by Leigh Lennon
I feel several tears on my cheeks as he uses his fingers to try to erase each one from my face. “I don’t want to send you away, but, Ems, you are my life, and one day, you will love the life we’ve worked so hard for.”
He doesn’t mention the baby, but I know that is whom he means. “I can’t promise you anything. It seems so bleak right now.” Bleak; is that the word I used to describe the helplessness in which I wanted to end my life less than forty-eight hours ago?
“I know, Ems, and listen, you will get better because you are the toughest badass I know.”
I laugh at him because that is one of his terms of endearments for me. He said it during my labor so many times. “Who is the hottest badass I know?” He would pause, and it irritated my doctor every time he called me this. I would never answer, but in true Tyler “the class clown” fashion, he’d say, “You are, Emma Hunter; you are the hottest and toughest badass I know.”
He tilts my head to the side, kissing me on the lips, and this time, I kiss him back. I have missed him; there is no question about that.
13
Tyler
I don’t tell Emma how quickly she’ll be leaving for LA. It was Nick’s suggestion that Kent and Ems depart straight from our house to the airport. She doesn’t want to go, but she knows if she doesn’t, I’ll have her committed.
When our lips touch for the first time in months, I don’t want to let go. I feel as if I’m back where I belong for just a second. My heart stops when Emma pulls back, and I’m left to wonder if this is all I will get from her. I need her close to me. In this little way, I know we still have a chance.
“Ty, I’m sorry. I mean, I know sorry doesn’t cut it. I don’t want to die; I really don’t. I’m lost right now.”
She stands, walking to the window, and aimlessly gazes outside. I won’t let her retreat into herself, not after she has finally admitted she doesn’t want to die. Breaking the distance between us, I wrap my arms around her slender waist, kissing the back of her neck. “Emma, if I were sick—let’s just say for shits and giggles that I had cancer. You would make sure I had the best oncologist to help me, right?” I ask.
“Of course, Ty,” she replies with a panicked look on her face.
“I’m not sick,” I assure her. “But, honey, you are, and that is what we are doing.”
She turns from me because I have used this analogy so many times. Instead of pulling away, as I thought she would, she takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom. She hasn’t initiated any affection toward me in a long time. More so, her touch stops me. It is the gentle Emma touch I fell in love with years ago. Turning to her as we enter our room, I see something in her eyes that I haven’t seen in ages. “Ems?” I ask as I desperately want to touch her, too. Fuck, do I want to touch her.
I turn around briefly to grab my iPod and start our song, something familiar that will connect her back to what we had once shared together. When “Into the Mystic” starts to play, I see how her eyes flicker with a memory of when we danced to this at our own wedding.
“Ty,” is all she says to give me the permission I need; by the way her eyes water and her mouth shows just a hint of a smile, one that has been missing from my wife’s face forever, and I melt. It is less than a second, if that, before I crash my mouth to hers. Her hand instantly finds my hardness, and without thinking, I grab her as she wraps her legs around my waist. “Ty, I need you.”
She takes the words out of my mouth because at this very moment, I have not needed anything as much as I do her now. Once we are wrapped in each other’s arms, the postpartum, the guilt she feels with Aspen, the attempted suicide, the fact she’s leaving for LA soon—it all fades away.
I place her gently on her back. Crawling onto the bed, I straddle her, taking in the sight of my wife. Over the years, her almost raven-colored hair has become a touch lighter, her deep jet black eyes still captivate me, but it is her smile, the way she tweaks her mouth just enough to look both fucking sexy and innocent all at the same time. In her smile, I can forget everything that is against us. Right now, all the shit we have in our past and ahead of us fades, and I’m left with only my wife.
“Ems, I have fucking missed you so much! You are my world.”
“Ty, I’m so sorry.” Hell, now she’s crying. I can’t have that ruining this moment, when the same Emma I fell in love with years ago is back with me.
“Shh, babe, I’m here. I’m yours. I’m going nowhere. See, as much as you have tried to push me away, I’m here.”
Again, she smiles, and this time, when it reaches her eyes, I’m a goner. The things she can do to my heart and, well, other parts of my body leave me speechless. I push her hair out of her eyes and kiss every part of her face, wiping away the tears. After that, I need to be inside of her and have the urge to take Emma roughly. And though I know she loves it when I ravage her, taking her deep and hard, she needs soft and sweet right now.
Standing up briefly, I yank her yoga pants off her while she tries to take care of her shirt and bra. Stopping her, I simply say, “I want to soak in every moment, Ems. Let me do that.” Again, she smiles at me, and my heart is truly hers again. Not that I ever wanted to admit defeat with us, but she’s giving me a glimmer of hope, one I haven’t had since Aspen was born.
I bring Emma up to me and pull her simple black top over her head and reach behind her to unclasp her bra in one fluid motion, something I have been known for. She laughs. “You haven’t lost your move, there, buddy,” she says with a bit of a flirt in her voice. The rasp in her tone is exactly how I remember her when she’s turned on. Oh, how I have missed that rasp.
“Never, babe,” I say as I urgently undress. But she stands, taking control. She slowly unbuckles my belt. Taking it from the loops very slowly, she draws out the need and the desire I have to plunge into my wife right now. But I give her this control. She needs something that is hers. As she reveals my skin millimeter by millimeter, her smile grows.
“Fuck, Ty, your body is like that of an Olympic god.” She has used this little tagline for as long as I can remember. The rasp of her voice causes my dick to stir. It has a mind of its own, and like me, Emma owns it.
I push her back gently and crawl on top of her now that both of us are naked.
Taking her large D cup boobs in my mouth, I massage the nipple with my tongue as a slight moan escapes from her. Wow, I’m turned on when I massage the other nipple with my hand, squeezing the tit with my fingers. Her hand moves to my erection, pumping it the way I like.
Before she can demand entrance, I drop my head between her legs and open those sweet lips. My head finds its way to her wet pussy, and my tongue finds that sweet spot only I know when it comes to my Emma. She starts to writhe, but the second my free hand touches her stomach, she calms at my touch, allowing her the ability to enjoy the upcoming orgasm. The more I work her clit with my tongue, the more I can feel her release building. In a matter of seconds, she’s pushed over the edge and comes all over my face. I can’t help but lap up every drop of her.
I don’t give her any time to think, though, as now I’m in front of her face. Her greedy little pussy is waiting for my entrance, and I don’t disappoint. I ram into her hard, and she smiles that sexy fucking smile again, but then I slow. I want to relish every little movement I make inside her.
Looking deep into the black irises of hers, I realize I love her more, more than I care to admit, and more than I ever thought possible. This time, Emma has given me hope.
Now that we are finally together after our time apart, we move in motion as if we were never apart. I grab her face, moving slowly and methodically, relishing every second I’m with my wife. I make her look in my eyes, and I continue to soak her in and burn this to memory.
“Ems.” I need her to know I still love her and that I still want this life with her. She needs to know I’ll do anything to make it happen, if she’ll just trust me to fight against this monster of doubt snowballing inside her. Oh, she’ll be the best
mother if that horrible beast invading my wife will disappear. We can tackle the depression and anger. Oh, she will love Aspen more than I do if that could just go away.
“Emma, sweetheart, I love you so much. You know that?”
She looks away as I continue to glide into her. I love her moans, but this is more than sex; this is reestablishing the connection we’ve had since the day I met her in Nick’s clinic. She attempts to look away from me. “You aren’t shutting down on me, Emma. You are the best part of me. Do you know that?”
Now, she has let a couple of tears float down her beautiful ivory skin. “Ty, of course, I know that because you’ve held on so tight to me when you should have let me go months ago, but I’m so glad you didn’t.”
There is that bitch—self-doubt—trying to make my beautiful, special wife question herself again.
“Emma, I’ll love you for all time. Don’t you ever fucking doubt that,” I say with emphasis on the f-bomb, making her understand by the recognition in our eyes that she’s indeed everything to me.
Just when I fear I have lost her, she grabs my cheek and makes me look at her. “I love you, too, Ty.” In these words is all I need to push me forward. I come inside her as her body quakes in another orgasm.
14
Emma
I lie in my husband’s arms in a bed I haven’t slept on in over four months. I’m cradled in the crook of his arm, rubbing my hand over his flat abdomen to feel the ridges of his six-pack. My husband has a way of making me feel loved beyond measure, and with him wrapped around me, I feel safe. I never realized until now how much I missed him and what a colossal mistake it would have been to end my life. I now feel a river releasing from my eyes. He tips my head back, and while he kisses my forehead, he asks, “What is this about, Ems?”
“I could have lost all of this.” I stop for a second, now fully understanding what I put him through. “Fuck, Ty! I could have lost you. I don’t want that.”
“You are here now, and we are going to get you the help you need.”
I scoot away in our bed, out of his warm embrace, feeling slapped and betrayed by those words because after making love like we did, he still wants to send me away? I realize what I could’ve lost, and I want to work on it here, at home, with him. “No, I realize my wrongs. I don’t need help.” He tries to pull me back, but I hop off the bed.
“What the fuck was this, Ty?” I ask, pointing at the bed, at him still naked, and all our clothes strewn through the room.
“This,” he says a little more sternly than I want to hear, “was me making love to my wife and showing her”—he points at me— “that I love her.” With him now near me, I wave him off. “But this doesn’t change the fact you need help.”
“No, I’ll get help here. I’ll even go every day. I just want to be home with you at night.”
His eyes look pained as though I stuck a dagger into him. “And, Ems, what about Aspen? You never mention her.”
Oh, yeah, my child I can’t will myself to love, look at, or even pick up. “Um …”
“Exactly, Ems. If you never wanted a baby, I could accept this, but you wanted her, hell, more than I did, if that was ever possible, and now that she’s here, you make it seem as if she’s expendable. But she’s not. She’s our daughter, and I want both my wife and child under the same roof. I want my wife to love her as I love her.”
“I can’t, Ty,” I simply say.
“And, Emma, this is where I know you too well because the Emma who was pregnant with her wanted her more than your need to breathe.” When my husband says these words to me, I understand he’s still going to send me away. His hand extends to me, silently asking me to return to him. My posture and the fact I’m not budging tell him there is no way in hell I’m doing that.
“Ems, come on, honey. Come back here.” He pats the side of the bed where I had just been nestled next to him. “Please, sweetheart. I want to love on you some more.” His deep brown eyes are begging me. I know him well and have seen this look of earnest. “Please, Ems, before we have to say our goodbyes.”
That is when what I almost threw away hits me. But anger still rages in me. All these decisions are being made for me, and sure, I get it. I scared the fuck out of everyone. No one is asking me what I need or what I want. “Goodbyes? When the hell is this?” As he starts looking away and not meeting my gaze, I know it is soon, too soon. I don’t want to say goodbye to my husband yet, but I can’t get away from him fast enough either.
“Ems, I wasn’t planning on this.” He’s now sitting naked on his side of our bed, on top of the crumpled covers, and pointing at me. “But, honey, we are here now. Fuck, I have missed you.”
“Tyler, how fucking long do I have in this house before I’m sent away?” I scream, and before he can answer, the doorbell alerts us that someone is here. When he looks at me straight in the face, I understand now our time together has come to an end. Standing up, Ty slides on some shorts and comes toward me, closing the gap between us.
A lonely tear slides down my face, and the doorbell rings again. “Better go get that,” I say.
“They will wait, Ems,” he replies, wiping a lonely tear before it reaches my lips.
“Ty, please, I promise, I’ll try, even with the baby.”
“Ems, do you hear yourself? You can’t even call her by the name we chose. For heaven’s sake, we made her in love.”
My anger now rages from deep within me as I say, “No, she was made in a test tube.”
He backs up, choking on my words. “See, the Emma I love would never say that. Regardless of how she came into existence, our love made the baby we dreamed about for years. When you couldn’t carry a baby, you told me you were a shell of a woman. Do you remember saying that?”
And the next words out of my mouth come so quick, I can’t take them back. “And because of that baby, she made me the shell of a person I am today. It’s all because of her.”
He looks at me, searching my soul. Then it’s as though he sees through me when he says, “And that is why you need help. The Emma who cried month after month when she’d start her period would never say those words.” When the doorbell rings for the third time, I think he has left me to answer it, but he leans back on the doorjamb and says, “I have packed for you already.” Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in a room that is as empty to me now as it was after I had the baby.
15
Tyler
Kent and Justine are at the door when I open it, and I’m shocked that my mother-in-law is here. I was under the impression it would just be Kent. Though, now with Justine here, she may be the only person who Emma listens to. As stubborn as my wife is, Justine is that tenfold.
“I’m only here to help take her to the airport,” she says, and in her sometimes-hardened eyes, I see tears. “This is killing Annette and Nick,” she states painfully. “As it is you, I’m sure.”
“But, Justine, with everything …” I can’t finish the sentence before she waves me off.
“I may not have raised that girl,” she says, pointing toward our room, “but when Nick came along, I inherited the love he has for her. I’m saddened and shocked and hurt by this illness gripping her, but that doesn’t mean I need to choose between Rose and Emma. Rose will be okay and …” Then the very articulate Justine doesn’t finish her sentence because we all know where it’s going.
Kent is silent and stoic by the door, not sure what to say right now. He’s a no-nonsense kind of man, and though this hurts him, he’s able to separate the feelings he has for a woman he helped raise from doing what must be done.
With the loud bang of a slamming door, I brace myself for my wife’s anger. She appears in the doorway, and by her face, she’s shocked to see Justine in our living room but doesn’t say a word. Walking straight to me, she stands as close as she can. I turn to Kent because I assume he is looking around for her suitcase. “Kent, her bag is in the guest room.”
Looking at Justine, Kent says, “We will meet yo
u outside. I’ll go through the garage to give you all some privacy. But we have to leave in ten minutes so we don’t miss our flight.” Always business, I nod at my father-in-law as Justine walks with Kent to help with Emma’s belongings.
I don’t have time to say anything before Emma throws herself at me. “Please, Ty, don’t send me away. I have learned so much. I don’t want to die. I want you.” She still doesn’t say anything about Aspen, and I don’t push.
Tucking one of her wavy tendrils behind her ear, I can only stare at her because this is the most I have seen of my wife since our girl was born. Sure, I’ve seen her every day, but what I’m witnessing now is a little bit of the old Emma shining through. “Ems,” I start. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, but it’s for your own good, baby,” I begin, and before I can take in her smell one last time, she pulls away from me and is out the front door, leaving it wide open.
After an hour passes, I somehow pull myself together only because the second love of my life is arriving home with her aunt Lila. With Aspen smiling in her aunt’s arms, Lila snuggles in every smell and touch of her niece. Jones is behind her with a satisfied look on his face, and for the first time since I found out this odd couple was indeed a couple, I see the perfectness of them.
“You are a natural, Lila,” I say as Aspen about jumps out of her aunt’s hands and into mine. She’s a bit of a daddy’s girl, and I don’t mind one iota. She’s my world, and in her little dimpled smile with her wavy black hair and deep black eyes, just like her mother’s, I know I have found my sanctuary. With Aspen in my sight, my tense muscles relax at the sound of her laughter. The wrinkles I feel around my eyes soften when I smile at my baby.