use that money. Get Jack ‘Em Up renovated and hopefully established as a reputable custom car restoration shop. Pay off the house. Take Dee to Tahoe like I’d promised years ago . . .
She shifted and laid her head on my chest. “Quit thinking so loud.”
I chuckled. “Sorry.”
She glanced up at me. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. Just . . . thinking.”
“About the garage?”
I winced. Busted. She knew me too well. “Sorry. I know this is our day.”
She patted my cheek. “I also know you can’t help yourself.”
“I guess you’re right.”
She reached over and paused the movie then shifted again to face me. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nah. It’s nothing big. I was just weighing my options after I sell the Porsche.”
“Options?”
“Yeah. I want to use this chance to build up the shop and its reputation, but more importantly, I want to take care of you.” I glanced down and placed a hand to her belly. “Take care of our family.” But why did it sit like a burr in my subconscious that I could sell a hundred Porsches, and it would never be enough?
She pulled away slightly. “But you do take care of me. You’ve always taken care of me.”
I traced her lip with my thumb. “You deserve better.”
Now she looked pissed. “Better than what, exactly?”
“Delilah, we both know what I mean. I’m just saying—”
“Yeah, I know. You’re just saying you’re not good enough for me. You never have been. Isn’t that right?” She jumped up and faced me down, despair written all over her face. “This is going to cycle right back to what it was before, isn’t it? Maybe not right now, but eventually. You working yourself to death to prove to God knows who that you’re anything but what you are!”
A familiar soul-eating blackness filled me. “And what exactly am I, Delilah?”
“You need to figure that out for yourself.” With that, she spun and stormed away.
Delilah
What the hell was I doing? I closed myself into our bedroom and plopped onto the bed. The scent of Blake and sex filled the room and I groaned. How could the grown man still be a hurting little boy? Why couldn’t he see, really see? And what could I possibly do about it?
Not a damn thing.
Blake had to figure out how to love himself. I couldn’t love him for the both of us anymore. It was just too exhausting.
A few minutes later, the front door slammed and I shivered, hating that I’d let our Sunday be ruined. Why did I have to bring that crap up? Be so touchy?
Because it was a vicious, never-ending cycle that I’d been living with for ten years. It had to stop.
I forced myself to rise and headed for the bathroom, where I ran a hot bath to soak my worries away. I didn’t care that we’d already showered . . . thick, murky emotion was sticking to my skin and all I wanted was to be clean.
I scrubbed then sat in the water until it was nearly cold and my fingers pruned. I drug myself out and dried off, wondering where Blake had gone. As if I didn’t know. That damn shop had become my pride and the bane of my existence in equal measure.
My phone chirped from the other room and I rushed to grab it, hoping it was Blake. Nope. Rachel.
Hey girl! Plans 2nite?
I sighed and debated ignoring her or begging off, but something prodded me on. None, I typed back.
Blake?
Not home
Nothing for a few seconds. Then, Wanna go to funky monkey? I’ll buy u a Shirley Temple : )
Plopping down on the bed, I debated. Sit home and mope or try to have a little fun with my bestie? She won. I’ll hold u 2 that
Really?
Yup
Sweet! I’ll c u there at 7?
It’s a date
It’s a date. I spent the rest of the day puttering around the house and doing chores until it was time to get dressed to meet Rach. I shoved aside my buzzing thoughts that wanted to continuously circle back to the argument with Blake. Where he was . . . why he hadn’t come home or called.
“Ugh!” Disgusted with myself, I flung my favorite jeans on the bed and decided to dress for a good time. Fake it ‘til I make it.
I added a form-fitting blue sweater that I knew made my chest look good and my high-heeled boots, threw my hair up and dabbed on some perfume, then it was time to go.
My phone buzzed from the recesses of my purse and I plucked it out, my heart pounding, wondering if it was . . .
Where u at woman?
Rachel. I tried not to be disappointed.
On my way, I texted back quickly, grabbing my keys and heading out before I could get any more pathetic.
I pulled into the Funky Monkey and the parking lot was pretty crowded for a Sunday night. I found a spot near the back of the lot and made my way in. Live music and the scents of liquor and someone’s heavy cologne mingled with the body heat.
I smiled at some familiar faces, including the new bartender—Tori?—and wound my way through the crowd to find Rachel in her usual spot.
She smiled broadly at me and rose to hug me. “Hey, girlfriend! Thanks for coming.”
Some of my stress melted in her embrace and I pulled back to sit next to her on a high barstool. “Thanks for asking.”