Then, as if in slow motion, Simon leaned in again, his eyes focused on me. One hand slid around my back as he stepped in, and pulling me tightly to him, he planted a kiss on my mouth.
Later, I knew I should have pushed him off immediately, shoved him away as hard as I could, or gone really dramatic and kneed him in the groin. I didn’t. Maybe it was the stress of the day, my mind and heart so fatigued from worrying about what had happened to Robert that I let the kiss happen. So, when Simon’s lips pressed a little more urgently against mine, I yielded slightly. It was enough to encourage him. He cupped his other hand around the back of my head, drawing me in even closer. I lifted one of my as yet unoccupied hands to his shoulder, and let it rest there.
Meanwhile, Simon’s mouth grew more demanding, coaxing my lips to part, and I allowed his tongue to meet mine.
Then the front door opened, the force from the effort, or the perhaps aided by the wind, sent it crashing into the wall of the entryway. I sent Simon staggering back into the railing. What had Robert seen? It had to be him, home at last, and this was his reward for what was no doubt a harrowing day. I turned before really seeing, and ran down the stairs, toward my fiancé.
“Robert, thank God you’re home.” I nearly tripped down the last few steps, flinging my arms wide as I crashed chest first into him.
He said nothing in return but gripped me tightly.
Tears were rapidly collecting and blurred my vision. “Thank God you’re home, thank God. I’ve been so worried.”
I felt a swoosh of cold air, then heard the door slam shut, reminding me that others were in our apartment. I pulled away, but just enough so I could take in my surroundings, keeping my arms loosely wrapped around Robert’s torso. Standing behind him, back up against the door must be the cousin, Xander, whose arrival had required Robert to be out in the terrible weather in the first place. Not his fault, of course. He wore a sensible puffy navy parka, with a striped scarf wrapped up over his chin. His glasses were partially obscured with fog, which likely limited his ability to follow what was going on. He wore hearing aids clipped over both ears, but Robert had assured me they did little to help his speech comprehension.
I shuffled around Robert, keeping one arm connected to him, as I held out the other toward his cousin. Now that he’d managed to make it home safe, I didn’t much care to let go. “Nice to meet you,” I said. As instructed, I tried to speak slowly and clearly. “You must be Xander. Robert’s told me so much about you.”
Xander politely took my hand, although there was an uneasiness about his expression. That could be his typical expression when meeting new people—it must be difficult meeting strangers who cannot communicate with you—but I wasn’t sure.
Then there was a light footfall on the stairs behind me. I shifted again, continuing to keep whatever connection I could to Robert.
“I’ll be going now.” Simon looked at me. He continued down the stairs, pulling gloves from the pockets of his coat as he descended. “Thanks for your advice, Beth.”
With the four of us crowded into the bottom landing of our apartment, I was sweating. We needed to reorganize ourselves so Simon could get to the door, but we were packed in like sardines.
“Excuse me,” Simon said, as he attempted to shuffle past us to where he’d most likely left his footwear.
I was forced to let go of Robert, as I sidestepped an inch or two in our cramped quarters, attempting to let Simon through. Robert, however, didn’t move a muscle. I reached out to tug him aside when I noticed his jaw twinging. Shit.
I tried to worm my way back into the place, but Robert had already swung his arm, landing a solid blow across Simon’s face. Simon instantly dropped, landing in a seated position on the stairs, clutching his mouth and breathing hard. Whether he thought he deserved it, or he simply wasn’t the type to fight, Simon stayed down, gently probing his jaw and cheeks with his fingers, assessing the damage.
“Get. The. Hell. Out of my home.” Robert kept his arms pinned to his sides, like it was taking every inch of his self-control not to punch Simon a second time.
Space still an issue, and since the only way we were going to get out of this immediate mess was if someone moved, I grabbed the banister as I maneuvered past a still seated Simon. Xander, although probably very confused, seemed quick on the uptake and followed me up the steps, forcing me to carry on, farther up. Robert remained where he was, crossing his arms over his chest. He had the look of an extremely disapproving bulldog who would unlatch his jaws at any moment and clamp onto Simon’s leg if given the provocation.
“Goodbye, Simon,” I said. Hopefully my saying goodbye would get him moving and out the door, after which I could properly greet my fiancé and his cousin. Then, for good measure, I added, “I hope things get better with Emily.”
Rising to his feet, Simon continued to hold his jaw. He didn’t look back up to me but appeared to meet Robert head-on. He might have even said something, which seemed an awful lot like poking the bear; however, soon after he slid his feet into his boots, and was out the door. I could feel it slam shut deep in my core. That feeling, the wiggling, reverberation in my belly intensified, as Robert continued to stand, unmoving. Did I go to him? Did I wait for him to make the first move? Was it possible for me to make the right decision? Once again I’d been found engaged in a one-on-one conversation with my ex-boyfriend, who’d professed himself in love with me.
On the eve of our wedding.
And Robert had been through as-yet-untold trials to get home with his cousin.
Shit. I returned to the landing. Robert’s posture hadn’t eased, so I didn’t try to hug him, or even touch him. I breathed, hoping the additional pause would help me remain composed. “I’m so relieved you’re home. Why don’t we head upstairs? If you’re hungry, Dehlia sent me home with some food.”
Robert continued silent, but locked his eyes on me, causing the uneasy feeling in my stomach to deepen. It was like looking into a deep, blue pool, covered with a layer of ice. He was stewing—no, right now he was digesting. Digesting what he’d seen, or what he thought he’d seen between Simon and me, what it meant, and possibly what he’d done. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him throw a punch, although the previous incident had been in my defence, back when we were with Circus of Flight.
How long were we going to stand here? I’d made the first step, maybe it wasn’t enough, but from the vibes Robert was giving off, I suspected any attempt to caress or beg forgiveness would be taken extremely poorly. Did I need to beg? Yes, I’d kissed Simon back—for a few seconds, my emotions from the day were wrought—I would never have let it go further. Apologize, certainly, explain without a doubt, but begging seemed extreme.
The uneasy feeling in my stomach ratchetted up another notch. “I’m going to head up,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. Maybe if I started acting like everything was normal, the tension in the air would return to normal and we could get on with our night. “I’ll get the lasagna warming.”
I turned, nodded to Xander who was likely still wondering what the hell was going on, then continued past him up the stairs. Once I reached the top step, I remembered that I’d already served the lasagna once, not that Simon or I had eaten much of it. I scooped up the dishes as quickly as I could, piling the plates onto the main container and carried them into the kitchen. I dumped everything on the counter, then peeked out at the table. Could I grab the champagne before Robert saw?
Damn. He’d joined his cousin on the landing. If I ran out to clear things, it would be obvious I was trying to hide something. Which I was, wasn’t I? Somehow having food on the table seemed worse, like we’d been settling in for a longer conversation—which we hadn’t been, not really—whereas booze on the table only said I needed a drink to talk with Simon. Which I did. I was going to need a drink or two to talk with Robert at this point as well.
Instead, I remained in the kitchen to try to conceal what I could. I scraped my untouched piece of lasagna back into the
container, arranged it to look as neatly placed as Dehlia had managed in the first time, and jammed it in the microwave. While it heated, I trashed the portion Simon had munched on, then slid the plate into the dishwasher, holding my breath the whole time. Once the evidence that there had been two previous diners was cleared away, I grabbed the container of salad, three fresh plates and headed out to set the table.
Robert and Xander stood where I’d last seen them, the former hadn’t even removed his jacket, their hands flying about their persons as they communicated with each other. Robert had tried to teach me a few simple signs, but they were moving at such a speed, I had no hope of gathering the smallest glimmer of their conversation. I placed my load on the table and retreated to the kitchen to check on the pasta. I had a habit of overheating things and having to scrub exploded lasagna off the microwave was only marginally lower on my list of things I didn’t want to do to tonight than explain what had happened with Simon.
When I emerged from the kitchen again, steaming—mercifully not fried—lasagna in my hands, the cousins had wandered away from the steps, although still hadn’t seated themselves at the table. Robert’s arms were crossed over this chest, his lips pulled into a deep frown. I had no idea if what he’d been discussing with Xander hadn’t gone his way, or if his expression was because of what he’d seen when he’d walked in the door.
I held the lasagna up in front of me like a priestess offering a chalice at some sacred altar before I thumped it on the table. “Damn it, cutlery.” I retread to the kitchen once more.
On my third return to the table, Robert and Xander had finally settled into seats, Robert’s back was so stiff it didn’t touch the chair. I’d never seen him this uptight and appearances suggested he was going to need a cooling off period before we could rationally discuss why Simon had shown up at our house—again.
Hopefully that cooling would be completed before tomorrow afternoon. What a time for Simon to have appeared.
“Bon Appetite,” I said, as I handed out forks and knives.
Xander gave me a nod and a little smile that suggested he might have felt a smidgeon of sympathy for me, then served himself a slice of lasagna.
“Do you want something to drink, Robert?” I motioned to the open bottle, then regretted it.
Robert’s jaw as clenched so hard the artery that runs along the jaw, in front of the ear, looked like it was about to burst.
“Something else…perhaps?” I pressed my hands to my thighs, digging into my jeans with my fingertips. I’d made a mistake, but I wasn’t a villain. I needed to stop acting as though I was guilty if I wanted Robert to stop thinking I was.
“Champagne would be great, Beth.” Robert spoke in a calm, measured tone. “But we need a couple more glasses.”
“Oh shit, right.” I shot out of my chair and to the kitchen once more.
In the kitchen I paused, placed my hands to the edge of the counter, pressed my arms rigid as I rounded my back and hung my head. I closed my eyes and breathed. In to the count of four then back our again. Hot tears leaked out the corners of my lids and snuck down the sides of my face. This. Wasn’t. Happening. As I fought to keep a hold on of myself, I heard, something, coming from the dining area. It sounded like the fabric of a flag snapping in the wind. The cousins were signing furiously to one another again.
I righted myself, wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweater, and set about shifting through the cupboards for more glassware. Once I’d found what I was looking for, I paused to listen for any further signals of what was happening out there. Footsteps approached. I wiped my cheeks a second time, hoping I’d managed to mop up the tears, then turned around.
Robert stood in front of me, his arms hanging at his sides, his shoulders no longer tense, but slumped. His blue eyes looked less icy, replaced with a hint of fatigue. Sadness?
“I’m sorry,” I said. I wanted to move in for a hug, but I had to wait for Robert to give me a signal that he was ready to receive one.
“I know, love.” Robert continued to look at me, his gaze sweeping over me, taking me in, but he said nothing further.
Should I elaborate? Be more specific about what I was apologizing for? I would not beg.
After a moment—no more than a minute, although it felt like it was much longer—Robert broke the silence. “Why was he here again?”
I sighed, as I slouched back against the counter. “He wanted to talk about what he should do about Emily.”
“And you were the only one who could help him?” Robert’s voice was laced with sarcasm.
I hadn’t thought about that point. Mostly I’d been pissed at him for showing up at our apartment. I shrugged. “I suppose he doesn’t have any other acquaintances in town…I wasn’t pleased to see him at the door.”
Robert was quiet, his face downturned, like he was mulling over my reply, or perhaps deciding what to ask next. Another painful silence overtook us. As I waited for the next comment or inquiry, I returned to counting my breaths. Four counts to swell my lungs, four to deflate. Robert had grown so still. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking or feeling. At least the muscles in his jaw had relaxed, and it didn’t look like he was about to burst a blood vessel.
“You were kissing him back.”
The words had been spoken barely above a whisper, but they shot straight to my heart, as though the kitchen window had been open, and a gust of snow burst through and enveloped me. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shivering.
“Yes. I would never have let it to go beyond the second or two it did. I didn’t want him to kiss me, or to kiss him back. I hate that I let it happen—I just…I was tired and not thinking straight.” I watched Robert, looking for some indication, a shift in his posture, an easing in the way he held his shoulders, anything. He continued to stand motionless, across from me in the kitchen. He was within arm’s length. I could reach out, touch his elbow. Instead, I clenched my fists tightly. And waited.
“I know.” Robert’s elbows twitched, followed by a slight wiggling of his fingers. “I think I hate him.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. How long were we going to do this? My hands ached from being curled so tight. “I think I mostly feel sorry for him.”
Then in one step, Robert had closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me. I wormed my arms underneath his, returning the embrace with as much strength as I could muster. Within a few seconds his heat warmed my core, which had grown cold from tension as we’d talked. I hooked my chin over Robert’s shoulder, and pressed my right ear up against his. I sighed, but this time because I felt at home. Satisfied.
“I’ve been so worried about you all day.” I whispered, even though I knew we wouldn’t be overheard.
Robert pressed the side of his head into me, as I had done to him. “I tried to message you all afternoon, but we had no reception…then my phone died.”
“I figured as much, but it didn’t put me at ease. I had no idea if you’d gotten into an accident, or if you were somewhere waiting out the storm.” We remained in our embrace. I closed my eyes, since we weren’t facing each other anyway, and hung on as tightly.
“We should go back out to the table, love,” Robert said after another passage of uncounted time. This one spent in the comfort of an embrace. “Xander’s probably wondering what’s happened to us.”
∞∞∞
The rest of the evening passed quietly. We ate an early dinner, then played card games for an hour or so, after which Xander retired early. He’d been up since four, and as a result was rapidly running out of steam along with the ability to remain upright. While he showered, I grabbed our limited supply of extra sheets, blankets, and pillows to make the sectional as comfortable and bed-like as I could. Robert returned to the kitchen to put away the last remaining dishes. Once Xander emerged from the bathroom, we said our goodnights, then Robert and I holed ourselves up in our bedroom each with a glass of wine and my laptop.
It was the perfect way to sp
end the eve of our wedding. Curled up, on our bed, watching Casablanca.
To my great surprise, I slept.
∞∞∞
I slept until a hand gently shook me. The moment the warm weight rested on my shoulder I knew I’d slept in. I jerked, then scrambled to shove the covers off me.
“I’m awake—awake.” I pushed myself to a seated position, causing Robert to stumble backward. “Sorry.” I clawed at the hair pasted to my face and stuck in my mouth, trying to remove it and clear my sight. “I haven’t slept in in ages, but today I somehow managed it.”
My eyes were still blurred with the heaviness of sleep, but almost instantly I could tell—or more likely sense—something was wrong. I shifted forward so I was perched on the edge of the bed, reaching so I could clasp Robert’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Is everyone okay?”
Instead of answering me, Robert looked at each of my hands, right then left. He carefully peeled my fingers from the tight grip I had on his right deltoid, holding that hand in front of him. His gaze rested on the ring I wore on my finger. When he lifted his head, something in his expression caused my heart to beat on the double.
“I’ve been up for hours, thinking. Thinking about what happened yesterday, and what’s happened this past week—everything, not just this shit with Simon—I love you, Beth, but I can’t marry you today.”
Chapter 12
An hour later, maybe more, my eyes were so blurred I could barely see the screen of my phone as I texted Rachel the news. I knew I could call Becca and she’d be full of emotions, and sympathy, and possibly revenge plots on anyone she thought deserving of it, and words. So many words. It was the same as yesterday. Becca would unquestioningly been there for me if I chose to confide in her, but I couldn’t take the barrage that would come with making her my confidant. Rachel would be rational and maybe even see the reason behind Robert’s decision.
Love's Final Act (Circus of Love Romances Book 3) Page 15