“Mariss, come back to me.” He stroked her shoulder, down her arm, and took her hand in his. “I know you're hurting. Come back. Let me help you.”
She shook her head. “I feel nothing.” Her voice was monotone. Mariss turned away and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door.
For the longest time, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to recognize herself, but she couldn't. Her eyes were a dull, colorless grey. Her hair hung in limp, wirey strands about her shoulders. Even with all the rain, it wasn't the right texture. Her cheek bones were different as well, sunken and callow. She was fracturing. She knew it, but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't stop it and had no desire to do so. She hadn't realized the toll this last year had taken on her.
Knocking on the door brought her eyes up. A bruised body that looked starved, even after carrying a child only recently.
“I'm busy.”
Mariss reached for the razor in the cup on the sink. She didn't expect Sebastian to be the kind to use a dispossable razor, but then, it was pink. It was probably Brenda's. Or maybe he'd been with Nora recently. Who knew? Who cared? As she removed the cap and dropped it in the sink, she stopped to think that it might not be sanitary. Lifting it to eye level, she inspected it for a moment before holding it under warm water from the faucet.
“Mariss, I'm coming in.”
“Just give me a moment,” she said in a deatached voice. “I'll be right out.”
Tapping the razor on the edge of the sink to dispell the excess water, she pressed it against the skin of her wrist. Sebastian would probably get mad if she bled on his floor. After a moment's thought, she reached under the sink for a towel and laid it across the counter. Resting her arm on it, she pressed the razor to her skin once more. She dragged it across, feeling its sharp bite. Blood bloomed in the wound.
“What the bloody hell?” Sebastian shouted as he ripped the razor from her grasp a tossed it into the shower. Mariss followed the movement with her eyes, irritated.
With his arm fixed around her hips, the other gripping the towel tight around her bleeding wrist, Sebastian pulled her from the bathroom, slamming the door.
“What are you doing? Mariss, what the bloody hell are you doing?”
Without answering, Mariss shoved past him and reached for the doorknob. But the door was locked. From the inside. She banged on it with her fists.
“Let me in!” she screamed. “Let me in!”
Rage bubbled up from deep inside her and, with it, a small piece of herself. If it was possible to have any of her present without feeling the pain, she'd allow it, but it wasn't.
She screamed, wordless and furious at Sebastian for ruining whatever it was she'd been planning. She screamed as shame reached the surface, however miniscule, at the prospect of hurting herself. And with that, came another part of her. The part that needed revenge.
When the bathroom door wouldn't open, Mariss launched herself at Sebastian, her rage fueling her past all reason. Someone needed to suffer, and if she couldn't, she would make him suffer for ruining it.
Sebastian's shocked face registered seconds before her body and fists connected with him. She hit him hard, driving him back several steps and pounding at his chest. Her fists made hollow thumps against him as he struggled to grab hold of her. A dull ache started low in her belly. As it rose through her, it grew, ripping her to pieces. It forced its way through her chest and out her throat in the form of a ragged, pain-filled, angry scream that tore at her throat. She let it come. Tears coursed down her cheeks, her skin flamed until she knew her face was blood red, but Sebastian wouldn't let her go. He held to her wrists as she screamed everything she'd been holding onto. Everything that mattered was gone.
When her voice was ragged and broken, she sank to her knees. Sobs wracked her body and it hurt, but not as much as the pain that came from her shattered heart. Sebastian's warmth and scent was right there with her. He gathered her into his arms, holding her against his chest. She listened to his heart beat as her body shook in violent sobs.
“Stay with me,” he pleaded. “Don't disappear again.”
“I don't want to be here!” she shouted. Sebastian stiffened against her, but he didn't pull away.
The pain was so great that Mariss feared her chest might explode. Her sobs became strangled sounds as she fought for air. Sebastian finally leaned away and looked into her face, his own awash with concern.
“I don't want to be here.” Mariss pleaded with her eyes, begged him to understand. “It hurts too much.”
Sebastian nodded. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Let me take care of you.”
Mariss shook her head, but she rose up on her knees, pressing her lips fiercly against his. At the contact, her body reacted and her mind told her that this was what she needed - physical, emotional contact - to ground her. Sebastian kissed her back. She expected him to be hesitant and wary, but instead, he kissed her with a need she'd never known. His lips feasted on hers, his teeth nipped and tugged and pulled, causing pain that felt so good. She pressed her naked body against his, felt his heat through his clothes.
“Take care of me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Like you did the last time.”
Sebastian needed no other urging. While his mouth continued to take hers, he worked his tie from his neck, flinging the scrap of cloth away. Then his fingers flew down his shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it from his waistband so he could cast it off. He gripped the neck of his undershirt and with a grunt, tearing rent the air.
Mariss responded with a grunt of her own as the tattered garment fell to the floor. Sebastian pulled her to her feet so he could shimmy out of his trousers, never breaking the contact between them. When he was as naked as she was, he pulled her back down to the carpet. Laying her back, he found her opening, and bracing himself on the carpet with one hand, the other tucked behind her back, he thrust into her.
She found she was more ready for him than she'd realized. She tipped her head back against the floor, but instead of a moan of satisfaction, a sob worked its way from her throat. Guilt wracked her. How could she enjoy herself with this man when the man she loved and the child she bore would never be in her arms again?
“Come back,” Sebastian cooed, though his voice was laced with strain. “Don't leave me.” With his hand fisted in her hair, he pulled her eyes up to meet his. “Don't leave me.”
Mariss stared into his eyes, once again the beautiful color she loved, and realized that was how she could be here. Because she loved this man as much as she'd loved her husband, and that was okay. More tears flowed as she realized that Holden had known this would happen. He had known that, with his death she would begin to love Sebastian, and it was okay. He'd given his blessing that day in the hospital, just before he left her forever. So she looked up into Sebastian's face, and though she cried for what she'd lost, she let herself be content with what she still had.
Sebastian grunted over her and thrust hard. Mariss cried out as he hit a place deep inside her that both hurt and sent electricity dancing along her skin. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled herself up so their lips were almost touching. Instead of kissing him, she went for his shoulder, biting down on the muscled flesh as her orgasm raced through her, sending her body into a fit of pleasured convulsions. Her undoing was his. Sebastian came inside her, his own body collapsing on top of her with the force of it. He couldn't stop the, “Oh god,” that whispered softly from his lips.
They lay there in each others arms, wordless and panting. Never in all her life had Mariss disappeared so deeply inside herself before and no one had ever brought her back from that hideous place like Sebastian could.
She lifted his head, her hands framing his face, and placed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered through tears. A small, haunted smile made his lips twitch and she kissed him again.
“Never, ever do that to me again,” he said. “Or I'll flog you.”
“It's a deal,”
she promised.
They lay there a long time with Sebastian absently stroking her hair. Mariss cried several more times before she was ready to move from their place on the floor.
“I have an appointment with my therapist,” she said quietly. “Do you still want to come with me?”
“Hm. Yes, I think so.” Sebastian's fingers pulled through her hair. “Are you alright?”
“No. No, I'm not,” she admitted, “but I'm better than I was before.” She couldn't find the words to express her gratitude to him, so she didn't say anything.
“You need a shower before you go anywhere.” Sebastian pushed himself up. He dug through his trouser pockets until he produced a key to unlock the bathroom door. He emerged moments later, the pink razor in his hand. Mariss watched his tight, bare ass walk out of the room, then she pushed herself up.
A distinct, bloody handprint marred the carpet next to where her head had been. It was far too big to be hers. Sebastian must have purposefully covered it with his body when they were laying there.
Mariss glanced down at her wrist. It was no longer bleeding, but was smeered with blood. What the hell had she been thinking? It was going to be hell trying to keep that covered up.
She heard Sebastian come back into the room.
“I ruined your carpet,” she said absently.
“It's not important. I can have the carpet taken care of. Come. Get up and get in the shower. I'm going to bathe you and I may take you again. Looking at you naked is making me randy.”
Mariss smirked, but it quickly faded when she saw the deep red tint of Sebastian's hand. There was blood smeared on his chest that he'd tried to wipe off, but he hadn't got it all. She shook her head.
“I'm so sorry, Bassy.” The words were barely a whisper. “You know that wasn't me, right? I would never do this if I was…” She held up her wrist and closed her eyes. “If I was in my right mind.”
“I know. It's alright. I understand. I do.” He turned her by her shoulders and gave her a gentle shove into the bathroom. “Do you want me to discuss this with your therapist?”
Mariss nodded. “You tell him whatever you feel you need to. Don't worry about me.”
Sebastian reached around her to turn on the shower.
“I need to know when you're teetering on the edge of this thing if I'm going to help you, Mariss,” he admonished. “You scared me to death.”
“I'm sorry,” she muttered again. It took another nudge from Sebastian to get her under the spray. The water stung her arm, but she let it, feeling the pain that came with life. This was the second time Sebastian had pulled her back from the darkest pits of despair. She owed him her life.
Sebastian gripped her wrist and rubbed the dried blood away. Then he soaped a louffa with his spicy cinnamon bodywash and handed it to her.
“Get the spots I missed.” He winked, that Boa charm seeping through the horror of the day.
Mariss lathered his chest.
“How have I never done this before?” she asked.
“I don't know, but I rather like it. I think you're going to have to do this more often.”
She smiled as she worked her way down his hard, ridged stomach, past his belly button and the hair that trickled down to his groin. Sebastian spread his legs a little wider. She looked up at him. His eyes danced with amusement, he corner of his mouth twitched with suppressed laughter.
“Don't laugh at me,” she snapped.
“Have you forgotten what to do there?” he teased.
“Squeeze and pull?” she retorted.
Sebastians whole body twitched like he was afraid she really would. Mariss chuckled and set to cleansing him of their emotional trist. He jumped when she touched him.
“I'm not going to do anything,” she laughed.
Sebastian took her chin in his hand and lifted her eyes to his.
“I needed to see you smile.”
She nodded. “You make me want to smile.”
That was the truth and she wouldn't be ashamed of it anymore.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
A SPRING WEDDING
Brit's wedding was small, as neither she nor Brett had large families and working for Mariss kept Brit pretty busy. Most of her friends worked in the office or for Red Wife in some capacity. As the bride walked down the aisle toward them, Mariss smiled.
It was May and the weather was perfect. Though her heart was still tender, she had Sebastian and her two best friends to keep her sane. Not to mention, focusing so much energy on making sure Brit's wedding turned out perfect helped.
Sebastian sat on the front row, a seat of honor Brit had reserved for him for saving Mariss' life. He'd made sure to tell Juliet and Brit so that, when she went back to work they could keep an eye on her. He smiled at her now, his tropical bue eyes frozen on her. He hadn't looked away since she first walked in and took her place as the Maid of Honor.
“Dearly beloved,” the officiant began as Brit came to stand in front of them.
The ceremony was short and sweet. There were no special numbers or readings. As a matter of fact, Brit had expressly forbidden Mariss to give a speech at the reception for fear that she might out some of her dark, dirty secrets.
Later, during the cocktail hour, Mariss ducked into an empty room to take a breather. She didn't think anyone had seen her. For the first time that day, she let herself cry, just enough to mess up her makeup. Overwhelmed with happiness and despair, she felt she deserved a small breakdown before she went back out to join the festivities.
“Mariss, sweetheart?” Sebastian called softly.
Mariss turned to look at him as she wiped her tears away.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She nodded. “Who else saw me?”
“Just me,” he said. He offered his hand and she took it without hesitation. “Join me for cocktail hour. We'll have a few drinks and make fun of the horrid outfits. I promised Brit I would keep you so busy you didn't have time to cry.”
Mariss smiled and he smiled right back, giving her one of his most self-aware grins.
“I'll take good care of you, sweetheart.”
Mariss laughed. “I bet you tell all the ladies that.”
“I most certainly do.” He winked and pulled her from the room. “What would you like to drink? I'll have the bartender make you anything you like.”
“I don't care. Surprise me. Something sweet and fruity.”
“Hm.” When they got to the bar, Sebastian told the woman behind the counter, “I'll have Bourbon and a Wassail Punch for Mrs. Red.”
“What's that?” Mariss asked.
“It's a Christmas drink.”
“Sebastian, it's not Christmas.”
“It will be in a few months.”
“Uhm, yeah. Try seven.”
Sebastian shrugged. “It has cloves and cinnamon, and orange, lemon, and apple juices. You'll like it if you like the way my bodywash smells.”
Mariss laughed. “Well, I think that's a no-brainer.
“What was it you said? I smelled like something on a cracker?”
“Hot testosterone on a cracker,” she giggled.
“That was it.”
Mariss took her drink when it was handed to her and tasted it. Christmas was precisely the right word to use to describe it.
“Do you like it?” he asked as they found a table to sit at.
“It makes me want to go a-wassailin'.”
Sebastian chuckled, the sound light and happy. His eyes crinkled at the corners and Mariss could see he was enjoying himself. He crossed one ankle over his knee and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa.
As cocktail hour progressed, Sebastian bought Mariss a couple more drinks and a few shots.
“You alright?” he asked when she started giggling.
“Do you see that lady over there?” Mariss asked. When he nodded she said, “We published her book a few years ago. When she heard Brit was getting married she invited herself. She thinks she and Bri
t are besties, but Brit can't stand her.”
“I can't imagine why not. Her lycra trousers are to die for.”
Mariss cackled, drawing several curious stares from those around them. “They aren't lycra.”
“I assure you, they are. You're talking to me, here. I know lycra when I see it. Comes into my club all the time.”
Mariss giggled. “Well, then I have lycra pants.”
Sebastian's stare pulled another loud laugh from her.
“I'd like to see those. I'd also like to know why you have lycra trousers.”
“I bought them for a costume for a lauch party,” she laughed. When she looked over at him, he was staring down into his drink. He tossed the rest of it back and set the glass on the table.
“What's wrong?” she asked him.
“Nothing.” He smiled at her, but it was lack luster.
“I expected an inappropriate comment for that and I got nothing. What's up?”
Sebastian pursed his lips. “I highly doubt that right now is the appropriate time for me to make my usual filthy, though witty conversation.”
“I don't want to be babied, Sebastian. For right now, I just want to pretend everything is okay. That my life isn't falling apart.”
“Fair enough. But tonight, I'm going to be what you need. A friend. Nothing more.”
Mariss nodded. “Well, then, Mr. Friend. I need another drink, STAT.”
“I think you're good for now. You still have to walk into the reception and I don't want you breaking an ankle on those shoes. On top of everything else, I don't think that's an injury we want to add.”
Mariss huffed. “Fine.”
A few moments later, the bridesmaids and groomsmen were called to line up.
As Mariss watched her best friend dance her first dance with her new husband six years ago, Mariss couldn't help thinking back to the day she'd married Holden. The happiness they'd shared and their years together were worth the pain she felt now. It would take some time, she didn't know if she'd ever be okay, but she'd move on. Holden would want her to be happy, no matter what she decided to do with her life.
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