“I c-can’t this w-weekend.”
Everett’s face flashed with a frown. “We’ll get Marcus to do the talking in the meetings. You don’t have to worry about that.” His kind smile did nothing to dull the insult.
I ignored its bruising effect and tried again. “That’s g-gonna t-take me s-s-some time to p-put together.”
“I know. That’s why I’m giving you the weekend.”
“B-but…”
“Is there a problem, son?” he snapped, impatience radiating from his scowl.
I should have said yes. I should have stuttered my way through a passionate argument about needing to be with my wife. But I sucked at those. So instead, I thanked him for the opportunity then shuffled my ass out of that office, work piled so high around me I couldn’t see through it.
Stepping into the elevator with a heavy sigh, I checked my watch. “Shit.”
I wouldn’t make my flight. As soon as I reached my office, I called Sarah.
“Hey.” Her voice was bright. “Are you at the airport?”
“I got caught up in meetings. I’m not going to make it.”
There was a chilling pause before she quietly squeaked, “Okay.”
Guilt doused me, setting off a quick fire in my belly that threatened to turn my legs to ash.
I flopped into my chair. “So, um…” I scratched my eyebrow. “I’ll try to make it tomorrow?”
Did I mean that? Or was I quietly hoping she’d give me an easy out?
She didn’t.
Instead, she used that low, sweet tone that worked like a sucker punch. “You said you’d come, Justin.”
“I will. I…just have a lot on my plate right now.” Her silent response sent my singed gut into a spiral. “Sparks, come on.”
“I have to go. It’s crazy here. Last-minute stuff. You know how it is. Good luck with your workload.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised, hoping to suck that disappointment from her tone.
“Yeah. See ya.”
She didn’t believe me.
Hell, I barely did.
After hanging up, I punched in the airline number with a sharp sigh then rebooked my flight to Vegas. If I pulled an all-nighter, I could hopefully fit in the work and still keep my wife happy.
Who was I kidding?
I hadn’t made my wife happy since Blake died.
I never expected the hole he left behind to be quite so big. There was no warning for that kind of thing. You don’t expect to lose your best friend at the age of twenty-two. No one could have prepared me for the aching sadness and guilt so mind-numbing it threatened to swallow me whole.
In that moment, I felt like I couldn’t be anything to anybody.
And it made me want to shut down completely.
Chapter Eleven
Sarah
The show was a huge success. People loved Echelon’s new line, and my stuff received the kind of praise I’d always dreamed of. I got to stand on stage with Enrique and the other designers. We bowed together and waved at the cameras. The models gathered around us, glowing at the success of it all. What a dream—glitz, glamor, success, praise… and I couldn’t even manage a genuine smile.
The seat I’d reserved for Justin sat vacant the entire show. I peeked out every time I sent a new model down the catwalk. And every time, his empty seat stuck out as if there were a spotlight on it. His broken promises felt like bullet wounds. There was a time he would have dropped everything to be with me. I used to be his number one priority…and now I was his last.
Work. That was all he freaking cared about.
A mellow jazz band played in the corner of the party room. It was a massive ballroom on the ground floor of The Venetian. It was filled with smiles, expensive clothes, and champagne glasses. Waiters circulated the room, serving drinks and nibbles—fancy food art that you could eat in one bite.
I shook my head at an approaching waiter. I wasn’t hungry. Jules stood beside me, flirting with some guy he’d just met. I shuffled away from them and found myself next to Michael. He smiled down at me, holding up his champagne glass so I could clink mine against his.
“Good job tonight. You were amazing.”
“So were you.” I tipped my head.
His eyes warmed before skimming down my body. I was in a dark turquoise dress Jules made. The bodice consisted of two thick strips that covered each breast and were secured with a beaded piece of fabric that circled my neck. The skirt rippled around my body, ending mid-thigh and giving the dress a cute, party feel. I’d paired it with some elegant, open-toe heels that gave my short frame another five inches. It was probably one of my sexier outfits, but Enrique had stressed how good he’d wanted us to look, and Jules had been very convincing.
I probably shouldn’t have enjoyed Michael’s gaze so much. It just felt like such a compliment after my husband had rejected me. Michael was a married man, so his brief admiration didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. His wife was back in New York, looking after their babies. I just wanted to take it for what it was. I looked hot, and he noticed.
The band started playing “Girl Put Your Records On,” so I turned to watch the singer step up to the mic. Her long fingers curved around the stand while her shapely body swayed to the beat. Her fitted leopard-skin dress and six-inch heels elongated her legs, made her breasts pop, and turned the woman into a sexy diva. If she’d put that outfit together herself, she sure knew how to look good. And that voice, so rich and powerful—like Ella Fitzgerald or Aretha Franklin. I could have listened to it all night.
“Wonderful job tonight, young lady.” A woman I didn’t know approached me with a dazzling smile. I shook her hand and thanked her.
Enrique hovered behind her sparkly dress, giving me signals that told me to impress the woman. So, I did my best, putting on the show I was so good at. She laughed at my compliments on her gown then told me I was the sweetest thing. Michael pitched in with a few comments that made her blush.
After ten minutes of painful schmoozing, she glided away on Enrique’s arm to flirt with someone else. I’d forgotten her name by the time she reached them. Michael’s eyes bulged at me, and I gave him a halfhearted smile and sipped my champagne. Exhaustion tugged at me. I hadn’t slept well the night before; nerves about the show and disappointment over my husband’s no-show made it impossible to relax.
I didn’t really feel like partying either. If I was honest, all I wanted was Justin’s arms around me, to be transported back to that little hotel in Brighton where we spent the day making love. Back to a time where the world was perfect and my husband still wanted me.
Tears threatened to sear my eyeballs and make my mascara run, so I stepped toward the door.
“You okay?” Michael called after me.
“Fine.” I shone him what I hoped was a believable smile before slipping from the room.
My heels sank into the plush carpet as I strode through the casino. The gaming floor felt like a quiet oasis compared to the packed fanfare of the Echelon event. I was sick of the plastic-coated conversation and trying to put on a brave face when all I felt like doing was drowning in a tub full of tears. I wandered beneath the opulent chandeliers, around the blackjack tables, and past the roulette wheels until I spotted a dimly lit bar.
“Don’t Know Why” by Norah Jones oozed from the hidden speakers, and I let the words coat me. A mixture of anger and sadness swirled inside my stomach. Why hadn’t Justin come? Why did he keep hiding from me?
I slid onto one of the padded stools and smiled at the waiter.
He rested his arms on the bar and grinned. “What can I get you, sweetie?”
“Just a house white, thanks.”
“Gotcha.” He winked and moved to fill my order. He reminded me a little of Blake, that easy charisma and charm. He had a similar physique to Justin and really suited the fitted dress pants and white shirt rolled up to his elbows. It showed off the muscles of his forearms.
I remembered lying in bed with Jus
tin, tracing those muscles. I used to love the way they moved when he touched me, the shift and pull while his fingers worked their magic inside me. I’d trail my hands up and down his arm before clutching him and crying out.
Opening my purse, I checked my phone and noticed a message from Justin. My nose tingled as I dialed my voicemail.
“I’m so, so sorry, Sparks. I pulled an all-nighter and fell asleep. I missed my flight again. Call me as soon as you get this, okay? I’m sorry.” He sounded cut-up enough.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my simmering anger away then lifted the phone back to my ear when it started ringing.
“Hey.” Justin sounded tired, his voice husky and deep.
“Hi.” I didn’t know what to say to him. Gone were the days of conversation where two hours could slip by without us noticing.
“How was the show?”
“Good,” I clipped. “Huge success.”
“I knew it would be.” I could hear the smile in his voice but struggled to match it.
Instead, I gave him a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he whispered. “I’m so snowed under right now. But I should have been there.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I shrugged. “I get it. Work’s insane for me too.”
“I let you down.”
The words yeah, you did sat on my tongue, but I closed my lips over them. He’d spent his life feeling that way, and I wasn’t going to jump on his parents’ bandwagon with stupidly high expectations that could never be reached. Since Blake died, Justin seemed even more obsessed with becoming the perfect child. It was painful to watch.
I flicked my hair over my shoulder and rested my elbows on the bar. “Did you get through all your work?”
“I got lumped with a whole new project on Friday afternoon. I’ve been going all day.”
“Are you sure you can’t still come?” My voice pitched on the last word, hope making it higher than usual. “My room is gorgeous, and we could spend tomorrow together. Remember how we used to spend all day in bed… That seaside hotel in England?”
His silence told me everything I needed to know, but I put in one last-ditch effort anyway. I didn’t realize how desperate I’d been feeling.
“Come on, if you leave for the airport right now, you could be here by midnight. I’ll wait up for you. You can work on the plane.”
“This is a really important opportunity your dad’s given me, Sarah. I can’t just drop the ball. This has to be perfect.”
I clenched my jaw, my nose twitching as I willed myself not to cry.
“I, um…you know, if I work really hard tonight and tomorrow before you get back, I’ll be all yours when you return. Let’s have dinner together tomorrow night. I could take you out. Once all my work’s done, I’ll be more relaxed.”
No, you won’t.
Tears burned my eyes. I looked to the ceiling in an attempt to fight them. Pressing my trembling lips together, I bobbed my head and replied, “Yeah, sounds nice.”
He knew it wasn’t enough. We both did.
But neither of us could say it.
“I love you, Sarah.”
“Love you too.” I hung up before he heard the tears in my voice.
How could words that mean so much sound so hollow?
We’d been saying them to each other for years, meaning it with every fiber of our being. And now I wasn’t sure if love could even hold us together.
Our wedding anniversary was just around the corner, and I didn’t even know if we were going to celebrate it. What was there to celebrate?
So far, our marriage had consisted of two perfect weeks, followed by tragedy, silence, emptiness, loneliness, living around each other like we were scared to get too close and actually feel something.
Justin and I had been using work as the excuse for everything. We’d been hiding away in our own little worlds. This Vegas weekend would have been my chance to open up and be honest with him. I’d been prepping myself to lay it all bare, tell him how much I needed him. How much I missed him.
He knew it. He saw the look on my face when I first invited him.
Yet he backed away. He fell asleep.
Once again, he used work as an excuse not to fix us.
Tears slid down my cheeks without me noticing. The bartender set down my glass with a kind smile. I looked at the pale yellow liquid and shook my head.
“Actually, can I have a shot of vodka instead?”
His mouth tugged up at the side. “Sure thing, gorgeous.”
Drumming my fingers on the bar, I waited for my drink, yearning for a taste of oblivion. If I couldn’t have sex with my husband, I might as well get rip-roaring drunk.
Chapter Twelve
Justin
Spend the day in bed together.
That’s what she’d wanted to do.
She never outright said it, but I knew her well enough to know what she meant. I wouldn’t be flying to Vegas to check out the sights. I’d be flying to Vegas to try and make up for the last few months of dry-docking. She wanted us tangled in the sheets, body painting each other with invisible ink.
I wished I could tell her what her touch did to me. I wished I could voice the truth that every time I slipped inside her, I was hit with a scarring image of my brother’s mangled body in that damn ditch. I should have been there for him. It had been his wedding day. He’d been edgy and distracted…in no condition to ride a motorbike, especially the way he rode one.
I didn’t know if I could ever get over the fact that while I was orgasming, Blake was bleeding out.
I didn’t deserve sex anymore. Especially after the last time.
I didn’t deserve Sarah’s affection.
It should have been me on that road. Blake had always been the better man, yet he was the one taken.
How could I tell Sarah any of that? How I could excuse the way I behaved the last time I couldn’t resist her?
Her cry of pain would live in my mind forever—taunting me, reminding me that I should have been the dead man. I’d thrust too deep, taken her too hard in an attempt to drive thoughts of a sunken skull and lifeless eyes from my mind. I’d used her body like some kind of sick therapy and ended up hurting her.
I’d wanted to apologize, beg for her forgiveness, but I hadn’t been able to voice any of it. I couldn’t admit how I really felt, or what was going on in my mind when I should have been enjoying her body.
I didn’t want her sharing the guilt that swamped me every day. If I told her that sex took me right back to Blake’s death, would she take onboard what I was feeling? If she hadn’t considered it yet, I didn’t want her thinking about the fact we were moaning in ecstasy while Blake was inhaling his last breath.
The best I could do was work hard and try to prove myself worthy of life. I was getting my law degree for my parents and working my ass off for my father-in-law.
But what was I doing for Sarah?
Fisting my curls with a sigh, I brought up her image on my phone. I’d taken it our senior year, the day she’d been offered the job at Echelon Fashion. She’d been radiant, and I’d captured her astounded joy perfectly.
I did remember that day at our seaside hotel in Brighton, England. Sarah’s body was a wonderland, and I’d explored every inch of it. We’d been together for a while, so I already knew what made her high, but throughout our honeymoon, I took the time to drive her to a new plane. I don’t know how many times we’d had sex that particular day, but we’d both fallen asleep completely sated…and were still up for more the next morning. I couldn’t get enough of her back then.
I wanted more of her now, but the brain is a powerful weapon and Blake’s death was tearing me away from the thing I craved most—my wife.
I needed to make it right.
Hell, I probably needed to tell her what was holding me back. Maybe talking would fix this. If I sold it right, I could protect her from any kind of guilt, and then we could get back to being the newlyweds we were supposed to be.
/> Dropping my phone, I pulled my chair closer to my desk and got back to work. Motivation fueled my energy. I was finishing those damn contracts before midnight then I was going to bed, getting a decent night’s sleep and waking up refreshed so I could spend Sunday cleaning the house, cooking Sarah’s favorite meal, and making sure that when she walked in our door, she knew exactly how much I loved her.
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah
The light in the room was dim, but the cracks of light peeking down the edge of the heavy drapes told me it was morning. My head crashed like a cymbal, the aching, foggy pain enough to make me seek oblivion again. I closed my eyes and softly groaned.
My mouth felt thick and crusty. My eyelids had been replaced with a dense kind of metal that was hard to manipulate. My insides acted like the Sahara Desert.
“Water,” my mind croaked.
I rubbed my forehead with shaky fingers, internally lecturing myself about the evils of alcohol. Drinking my sorrows away was never a good idea. To be honest, I’d never taken it that far before. Justin had always been there to stop me from being stupid.
Justin.
I rubbed my eyes. The pain I had been trying to escape the night before landed back on me tenfold. Rolling to my side, I tucked my hand under my chin, trying to escape the train wreck of thoughts screaming at me. How was I supposed to go home and face him? What would we say to each other?
“Would he even be home?” I inwardly grumbled, the bitterness tasting sharp and tangy in my mind.
I sighed. I didn’t want to be like that. I couldn’t lie there grumbling about my failing marriage and turning into a sniveling little whiner. I needed to get home, sit Justin down, and have an honest conversation with him.
We couldn’t keep going the way we were. Something had to let up. We had to start committing some time to working on our relationship. I’d just have to say it to him straight.
Justin, this isn’t working. We need to make some changes and get back on track. I love you, and I’m not willing to throw away our marriage.
Rough Water (Songbird #7) Page 6