Return to Love

by Yasmin Sullivan

  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him, but she wrangled against him.

  “There was no child,” she repeated, lashing at his chest with her fists. It was like a dam had broken, as though she couldn’t stop herself once she’d started letting it out. She kept pummeling his chest with her fists as if it was his fault, or maybe because he’d been the one to make her say it, relive it. “And you weren’t there.”

  She drew back after she said it—the truth of it all. She had tears spilling down her face, and her fists were still balled, ready to strike. Her eyes were red and wet, filled with rage and hate. And now he knew why.

  Regina kept hammering at him, as if she wanted to pound him until all the hurt she had carried over the years was finally over. But when she stood back and looked up at his face, what she saw there stopped her. Nigel wondered if she could see that the disappointment in his eyes was as bottomless as her own heartbreak must have been. Nigel knew the moment that the resistance went out of her and stepped toward her, folding her in his arms again.

  “When I saw the kids downstairs—”

  He wanted to go on, but he couldn’t control his voice.

  For a while she didn’t say anything but simply sobbed against his chest.

  When she found her voice, it was shaky. “I was babysitting. Kyle belongs to Jason, and Tenisha to another friend. They’re not related, and they’re not even the same age. Kyle is five and a half, and Tenisha is seven.”

  After she got the words out, she convulsed in tears again.

  He just held her while she wept.

  When he thought she was back in control, he ventured, “What happened...to ours?”

  For a few moments, she cried harder. Then she took in a deep breath.

  “I lost it. I miscarried.”

  She broke from him and went to the window, trying to wipe her face with her hands.

  “And guess when. Guess.”

  Her tone was sardonic, but she was still fighting back her tears.

  “On the day that would have been our wedding day,” she said.

  He went to her and wrapped his arms around her again, but she fought him. “No. You weren’t there. You weren’t there.”

  She hit at his shoulders with her open palms, her body racked by sobs.

  He pulled her into his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “Please. I didn’t know.”

  “You should have known. You should have been there.”

  “You sent me away, Reggie.”

  She was silent, tears still streaming down her face. He held her and rubbed her back until her body shook less. He smoothed her hair and kissed her temples until her tears abated some. He ignored her periodic attempts to rustle from his arms.

  When she had stilled, he pulled her chin up to look at her, to see that she was all right. Her eyes were red from crying, and her lips were tender from being pressed so hard together. He wanted to drain the redness from her eyes and soothe the pain out of her expression.

  “I’m so sorry, Reggie, so sorry.”

  He folded her against his chest and ran his hand down her back. In the quiet, he could feel the way her body pressed against his in the embrace. He wanted to feel that forever. He wanted to make her his again.

  This time when he pulled her face up to his, he bent down, softly kissing her lips. He wanted to turn back time, to undo the hurt he’d caused, to be there when he should have been there.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  She said nothing, but she didn’t move from his arms either.

  He bent his head to the side of her face and kissed her eyelid, her cheek, her earlobe. Then he cupped her head and took her mouth with his, parting her lips with his own and claiming her breath.

  He felt her hands tighten around his upper arms and knew that her body was responding. He wanted to assuage the hurt inside her with his lips, pacify the anger out of her with his fingertips.

  When he moved his tongue into her mouth, it opened for him, and a quiet murmur escaped into his mouth, igniting fire inside of him. She took a small step back, but he stepped with her, closing the gap between them before she could make it. He claimed her hips with his hands and pressed her against his loins. She sucked in her breath and then another murmur filled his mouth.

  She put her arms around his neck, and her tongue played against his, inviting him deeper inside. He could read her desire. He had always been able to. It was clear that she was starting to want him the way he wanted her.

  Nigel could sense the battle being waged inside Regina. The years of hurt and anger, of bearing the burden alone, were at odds with everything else that was happening between them. He wanted for everything else to win.

  “Let me be there for you now,” he whispered against her lips.

  Then he reclaimed her mouth, running his hands along her back. He couldn’t resist cupping her bottom and pulling her closer, and when he did, he felt a slight tilt of her hips as she drew nearer. He knew where she yearned, and he wanted to ease that need, even as his own grew hotter and less controllable with every passing minute.

  He bent down farther, his mouth finding her neck, and cupped her buttocks again, lifting her body against his. When he heard her low moan against his ear, he lifted her off her feet and strode toward the back of the apartment to find her bedroom.

  He expected her to stop him, but she said nothing while he eased her down on the bed and lowered himself over her, pressing his swollen groin against her sweet center. Instead, she reached for his arms and pulled him closer to her, kneading herself along his body. It had been so long for him that even this small movement sent him close to the edge, but he knew better than to let himself go. He knew that this was for her, that this was to let her know that she wasn’t alone all that time, that he was still loving her. It was to calm the sore places, to hush the anger and the rage.

  He looked at her tearstained face in the moonlight. He had been waiting for this for so long, so long. Her fingers at his back let him know that his wait would soon be over. But he wouldn’t rush to that place. This was for her.

  He settled next to her and slid his hand into her leggings. When he found the wetness of her womanhood, his loins leapt, and he heard her moan.

  Her long, sepia legs came into view as he removed her leggings, and her beautiful breasts fell into the open as he pulled the camisole over her head and undid her bra. He pulled the bow from her hair and laid her back down. He meant to take his own clothes off as well, but the sight of her pulled him back to the bed.

  When he took the closest breast into his mouth, he heard her moan. He couldn’t resist the feel of her nipple against his tongue, the feel of her wetness at his fingertips, the way her body writhed with his caresses. This was for her.

  Before he lost control, he stood up and removed his suit, his shirt, the rest of his clothes. He found a condom and got it on quickly, returning to Regina’s side on the bedspread. He kissed her, reminding himself to take it slowly. This was for her.

  He ran his hand over her body, listening for the places that made her breath heavy and feeling for the places that made her body sway toward his. He kissed her neck and pulled her leg over his thigh so that he could touch her warm, wet center again, and when he did, she let out a low, guttural moan that filled his body with need. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  When he moved between her thighs, her legs spread for him, pressing against his hips. And when he entered her, her mouth opened beneath his, drawing him in. He pressed gently toward her center, stifling his own moan and barely able to keep control. It had always been this way for him with this woman.

  She moaned as he pressed slowly inside of her. She was as tight as she had been the
first time they had been together many years ago, tighter even than he remembered. Drowning in her beauty, he found her mouth and covered it again with his own. He had to remind himself to slow down, to take his time. He had been wanting this for so long, so long. But this was for her.

  Chapter 3

  Regina got up before the sun came up. The bed next to her was empty, but she had been wrapped in the top sheet and spread. Her body was still pleasantly tender from the activity of the night before, and she was glad to have some time to collect her thoughts before beginning her day. Even more so, she was glad to have time before facing Nigel again—time to figure out what to say, how to explain that things had gotten out of hand.

  She knew she should have stopped him when he kissed her, but after the emotional roller coaster of the evening—the anger that he had come back again, the anguish over the fresh memory of the loss of their child, the unspeakable shame that she had lost it—after all of that, she needed those arms around her.

  When she had looked in his face, she had finally seen someone who understood what having and then losing their child had meant to her. And for the first time, she had just let herself cry.

  Someone could finally comprehend what she had been through, someone who felt the pain, as well. Maybe that was what had wrenched all of that turmoil to the top. Maybe that was what had made her vulnerable to his advances.

  She should have stopped him when he ran his hand up and down her back, sending tingles through her, but right then, the wounds in her had finally found a place where they could be held, and she wasn’t willing to leave that shelter. She hadn’t been touched in so long. She hadn’t had a place to unburden the past. That’s what his hands did to her. They softened the rage; they caressed the hurt.

  She should have stopped him when he carried her to her bedroom, but she hadn’t been touched with understanding in so long—the kind of understanding that made her needy and wanting. Yes, by then, she wanted it as much as he did.

  She should have stopped him, but it had always been this way between them.

  Regina kicked off the sheets and went into the bathroom to run a bath. It wasn’t her usual routine, but she had time, and it would help her calm down and think.

  He was taller than he’d been before, but mostly, he was more in control, more able to take his time, more able to respond to her body rather than running along ahead of her. This made him a different lover than the one she had known.

  Having him inside of her had felt just like the first time. He was slow and gentle. He filled her with his presence. At first, he had made long, slow thrusts, stroking the aches out of her and making her body arch off the bed. Then he had found her spots and made her eager, pushed her toward the edge.

  He had kissed her tears, lulling her sadness away, consoling her heartbreak. But he had also run his thumbs over her breasts, lighting fire in her. Between the tenderness and the flame, she wasn’t sure which was most consuming, most arousing.

  When he cupped her head in his palms and kissed her, the gentleness of his kiss had alleviated her anger and healed her bruises, but his chest moving along her breasts as he plunged inside of her made her wrap her legs around him and draw him farther inside.

  “Reggie, Reggie, I’ve missed you so much,” he had murmured over and over.

  His deep voice sent tingles down her back, and when he whispered it against her ear, her body had broken out in goose bumps, and an agonizing pressure built up at her center.

  “Tell me what you need, baby,” he had said.

  She couldn’t speak, and she just held on, clinging to his shoulders. She only needed.

  Then he had moved his hand down between them and begun to massage her while he moved inside of her, making her moan, making her grind against him, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Then the first waves of climax hit her, and her body gripped his length. He groaned and thrust against her, but waited for her full release before burying his face next to hers and bucking inside of her as he rode his own wave of orgasm. When it was over, she had turned from him, and he had pulled her back against his chest, and they had slept spooned together that way.

  Remembering the night sent arrows of heat through Regina’s body. She was letting the memory overwhelm her, when she needed to be figuring out what to do now and where they would go from here.

  Only, there was no they, and one night of passion didn’t erase six years of frustration and hurt and loneliness. It didn’t bring back their child or make their wedding happen. It didn’t turn back time.

  * * *

  Nigel had woken up early, before dawn. He couldn’t get back to sleep, but he didn’t want to wake up Regina. He thought about it—round two—but decided he had better not. His day would have to start in a bit, and he wouldn’t be able to take his time.

  He just held her for a while, smiling to himself because she was back in his arms. His happiness was tainted by the fact that their child had been lost. He still needed to deal with that, and he needed to help Regina deal with it, too. He could see how much she was still hurting, and how angry she was that he hadn’t been there. He could never make up for that, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying.

  Nigel slipped out of bed just as the sun was about to come up. He washed up as best he could, dressed and went to look for something for them to eat. He didn’t know whether she had to be up early on a Monday or what time the studio opened, but he knew he would wake her before he left. This way, they could have breakfast together. They could start their day and their lives together, start healing.

  He found her key on the counter next to her purse and drove down the street to see if any place was open. It turned out that he could have walked, because the café on the corner already had customers. He got them bagels with cream cheese, bacon and eggs, pancakes, orange juice and coffee—more than they could eat.

  When he got back, he heard her running water in the bathroom but decided not to disturb her just yet. He found a fork and sat down to his breakfast, checking out her pieces on the walls and thinking about where each one could go when they had their own place.

  Nigel caught himself imagining their life together and sighed. They had a lot of talking and healing and forgiving left to do, but he was eager to begin the journey.

  * * *

  Regina didn’t smell the bacon until she was almost finished getting dressed. Was he still there? She threw on some slacks and a top and peeked out of her bedroom.

  He smiled at her from the dining table and began moving the packages he had brought the night before to clear a space for her to sit. His smile almost turned his face into the boyish one she had known before—almost. The cheeks plumped out the way they used to, but the rougher angles remained.

  “I thought I smelled bacon...”

  “Good morning, beautiful. You did.”

  “...but I knew I didn’t have bacon in the house.”

  “No, I ran down to the corner to get us something. I hope you’re hungry because I think I overdid it. Come sit.”

  Before she could sit down, he pulled her onto his lap and into a long hug. He kissed her cheek and her forehead. He didn’t seem to notice that her body stiffened now at this touch. And before she could protest to the affection, he released her to the chair he had cleared.

  She could tell that they weren’t on the same page about last night. She wasn’t ready to broach the issue, but she knew she had to.

  “I thought you were gone,” she said.

  He must have read that hesitance in her voice as concern or disappointment because he slid his hand under her chin to pull her face toward his. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and said, “No, no way. You must think I’m a rat.”

  He let her face go and uncovered her plate and juice, smiling at her. “I know I have a lot to make up for, a lot to prove, but I w
on’t be running out ever again. I just went to get us some eats. I figured we needed it after last night, which was...amazing.”

  Regina looked at the mound of food in front of her and tried to figure out how to get them on the same page.

  “I got up early and didn’t want to wake you. I didn’t know what time you had to be up.”

  “Early.”

  “Then eat up.”

  Regina heard the mirth in Nigel’s tone when he mentioned last night. She read the possessiveness in Nigel’s eyes when he looked at her. In contrast, she couldn’t even bring herself to eat. Tired of pushing the food around on the plate, she put the fork down and just looked at it, trying to find the right words.

  He came around the table and knelt down next to her chair.

  “Hey, what’s wrong, Reggie? I know there’s hurt, but we’ll face that together now.” He put his arms around her and pulled her toward his chest. Regina tensed, not responding to the embrace.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “I think we need to talk.”

  Nigel scooted back onto his chair. He bent toward her and covered her hand with his own. “Okay. What’s going on?”

  “Last night was...”

  She saw his face drop, as if he could tell what was coming.

  “...like it used to be between us.”

  “But?”

  “But it’s just what it was.”

  “Which is?”

  “Something we both needed.”

  He let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair.

  “That’s not all it was, Reggie. Don’t you know that?”

  His voice was calm and sincere, but it had an edge that bordered on exasperation. His eyes pleaded with her to see it his way.

  “That’s all it can be. I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “But that’s what I want, Reggie—for us to spend the time getting to know one another again. You don’t have to make any decisions now. Just give it a chance.”

  Regina got up and covered her plate before taking it to the fridge. She needed to be away from his eyes for a minute, to have something to do with her hands. His eyes followed her every move.