The Club Sin Series 4-Book Bundle

by Stacey Kennedy

  Chapter Fifteen

  The wind breezed through Mary’s Mercedes convertible as she glanced over to the flowers on the passenger seat. This morning, just after her coffee break at work, Elliott had a couple dozen red roses delivered. Since she hadn’t seen him since last weekend, they came as a surprise, but the card with them was more meaningful than the flowers.

  Do this for YOU.

  Yours,

  Elliott.

  When she’d flipped over the card, she had discovered a business card to a local widows’ group. The gesture had left her somewhat flabbergasted for a few minutes, standing in the receptionist area of her doctor’s office.

  The meeting was every Saturday morning, which was tomorrow. Mary didn’t know if she’d go. She didn’t even know how she felt about Elliott sending the flowers, or the fact that he’d suggested she should go to a widows’ group.

  The only thing she did know was that she needed to go to a place where things made her mind quiet. The last week had been mentally and physically exhausting. Her thoughts conflicted with her emotions, and she’d never felt so undone.

  She missed Charles.

  She also missed Elliott.

  His smile. His gentle care. His Dominant touch.

  Elliott had stayed on her mind all week, and Mary had never been so happy that her workweek was over so she could get out of Vegas. With her heart and mind constantly at battle, she just needed it all to stop.

  She slowed the car on the paved road lined with palm trees and a sense of relief fluttered through her. Once she pulled into the driveway of her lake house, the quaint, two-story yellow-brick house with the Spanish roof brought immediate warmth to her soul.

  Though the house was only a couple thousand square feet, it was perfect. It had enough bedrooms for the family and an open-concept living room and small kitchen, where they could be together. She wouldn’t change a single thing about this house.

  She and Charles bought the property when the kids were young to give them a childhood outside of the city. Now it was her sanctuary. Her safe place that was all hers and where troubles didn’t follow her. She inhaled the hot, dry air as she exited the car, then she strode around the side of the house on the cobblestone pathway toward the backyard. Palm trees filled her grass yard, and seeing that the grass was wet, she realized the sprinkler system had recently come on.

  The sun beat down on her shoulders as she gazed at the couple of boats drifting down Lake Las Vegas. Her small sailboat was tied up at the wooden dock near the beach. Then her gaze went straight to the eucalyptus tree by the water.

  Charles wasn’t buried there—he was buried in his family’s plot in Vegas—but Mary had thought planting a tree in Charles’s honor at the lake house was a perfect sentiment. It had been a family affair, and that day was full of smiles, as well as tears.

  Seeing how big the tree was now only reminded her how much time had passed since Charles left her. When she reached the tree, she dropped to her knees and read the plaque placed in the grass in front of the trunk…

  For Charles, a man who made this house into a home.

  She inhaled the minty scent of the tree as the breeze fluttered the hair around her face. Her throat tightened as she touched her necklace, her heart reaching for him. Charles’s death still seemed like such a sore wound that had never healed. His passing felt like it had happened yesterday.

  In the pale-blue-painted room, the loud beeps coming from the monitors sent shivers down Mary’s spine. The scent of antiseptic, stale air, and the sounds of the busy hospital only increased the horror fluttering through her veins. She lay curled up next to Charles. His cold, frail body, not at all what she remembered, was a hard reminder of her reality.

  The monitors glowed in the dark room, casting a greenish light over Charles’s hollowed-out cheekbones. Once a strong man, he was now nothing but bones. His body weakened enough that he resembled an elderly man even though he was only forty-five years old.

  Mary snuggled up against his shoulder, settling her head on his chest, hoping he’d wrap a strong arm around her. That was wishful thinking. Her husband was dying. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she listened to his shallow breaths. How much longer would he suffer? Five months of chemotherapy and every alternative treatment out there had resulted in nothing less than a body that had long ago given up.

  She raised her head from his shoulder, gulping at the air, as she studied the man she loved. The twenty months that had passed since he’d received the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer had been long. As much as she wanted to continue to fight the truth, his end drew near.

  “Charles,” she whispered, raising her hand to brush her fingers over his clammy cheek. Their story had been one of fairy tales and instant connection. Within a week of meeting Charles, she knew she’d marry him.

  He’d swept into her life when she was in her twenties, taken her in his arms and never let go. Now he couldn’t keep that promise any longer that they would have a happily-ever-after. Her dreams were stolen without any hope of salvation.

  She whispered his name again and he stirred. His breathing became so ragged she pulled her hand away, so as not to wake him. The morphine drip ran constantly now to help ease his pain. His eyes had opened for mere minutes over the past week, and only short conversations occurred as the agony of his disease stole him.

  His voice cracked through his dry lips. “Mary.”

  “I’m here.” She cupped his cheek and the skin was a chalk color. The dark circles under his eyes were so black. “I’m with you, Charles.”

  The corner of his mouth arched up ever so slightly before his eyes opened. His head that once held beautiful, thick black hair was now bald. His light brown eyes that charmed her were pale.

  She pushed herself up to see him better, not wanting him to strain. “Just rest, you don’t need to speak.”

  He swallowed once before he said, “It won’t be long…”

  The lump in her throat that had formed so many months ago thickened. The ache in her chest silently deepened. She had forced herself to be strong for him. For Charles. “Shhh, stay quiet. Please don’t push yourself.”

  “Listen to me…” His gaze, which had once held so much life, was filled with a misery that made her heart bleed. No part of the man that she experienced her life with looked back at her, only a shell of what he used to be. “I need to say…”

  She sat up, grabbed the water from the table beside her, and raised the straw to his mouth. “Here drink this, first. Please, Charles, you’re so weak.”

  He swallowed the liquid and his eyes fluttered closed, as even swallowing seemed painful to do. “You’re the love of my life. The reason I breathed. Never forget that.”

  Mary blinked into the present, tears falling from her eyes, landing on her knees. “I don’t know how to live without you.” The words passed easily through her lips, as if she had needed to say them for so long. “I don’t know how to go on without you being at my side.”

  She had always been strong, moving forward for her children. Perhaps she hadn’t taken the time to speak of what lay in her heart, to even bare it to herself. Now her heart bled and she drowned in the agony of her loneliness.

  Unable to catch her breath, she lay down, pressing herself against the damp grass, wishing it was Charles’s body beneath her. “You promised me you’d never leave me. You promised me that I’d always be safe. That my heart was always protected. That you would never hurt me.”

  Sobs ripped from deep in her chest as a reality that she’d long ignored crashed over her. “You did what you swore you would never do.” The grass was the only thing that kept her in the present, as all she wanted to do was drift away. “You broke your promise to me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The following day, in the lower level of a church in the Summerlin community, surrounded by six other women who were all sitting in a circle, Mary crossed her legs and leaned back against the plastic chair. Yesterday she had cried all e
vening and late into the night. First at the tree. Then in her bedroom. Finally, this morning she stopped. She couldn’t remember ever crying that hard before. The only time she recalled was the night Charles had taken his last breath.

  After she woke up this morning, she felt drained, but it was as if her soul had needed to shed the sadness. Possibly, allowing herself to feel emotions she hadn’t let herself experience before. Now she was surrounded by other women who had lost their husbands, and she wasn’t even sure what had led her to the meeting today. She wondered if Elliott’s gesture had compelled her to go, almost as if his gentle pushing had guided her there.

  One thing was certain: Her lake house seemed too empty this morning. She felt too alone. She didn’t want to stay there, but she had nowhere else to go. During her morning tea, she realized how good it had felt attending Elliott’s party and being with likeminded people. She wondered if she would feel the same thing now, as these women, more than anyone else, would understand what she had gone through.

  She also knew she was doing this because she’d hurt Elliott. Listening to him now was the only thing she could do to make it up to him. Guilt made her body feel weak and ill, as if she had the flu. The hurt on Elliott’s face hadn’t left her mind, each day during the week those shadowed eyes haunting her.

  She supposed she had come to the meeting for quite a few reasons.

  A woman in her sixties, sitting in the chair across from Mary, said, “My husband died two years ago. I haven’t been able to move on. Some days it’s hard to get out of bed.”

  Looking at the tired eyes of the woman, Mary’s heart ached. For so long she remembered looking at herself in the mirror and seeing those damned eyes. Eyes that belonged to a woman who had lost her second half, lost the part of her that made everything make sense.

  The therapist, Helen, smiled. “It’s all right that you feel lost sometimes. This group is about friends and about healing. We all understand what you’re going through. We’ve all been there.” She turned to Mary. “Since it’s your first visit, Mary, would you like to share something with us?”

  Mary looked down at her fingers, which she’d twined in her lap. She wanted to be honest, not only with the crowd but with herself. Through the years she’d been doing her best not to think about the night Charles had left her, but now she again allowed the memory of Charles’s final night to return.

  The eerily quiet hospital room surrounded Mary as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed beside Charles. She fought her misery, trying to remain Charles’s source of strength. She had never broken down in his presence. At first she held on to the hope that he’d recover, but now she wanted to give him an end that he deserved—one full of love, not fear and dismay.

  Charles’s features were filled with pain behind the haze of the medication. “I’ll miss your smile.”

  She bit back the emotion threatening to come out of her throat in a scream. God, she’d miss his smile, too. She’d miss everything about him. Her chin quivered, reminding her that her world was crumbling around her and she could do nothing to stop it. She dropped her head onto his chest, releasing the pain bottled up inside of her, and shared the part of her soul that was breaking.

  She could speak of how much she loved him, but he already knew, and she’d said it a thousand times over through their years together. Her submission to him proved that time and time again. Only one thought captured her: “How do I go on without you?”

  Not only would his absence be hard, but her life had surrounded his medical treatment. She’d lived and breathed his cancer for more than twenty months. Everything revolved around getting him better. Even as a doctor herself, she’d failed to do that. She had no idea how to pick up the pieces and continue on.

  “Dmitri has promised to look after you financially.” Charles’s voice lowered, strained, and sounded so weak. “You have the world at your fingertips. Do whatever your heart desires and never stop.”

  “I don’t want the money.” She hardened her voice, hating the world, hating fate, hating cancer. “I want you, Charles. I’ll give everything I have, want for nothing more, if I can have a few more days.” Hours even, to hold him, to talk to him, to hear the sound of his heartbeat. Yet the pause between his breaths told her she controlled nothing.

  “Promise me that you’ll continue to live.” His breath hitched and then sounded raspy from his throat. “You’ll live out my dreams and you’ll honor me by being happy.” The heart-rate monitor slowed, the beeps came farther apart, and Charles’s breath grew shallower. “Promise me.”

  The years they had together weren’t long enough. She needed a lifetime with him, longer than their twenty-year marriage. She needed more time to see his smile, to experience the ways he loved her and made her feel special.

  She needed his Dominant touch.

  He panted through the force of his chest rising, yet it also sounded labored. “Promise me.”

  “I…” Drawing in a sharp breath, she stood and watched his chest rise and fall, so hard. She couldn’t continue with useless wishes. He was dying. Nothing she could do would stop the inevitable. And she’d give him the promise he sought, to see him off as he deserved.

  Placing her head back on his chest, she took his hands and cradled them to her heart, unable to watch his end. “I promise, Charles. I promise to love you now, forever, and always. And I promise to live each day for you.”

  His chest beneath her head quivered, a soft gasp of air escaped his mouth, and then he went still. Mary couldn’t look. She didn’t want to see the life stolen from his eyes and merely stayed against his body for one last time.

  Her sobs filled the hospital room as she cried against the cruelty they’d been handed. Death shouldn’t have stolen a man like Charles. A man with a good soul who lived every day as if he were grateful for the right. A husband who made her feel special to be at his side.

  Through her cries, she heard the final whoosh of air from his lungs, and that’s when he took her heart with him.

  With tears in her eyes, Mary remained in the moment, unable to raise her head. She realized, for the first time ever, that she and Charles had broken promises to each other. He couldn’t possibly keep the promise that he’d always be there for her. She had forgotten the promise she had made to him…to honor him by being happy and living life to the fullest without him.

  She wiped her tears, knowing she hadn’t wanted to talk to the group tonight, only listen. In fact, now she recognized she hadn’t talked at all about the loss of Charles.

  Not one single time.

  Her sister and her children didn’t understand what she suffered, as no one knew the inner workings of their D/s relationship. Yet she found that the women in this room would understand her more than most; they all had similar stories to her own, only theirs were about vanilla relationships.

  As she spoke, her heart opened and eyes shut. “I see my husband everywhere. I see him in our children. I see him in our house. Even if he’s been gone for over four years, I see him all around me.” Her chest constricted with emotion, yet she pushed on, knowing it was the only thing that would save her now. “There are times I feel his touch, even though I know he’s not there. I experience memories of him as if they are real. I hear the way he used to whisper things to me.”

  Even now it was as if his arms were wrapped around her, and somehow her mouth kept moving as her soul poured through her words. “I remember when he’d make me feel safe, like nothing could ever come between us.” Tears welled behind her eyes and her breath hitched on a sob. “He broke his promise to me. His promise to always be there. To always keep me safe. To always love me.”

  She opened her eyes, discovering that she’d been talking for some time, and raised her head. All eyes were focused on her. In an instant, she regretted her words, wondering if she’d said too much to a vanilla crowd.

  While they could relate to her on the level of a woman who loved a man, they couldn’t relate to how deeply that ran with a submissiv
e and her Dominant. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sniff, wiping her eyes. “I miss him.”

  Helen gave a sweet smile. “It seems like you two had something very special. We can all relate to that. It’s why it’s hard to move on. But we need to find a way to stop mourning, cherish the memories, and learn to live in the moment again.”

  Helen’s advice stopped Mary’s tears, freezing her in her seat. During her final conversation with Charles, when she lay beside her Dom, she remembered hearing something so similar to what Helen had said.

  The nurse shut the door behind her, and Mary knew she had only minutes before the morphine kicked in and Charles would fall asleep. Yet she cherished every second she had. She sat on the edge of the hospital bed, holding his hand in hers and relishing the warmth of his touch.

  “I worry for you, my darling,” Charles whispered. “Promise me you will go on without me.”

  “How can I?” She raised her head, tears running like cold fingers down her face. “Nothing will be the same without you. My world is nothing without you in it.”

  He raised his hand as if he wanted to touch her face, but wasn’t able to complete the movement without Mary’s help. As she gently guided it to her cheek, he explained, “It’s you who have made our life. The one who makes this world what it is…not me.”

  She shook her head, her vision blurred from her tears. “That’s not true.”

  His fingers twined with hers and a once-strong hold now barely held hers. “I want you to promise you won’t always mourn me, but that you’ll cherish what we had and never stop living.”

  An impossible promise.

  She couldn’t imagine what her life would be without Charles. Her two sons and her daughter would not have their father. She would not have her husband. How to take a step forward and continue with a life that worked only with him in it? “I promise that I’ll never forget you.”