by Carian Cole
Chapter 25
Asia
I wake up sore, more tired than I was when I fell asleep, with an ache in the pit of my stomach and my chest. Talon's leaving for his tour today, and while I know it's selfish of me, I don't want him to go. It's not that I don't understand this is his career, or that I don't know what an amazing guitarist he is and how much work he's put in to the songs, or that I'm not incredibly proud of him. I just don't want to be away from him for so long, especially when things are finally going so well between us. I can't even think about not being able to hug him, kiss him, see his sexy smile, and fall asleep wrapped up in him for twenty days.
Twenty days.
Four hundred and eighty hours. Give or take.
His side of the bed is vacant, but a quick scan of our bedroom reveals him standing out on the balcony off the bedroom, wearing just shorts. I stare at him for a few seconds, thinking about how lucky I am to have this gorgeous, sensual, sweet, and funny man in my life. Then I grab my cell phone from my nightstand and take a picture of him, so later I can gawk at it and see his muscular, tatted-up back, the way his hair flows down his shoulders, and the beautiful fall mountain scenery he's staring off into. Although he looks peaceful standing there, I know inside he's not.
Last night when we had sex, there was an underlying desperation in the way he touched me and thrust into me, like he was scared to not be close enough, not be deep enough, not be there enough. While we usually have long lovemaking sessions at night, with some quickies during the day, last night we made love practically all night long. We'd doze off for a few minutes, and then he'd be kissing me again, rousing me awake to embark on more drowsy sex. I'm certainly not complaining, but I'm slowly learning to understand and accept that making love is how Talon communicates his feelings to me. At first, it scared me because I thought it was just fucking for him—a way to get off, try new positions, and just have fun. I thought he considered a wife his own personal, breathing sex toy. But then I started to see deeper into him, and I could feel his emotions coming through in the way he touched me, how he kissed me, in the passion I saw in his eyes, and the words he admitted when he was buried deep inside me. Having sex definitely strengthened our connection and cemented a deep bond between us. Dr. H was right; having physical intimacy was a big missing piece in the puzzle of our marriage.
Those three little words have never been said—by either of us—but I no longer wait for them, or expect them. I'm pretty sure I feel them, though. And that's good enough. Maybe better than good enough. While I want to say those words to him, I continue to bite my tongue because I don't want him to feel like he has to say them back. Hearing them that way would be way worse than not hearing them at all.
Throwing off the sheets, I get up and go to him, embracing him from behind and leaning my cheek against his spine. His hands cover mine over his chest.
"You're not making this any easier," he says softly.
"I'm sorry."
He turns and puts his arms around my waist. "I never got to show you the new tattoo I got yesterday."
"That's because as soon as you walked through the door, you dragged me into the bedroom, and we've been having wild sex and napping ever since."
"I had to make up for all the days I won't be here."
"I think you did," I tease.
"Look, jelly bean." My heart drops when he holds his hand up and pulls off his platinum wedding band, until my eyes focus on what now lies beneath it.
Asia
My name, in tiny black script, tattooed across his finger. His ring finger.
Squealing, I grab his hand and inspect it closer, rubbing it with my finger.
"It's real, babe. It's not Magic Marker. Not gonna rub off."
I'm speechless while I watch him slide his wedding band back on. "Wow. I'm…shocked," is all I can manage to say.
"Why?"
"It's just so…permanent. That's forever."
"I know. I have a lot, remember?" He flashes me his wicked cute smile, obviously very pleased with his new tiny ink.
"Yeah, but…it's on your ring finger. Like the wedding ring finger."
"That's the point, Aze."
My heart flutters. "But what if—"
He presses his finger over my lips. "Don't you dare say it. Not ever. And especially not today."
I grab his hand from my lips and link my fingers in his. "I'm surprised, that's all."
"Why? You're my wife. I want your name on me forever. And I wanted you to know that your name is there, branded on me, whether I have the ring on or not. Which I always do, but I'm just sayin'. I'll probably get your name bigger someplace else on me eventually, 'cuz the ring is covering this one."
I know it's only a tiny tattoo, but this is big. I mean, for a guy to tattoo a woman's name on his ring finger—that's a commitment. It's everything.
With a big smile, I throw my arms around him and smash my lips against his. "You're the best. I want your name on me too, now."
His full lips come back down on mine before he answers. "Okay, but not on your finger. Your hands are too tiny, and it will just look like a blob. When I get back, I'll take you to Lukas."
"I would love that. I've always wanted another one, actually. I just wanted something that meant something."
He licks his lips and runs his hands up my arms. "Actually…I've been wanting to ask you about the one you have."
No. Why would he ask about that now?
Pulling away from him, I move to the other side of the small balcony and gaze out at the bright red, orange, and yellow leaves of the surrounding trees. Every year I look forward to the colors of fall because I feel like I'm living in a painting. I don't think I could ever live anywhere else in the world because I would miss the leaves of New England too much.
"Aze?" His voice alone is full of questions. There is no way I can look into his eyes and risk seeing a change in them when I tell him what the tiny tattoo on my shoulder means.
Shaking my head, I can't believe he would bring up this subject today of all days, when I'm already upset and worried about him going away.
"Talon, I don't want to talk about it."
"I do."
I turn and lean against the balcony railing to finally face him. "Why? It's just a little symbol. It's nothing."
He narrows his dark eyes at me, his brow creasing. "Why don't you want to tell me? Lukas has the same symbol, and he told me what it means. I want you to tell me what it means for you."
I smile weakly, hoping I can sway him from this entire conversation. "Why do you want to talk about this now? You're leaving in a few hours. Let's just be happy."
He sighs and tilts his head, his wavy hair falling across half his face. "Because I care about you and I want to know. It's been on my mind for a while." His eyes hold mine, unrelenting. "I want you to let me in."
My shoulders drop with defeat. "If you talked to Lukas, then you already know what it represents. It's the symbol for Project Semicolon."
"I know. I want to know why you have it." Edging closer to me, he takes my hand in his. "Did something happen to you?"
So much. More than I will ever tell.
Taking a breath, I stare down at our bare feet. "A lot happened to me, Tal. I had a shitty family. You know this."
"Were you depressed?"
"Yes."
"Were you ever suicidal?"
I refuse to look up at him and keep my eyes rooted to the floor. "I don't know if suicide is exactly accurate. I didn't want to kill myself, but I didn't want to be alive. Every day was an exhausting struggle, and I wanted a way out. I wanted to escape, but for me, it was more of the immense feeling of being abandoned by everyone, unwanted. Unloved."
"Baby…" He tries to hug me, but I push him away.
"Talon, no. I don't want you feeling sorry for me. It's too late to make me feel better about what happened then."
"I'm trying to make you feel better now."
"I know. And it's very nice of you. Just
forget it, okay?"
As always, he's too stubborn to let anything go. He's like a dog—once he focuses on a bone, he can't forget it until he's got his teeth in it. "Please tell me. I want to know everything about you. Good and fucking bad, I want to hear it all."
I pull my hand from his, needing space from him to get this out. "Fine, Talon. I'll try to give you the short version and spare you the disgusting details. We were poor. Most of the time, we didn't even have any food. And when we did? My parents gave what little we had to my brother and very little to me. We didn't have a phone or a television. I had two old toys to play with when I was little. My father used any money he made to buy alcohol and drugs, and he hit both me and my mother and verbally abused us pretty much nonstop. My mother rarely bought me clothes, so sometimes the neighbors would drop off clothes that their kids outgrew. There was an old lady who lived down the hall from our apartment, and she would hem them for me and alter them to fit. She's the one who taught me to sew and make clothes."
He nods, his chestnut eyes growing darker as I continue to talk.
"My brother is four years older than me, and once he got to be a teenager, he started to do drugs and drink, and his friends would come over and get high and drink with him." I take a gulp of air and refuse to let myself look at him. "He used to let his friends touch me. It was a game for them."
"They raped you?" The words burst out of him like shards of glass.
"No, thank God he would never let them do that. I think he loved me in his own sick way. They would take my clothes off, grope me, make me dance or bend over, sick shit like that. If he needed some weed and didn't have money, he'd let them have me for a few hours in trade. His so-called best friend was a dealer, and if I sat there naked while he jerked off, he would give my brother more. If I tried to fight it, my brother would threaten me that he would let the guys go further." Bile rises to my mouth as the memories of that disgustingness bubble up to the surface again.
"What the fuck…"
"Nice, huh? Then my father went to prison, followed by my brother. I thought, being left with my mother, things would finally get better, but they didn't. We had even less money. We had no food. I used to walk to the grocery store and sneak food from the salad bar or the garbage. And then one day, she announced she met a man, was moving away with him, and that there wasn't any room for me. She left, just like that. I had no one. I stayed in our old, shitty apartment as long as I could, with no heat, no electricity, and no food, until finally the landlord kicked me out." Talon's staring at me, shaking his head, his eyes watery, his jaw muscles clenching. Exactly what I didn't want. "So yeah, I was depressed. And scared out of my mind. I had to sleep in the alley or in an old car in the junkyard. I had just turned seventeen, and I felt completely overwhelmed, hopeless, and worthless. I stopped going to school and would sit in the park every day, and sometimes people would give me a few dollars. Then I met Kat. We actually went to school together when we were younger and she felt sorry for me and wanted to help me, so her parents let me live in their garage until I could find a job and get a place of my own. They didn't even want me in their house. They thought I was a pig or a criminal. Do you know what that feels like?"
"Asia…"
"Needless to say, I had a lot of issues with depression, abandonment, and anxiety. I hated myself. I thought I was ugly and worthless. I used to hide food when I had it, afraid of the day when I would have none again. After a while, instead of trying to eat, I decided to starve myself and became anorexic. Kat got me into a support group and they helped me. They convinced me if I gave myself time, things would get better. And slowly, things did get a little better. I got a waitressing job, I got my own place, and then I started designing clothes and making soaps. Then I met Danny, fell in love with him, and he left me too—without a second thought. Like I was nothing. I admit I went into a depression again, but I got myself out of it. So that's why I got the tattoo, as a reminder that my life matters—even if it's only to me—and my story isn't over yet. That's what I have to keep telling myself."
He touches my cheek, searching my eyes. "We have a story now, Asia. I'm so fucking sorry all that happened to you. And I'm sorry I hurt you when we first met. I fucking hate myself even more now for doing that." His lips touch mine like a whisper, just barely there. "All I want to do now is spend the rest of my life making it all up to you." My heart beats faster trying to absorb his words because it's still hard for me to believe he will stay forever. Every day, a part of me waits for him to leave. Expects him to leave.
"Talon…you don't have to do that. I try not to think about the past anymore, and believe me, that's really hard. I'm good now. I mean, being married to you is amazing, as is living in this house, having nice things. But even living in my little apartment before this, I was okay. I just wanted a relationship and, eventually, my own family." People who won't leave.
His fingers comb through my hair, pushing it away from my face. "I'm going to give you that. I want that, too." He presses his warm lips to my forehead. "Fuck, I wish I didn't have to leave today. Are you going to be all right?"
I crane my neck to look up at him. "Yes. Kat is going to stay over tomorrow night, and I have so many orders to fill. I'll be crazy busy. Plus, I have a plan of plastering your picture on the ceiling so I can stare at you all night."
Pixie wanders onto the balcony and rubs our ankles, meowing up at us with her little squeaky mews. Talon picks her up and holds her against his chest, kissing her ears. "I'm gonna miss you too, little rug rat."
"We're both going to miss you," I tell him. "But don't worry about us. No more depressing talk, okay? Just focus on the band and keep your shirt on."
He grins at me. "Right. No baring my amazing abs on stage."
Oh, what abs they are. I tear my eyes off his midsection to listen to what he's saying.
"Two of our concerts are going to be streamed live online. One this week and then one on Halloween night. All the shows except the first one are gonna be epic 'cuz the stage is gonna be like a graveyard with fog and headstones and a makeup artist is coming to make us look scary as shit. We decided to make this mini-tour Halloween-themed to make it kinda fun for October." He gently puts Pixie back on the floor. "I'll send the links to you and the log-in info so you can watch from here. Would you like that?"
I nod excitedly. "I would love to. That Halloween setup sounds awesome."
"It's my favorite holiday. I'm psyched about it."
"I didn't know that." I also just realized I don't even know when his birthday is, so I ask him.
"It's January twenty-fourth. I can't believe we never talked about this. When's yours? I'm gonna feel like shit if I missed it."
"Nope…it's May thirtieth."
"Whew. I have time to buy you a gift, then."
February will mark our six-month anniversary, and that is when we have our final meeting with Dr. Hollister to give her our individual decisions on whether we want to stay married or get divorced. I wonder how the other couples in the project are doing, and I think it would have been nice if we were all able to talk to each other and support each other throughout this crazy process. Only someone else in this scenario would really be able to understand how it feels. I wonder if the other girls worry they may want to stay married, but their spouse may want a divorce. Or vice versa.
Talon waves his hand in front of my face as I space out. "Aze…stop. I know May is after February. And yes, I will be here. You better be too."
"Yes," I say confidently. "All three of us will be here."
* * *
After he makes us a breakfast that could feed five people, I help him pack for his tour. I laugh at how he rolls up his clothes and shoves them in his suitcase haphazardly, but I'm able to convince him to let me fold his new stage clothes neatly for him so they don't get all mangled up. I'm sure they will meet a different fate once he leaves the house, but at least I know they left in good shape.
"You better text me pictures of you in yo
ur new clothes. I want to see."
He zips up his suitcase and puts it outside the bedroom door. "I will. I'll send you pictures of the guys wearing their stuff too."
I squeal and jump up and down with excitement. "I can't believe you guys are wearing clothes we designed!" I want to pinch myself so I know this is really happening. Famous rock stars are actually wearing my designs! Things I sewed right here with my own hands. It's an incredible feeling.
He quirks his eyebrows up at me suggestively. "Keep jumping and bouncing like that, and we're gonna end up back in bed."
Smiling, I jump up and down a few more times before he grabs me around the waist and pulls me against his solid chest. "You can't get enough of me, can you?" he asks, squeezing my ass. "Either I'm really good and you want more, or I suck and you keep wanting do-overs."
"It's definitely that I want more, but I don't think I can take any more after last night, hon. I'm pretty sore." My insides feel raw from the all-night sexathon we had last night, so I think I need to give the vag a rest.
"I hurt you?" The smile fades from his face and is replaced by a frown.
"No, honey, it's fine. It was just a lot of…ramming. I loved every minute of it."
"Baby, you know when I pound you it's because I'm crazy for you, right? I'm not trying to hurt you or disrespect you."
"Pound me?" I repeat, crinkling my nose. I know what he's trying to say, though, and I think it's sweet. I feel the same way when we have sex; I want to be devoured by him. Even though it hurts when he pounds me, I love the way it turns me on and quakes through my entire body.
"I legit cannot think of a better word. I'm not a thesaurus, Aze. I write rock songs. And you said ramming, which is almost worse than pounding."
I run my hands up his chest and lean up on my toes to reach his lips. "I love when you do both."
"Come downstairs, I have something for you." He grabs my hand and leads me downstairs to the living room, where he takes a folder out of the drawer in the coffee table.