The Marriage Debt

by Waltz, Vanessa

  Naomi’s laughter chimed like bells.

  I couldn’t fucking skate, and it was ridiculous, but she was beautiful. A diamond in the dark. I held out a hand. She grasped my fingers. I yanked her to the ice, her body tumbling into my lap. Then I weaved my fingers through her wild, raven hair and kissed her. She uttered a soft moan, seemed to remember where she was, and pulled back with a guilty grin.

  “I’ve had enough ice skating to last the next five years. What’s next?”

  I sincerely hoped she’d say blowjob.

  "Well, we’ve never made out in a movie theater."

  "I thought the theme was couples, not teenagers." I flashed her another warm smile. "What else did you have planned? See a Broadway show? Coney Island?"

  "No," she said, lowering her voice. "Nothing like that."

  After we returned the skates, she led me passed my dumbfounded security team into a metro station. She made me buy my first MetroCard and grinned when I hesitated at the turnstiles. Two options presented themselves when we got in. She took the right staircase, and we descended into the humid underground. People waited in lines where the cars would open. Naomi dragged me to one of them.

  "Remember Vegas? The tour bus? I told you I’d help you mingle."

  "That was a long time ago. I was just a kid."

  "Twenty-eight," she insisted. "You weren’t that young."

  The subway arrived with an ungodly shriek. As soon as the doors opened, people poured out. She tugged me into a two-seater. She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arm around her.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Nowhere," she said, head touching my shoulder. "What do you think?"

  I studied my surroundings. A homeless man stinking of urine sat in front of us. The stainless steel and plastic seats were clean, but the car reeked of unwashed sweat and grime. I couldn’t imagine how miserable it must’ve been to pack into these during rush hour.

  My lips brushed her ear. "It’s pretty gross."

  "It can be," she admitted. "But it’s not bad."

  I failed to see anything romantic in a subway ride. "I guess. Not my thing."

  "During that first year, I used to see you everywhere. On the bus. At the grocery store. Standing in line. Eating a bagel." Naomi lifted her head and smiled sadly. "Doing the things you said you wanted to do."

  "That’s not me. I’m not that guy anymore."

  She looked away, upset.

  "I’ve been through a lot in five years. When I met you, I was the CEO of a few companies. Now I manage most of my father’s accounts. My world is a lot bigger than it used to be. Don’t you understand? I was just a kid."

  "Yeah, I get it," she snapped. "None of this matters to you anymore."

  A chink blew from my armor. "You matter. That hasn’t changed."

  "I’ve missed you. Maybe I’m doing this all wrong, but I finally have you. And it’s not—it’s not—"

  "Perfect?" I brushed her cheek with my thumb. "You keep looking at the past through rose-colored glasses. I wasn’t perfect, even then."

  "I don’t want a perfect man," she said, blinking away mist. "I just need you to feel."

  Naomi left the seat as the subway halted and shot out. I followed her, slamming my arm into the closing doors to wedge them open.

  "Wait!"

  She ran up the steps. I vaulted them. I collided with her at the top, wrapping my arms around her. Cold whipped through iron bars surrounding a deserted park. She shivered, resisting me even as my body gave her heat.

  "I do feel."

  "With your cock. Not your heart."

  I wanted to say she was wrong. A candle of warmth glowed in me. Slowly, she was getting to me.

  "Graham, I need you."

  "You have me, body and soul. Forever."

  She palmed my chest, where my pulse was strongest. "I want this."

  Her eyes were large, pleading spheres.

  "You already have it, Naomi."

  I smoothed her brow and pressed my lips to hers. If she were accepting her role as wife, then I would give her whatever she wanted. Love. Children. Anything.

  After Ethan was gone.

  Naomi

  What the hell was this?

  A stream of concerned texts blew up my phone. The first one was from my dad, asked me if Ethan was all right. The second and third were sent by friends I hadn’t talked to in months.

  I stared at the screen and debated whether I should waste the energy to find out what they were talking about. They most likely read yet another juicy tabloid involving my ex-fiancé. A new stream of character-assassinating garbage populated my social media feed every day. I was sick of reading my name online, so I’d deleted everything and blocked the world.

  "Leave me alone," I muttered to the screen.

  I put the phone face down on the breakfast bar, where Graham sat. He wore a blue cotton t-shirt and black boxers, his face lined with fatigue. It was approaching eleven, but I couldn’t sleep. He joined me, lured by the aroma.

  Graham’s kitchen steamed with three different recipes. I was testing tweaks to Loretti’s menu. My absence from the restaurant hadn’t impacted its running, but I had to stay busy, in case Ethan ever decided to grow a conscience and give it back to me.

  I approached the stove and took a small bite of the bolognese sauce. It needed more salt. I pinched a generous amount and threw it in the simmering pot. Then I dipped a spoon, ran over to Graham, and hovered it under his nose.

  "Taste it."

  I’d been asking him to sample every dish, a job that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Smiling, Graham took the spoon and put it in his mouth. He licked it clean and mulled the flavor as I waited for his opinion.

  "Does it need anything?" I asked.

  "Nope. Love it."

  I grabbed my tablet and scribbled adjustments to the recipe. Then I approached the second pot, a clam and pork cumin stew that would be a brand new menu item, assuming Ethan ever let me through the front door. I skewered a piece of pork and brought it to Graham, who seized it before it dripped on his boxers. His eyes widened as he popped it in his mouth.

  "Wow," he said. "What a great flavor. What is this?"

  "It’s Alentejana. Not Italian at all, but maybe I could add pasta to it."

  "Whatever it is, it’s fucking delicious. Can I have a bowl of that?"

  Pride glowed from my chest as I turned to the stove. I didn't mind cooking for someone who appreciated it, and although Ethan never turned down home-cooked meals, he never raved about them. It was odd how little I'd heard from him, honestly.

  Whatever.

  Life with Graham was good, and I moved on from Ethan a long time ago. Perhaps he’d learned to do the same.

  I ladled stew for my husband and sat beside him.

  He dug into the stew. "This would be great with white wine."

  "Yeah, I’d pair it with an Albariño."

  "Sit," he said, patting the seat next to his. "Have some."

  Despite my frantic cooking, I wasn't hungry. Acid ate my guts as more texts pinged my cell phone.

  Graham reached over and silenced it. "It’s really amazing. You should eat."

  "Tomorrow. It’s a little late." I watched his eyes flutter as he chewed. "You look exhausted. Go to bed."

  "Come with me."

  I frowned at him. "I can’t sleep."

  He slid off the stool and wrapped his arm around my waist. His lips pressed where my neck and shoulder met. I leaned into against him with a sigh.

  "Take a bath with me," he murmured. "It’ll relax you. I promise."

  "That sounds perfect."

  I wearily approached the stove, shutting off the burners. Then I followed him into the master bathroom, where Graham twisted the taps of the spa. His back was to me, but the mirrors reflected a tension knotting his shoulders and face. At my footsteps, Graham’s rigid frown snapped into a warm smile. Unease coiled in my stomach. What was he hiding?

  Hot water streamed into the tub as he turned, b
eaming as though he hadn’t been lost in agony a second ago.

  "Graham, why are you upset?"

  "I’m not." He slowly took off his shirt, and then his boxers. "Only tired."

  A hot drop of desire slid down my throat as my naked husband approached me. His smile feral.

  "I promise to be happy after you take off your clothes."

  "Fine," I said, cheeks burning.

  Graham watched me undress with undisguised hunger. Then I stepped into the tub, turning off the gushing taps. Graham's muscled legs sank into the water, followed by his thighs and the rest of his gorgeous body. Pleasure shivered over his skin.

  He sprawled, his neck over the rim, and closed his eyes. A smile played on his lips. Was he going to talk, or would I have to force him to tell me what happened? Graham fought every effort to bring us closer. The only thing he didn't stop wanting was sex. It was like feeding a hole that kept growing.

  The familiarity of my situation gnawed at my heart. "Have you talked to your sister?"

  "No."

  "Maybe I should go," I suggested. "We've never met, but she'd probably talk to me, right?"

  Graham's eyes became gold slits. "Leave it alone."

  I stared at him. "Not too long ago, you were telling me how important she was. Now you want nothing to do with her?"

  "I never said that. You shouldn’t be involved in my relationship with my sister. It's between us." A coldness rolled from him like fog over a lake.

  "What’s the harm in trying?"

  "She won’t have anything to do with me," he said, sighing. "She's furious at me. Blair just learned Ethan exists."

  "What?"

  "There was an article." He rubbed his temples. "All about my mom and Ethan. It blew the lid on the whole thing. They went to my sister to ask her for a comment. That's when she found out."

  I touched his arm. "Sorry."

  He slid across the bench, craving my closeness but radiating permafrost. Graham took my waist. The pretense finally dropped when he swam closer. That desolate stare tugged at my heartstrings, so I glided onto his lap and kissed his cheek. He turned his head and caught my lips. My fatigue disappeared as he sucked my lip.

  The hot tub heated my skin, and Graham was a furnace, positioning my legs to straddle him. He grabbed my head and crushed his mouth into mine. I lifted my hips. He dragged me down. An immense pressure touched me. I sank as he plunged into me. I met his upward thrusts. Another boundary between us demolished by him. It felt so good that I didn't care.

  We molded into one flesh, rising and sinking together. Our moans clashed. When we came, it was pure bliss. He held me. We soaked in each other's orgasm. I looked at him when the last drop of pleasure faded.

  Anger stirred in my chest. "Don't ever do that to me again."

  Confusion knitted his brows.

  God, this was fucked. I left the tub and wrapped a towel around my waist. "You used me to make yourself feel better."

  He climbed out with a splash of hot water, drenching my feet. "No, I didn’t."

  "What was that?" I pointed at the tub.

  "Comfort." He touched my face, flinching when I pulled away. "It's what I do when I'm upset. Some people scream. Punch holes in walls. I'd rather make love. There's no shame in that."

  "Except you don't give me love. You fuck me."

  I walked away, head filled with images from the past.

  Ethan, I’m so alone when I'm with you.

  A violent shudder zipped through me as I went into my bedroom, yanking clothes from the closet. The garments were mine, but they'd been bought with his money.

  I'd always be owned by one of them.

  That sat in my mouth like bile.

  Graham watched me, his jaw clicking shut. "What are you doing?"

  "I don't know. Going out." I dressed with lightning speed, eager to be alone. "Need to get some air."

  Within seconds, I was done, but he blocked the doorway. His brows knitted together. "We're not done talking."

  "Oh, but we are." I needed to pound my soles on Manhattan's streets. "You're in my way."

  "I'm not moving."

  "Yes, you are," I snarled. "I’m not playing this game anymore."

  "I know you. If I let you walk out like this, I might never see you again."

  Graham was trying. He was communicating. He was terrible at it, but at least he made an effort.

  "Noted. Now let me by."

  He hesitated. "I’m not convinced you'll come back."

  "Do I have anywhere else to go?"

  "That didn't stop you last time." He released a tight breath, sighing. "You’re gasoline, and I'm a lit match."

  I hated how calm he was. "Then get out of my way before I blow up."

  He stood aside. "I’m sorry."

  Without looking at Graham, I stormed from the apartment and descended onto the streets. Traffic snarled around every corner. It was such an invasive sound, but I welcomed the chaos.

  It'd been a while since I'd done anything alone. It felt good. Empowering. A bodyguard followed me, but otherwise I was free.

  I blinked at the crosswalk demanding me to halt.

  What did I want?

  My mind ran through a list. Love. Children. Family. I’d settled with the wrong man, and I thought Graham was the one, but maybe what I wanted wasn’t possible.

  Pain rammed into my stomach. I couldn't not be with him. It hurt when he shut me out because I loved him. He’d snatched me out of Ethan’s jaws and protected me. He’d proven that he cared about me.

  He might’ve changed, but I loved his bitter, dark heart with all of mine. When he held me, I never felt so safe

  I loved him.

  A fierce loyalty rooted in my stomach. I would see his sister and force them to meet. A smile blazed on my lips. Her address was on my phone. Graham gave it to me in case of an emergency.

  I opened my cell, and it flared with a call from the hospital.

  Oh God. Dad.

  I answered. "What is it?"

  "This is the chief medical officer at Blackwood Presbyterian," he said in a hurry. "There's been an incident. You need to come down."

  I burst into tears. "What happened?"

  "Your fiancé was attacked."

  Naomi

  (5 Years Ago)

  He reminds me of Graham.

  Similar height. Broad shoulders. Gorgeous smile—the kind that breaks space and time.

  Green and white streamers hung from rafters, remnants from the St. Patty’s Day party at the sports bar where I worked. Rowdy college boys filled the tables, except one. A group of men sat in the largest booth. They didn’t look like they belonged. They were hipsters in a sea of techbros, more interested in their phones than following the game.

  All of them ignored me, except him.

  He was a slab of beautiful ice whose eyes followed me wherever I went.

  The man looked a little down in the dumps. When I passed their table, he ordered a gin and tonic. Throughout the night, he nursed it. A constant stream of people came and left his table. Keeping to himself with a melancholy smile, he only exchanged a few words. Every time he caught my gaze, though, the sadness wiped from his face.

  What was it about him?

  I studied the soft edges of his boyish face, his attractive smile that beckoned, the hooded gaze, trying to figure out why he reminded me of Graham.

  I had to talk to him.

  "What are you waiting for?" Sara, my coworker, jabbed my ribs. "Go over there."

  "I’m thinking about it."

  Sara looked like she might if I didn’t. "What’s there to think about? He’s beautiful."

  I just broke up with someone—well, he dumped me. It was brutal, and two weeks later I still cried myself to sleep.

  Was this guy another Graham? Would he chew me up and spit me out?

  I didn’t know either, but he needed a pick-me-up. Those downward eyes and sad smile tugged at my sympathy. So I approached him with a shot of tequila.

&nbs
p; "On the house," I said, fighting a blush when his deep blues snapped to mine. "You look like you could use it."

  A radiant smile carved dimples into his cheeks. It was strange. Almost bestial.

  "Thank you." He didn’t take his gaze off me. "I’m Ethan."

  "Naomi."

  Ethan’s hand slid from the blazer’s stiff cuff to shake mine. His fingers wrapped mine, as though holding me still. I couldn’t move, even if I’d have wanted to. His resemblance to Graham struck me. My former flame pulsed in my chest, an angry, raw wound.

  "Take one with me," he said.

  Chaos from a goal erupted around us. Everyone celebrated. The bar was in an uproar. I grabbed another shot and rejoined the table.

  I tossed the liquor back. So did Ethan.

  It burned all the way down. "Which team are you rooting for?"

  "I didn’t come here for the game. You?"

  "Oh, I’m here for the tips," I said, earning a chuckle from him. "Not a sports fan."

  God, he was intense. He never blinked. It was thrilling and nerve-wracking at the same time.

  "Nice to meet you," he said in a reserved tone that probably had more to do with his sadness. "So, I’m curious. What did I do to get your attention?"

  You remind me of Graham. "You look like someone I used to know."

  "Lucky me." Ethan's smile widened, and his thumb pressed into my hand. "Please, sit."

  It was hard to resist the authority ringing from his voice, but I did, slipping from his grip.

  "I have to work."

  "Okay. I’ll be right here."

  Friends trickled in and out from Ethan’s table, but he stayed for hours. Finally, my shift ended and when I closed out, he was alone.

  I approached him, a little surprised he’d waited for me. I found him intimidating as hell, but he hadn’t been anything but a gentleman. Nerves tingled my skin as I slid into the booth.

  Ethan poured me a beer from the pitcher and pushed the glass toward me.

  "So, what’s eating you?"

  "Just got dumped," he deadpanned as he fished ice from his cup, dropping them back inside. "She said I was…too cold."