by Tyler, Q. B.
“But…?” he asks, not realizing where I’m going with it.
“I just wanted to wait a few months to heal…but then,” I clear my throat, “you slept with someone. And I couldn’t deal with that and the possibility that something was wrong and that I’d be unable to bear children. I just…I couldn’t do it all.”
“I slept with someone because of the miscarriage? No…bullshit. It doesn’t add up.” He pulls his hand out of mine and leans forward, putting his head in his hands. “I would never leave you…to deal with that alone.” He turns to look at me, his eyes brimming with unshed tears before he blinks them away. “I loved you so much and…I broke us. I don’t know how I’ve been able to live with myself.”
His pain is so evident that I feel it in my chest almost as much as my own. “I pushed you away,” I say quietly.
“That’s not a fucking excuse,” he snaps.
“I know. But my therapist and everyone else who has a goddamn opinion about this, namely Wren Hamilton and my mother,” I say with an eye roll, “seem to think that I should have opened up to you about what I was feeling, and allowed you to tell me your feelings. I shut down and couldn’t cope with what was happening. I stopped talking. I wasn’t eating. I was pretty depressed. You did try, Bennett. I just couldn’t. I gave up…and it made you give up.”
“I would never give up on you, Olivia. Whatever that shit was with that woman…I don’t know if I wanted to feel close to someone or I was just as depressed as you were with no way to express it, but I’d never give us up. I don’t give a shit if you did give up first.”
“Yeah well…when your wife has two miscarriages and feels inadequate and unsexy and just like the shittiest woman on the planet because she can’t give her husband a baby and then said husband comes home after being out all night and confesses to sleeping with someone…” I shrug, “that was you giving up too.”
“Livi…” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” I murmur. “I should have been able to talk to you months ago.”
“How long ago was all of this?”
“I filed for divorce six months ago. This all happened a little before that.” Once I learned he’d been unfaithful, I filed shortly after that. I was hurt and reeling from the miscarriages and probably a little hasty in my decision. He begged to go to counseling or to take a vacation or hell, even move. He’d done everything short of cutting off his manhood and giving it to me and I wasn’t having any of it.
I didn’t think anyone could fault me for wanting to leave him, but did I regret it?
The jury is still out on that.
“When are we officially divorced?”
“A little over sixty days.”
“Is there any chance you’d be willing to try again?” he asks and I frown at his question.
“Please don’t ask me that.”
“Why?”
“Because it hurts.” It hurt every time he’d asked over the past six months, and there has been more than one occasion. This time is no different. I sigh, my body and mind and heart all exhausted from this conversation when I feel his hand slide back into mine.
“I really want to kiss you.” His words wash over me and seep into my soul.
“Bennett…”
“I know, I know. It’s just you’re the love of my life and you’re hurting and I can’t fix it. Hell, I caused quite a bit of it and I’m sorry and I just want you to know that, alright? I’m really fucking sorry for any pain I’ve ever caused you, Olivia. You have to know that.”
I bite my lip, wanting to give in to the moment of weakness that’s begging for him to kiss me. I want to feel his lips on mine, the heat of his body pressed against me. I wanted him so bad I can’t breathe. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I want the pain to dissipate. I want to be free to fall in love all over again with the man in front of me. One that only knew he loved me and no one else existed. I swallow and pull back slightly, realizing how close I am to Bennett’s face.
“I…I just need a second,” I whisper before I stand slowly. He nods, finally letting my hand go. It slowly slides out of his as if it’s happening in slow motion, and when it hits my side he stares at it, like it’s a part of him that he’s been forced to part with. Our eyes lock for a moment and I can see the mask he’s put up.
He needs you, Olivia, and you’re running from him just like you always do.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying my best to quiet my thoughts and turn away from him making my way towards my bedroom.
This isn’t like last time.
I hole up in my room for the next hour alone with my thoughts, my hormones and my heart telling me that I need to check on Bennett. That I’m being selfish again by telling him that I need space when it’s obvious that he’s hurting too.
You’re not the only one broken, Olivia.
I open my door prepared to go talk to him when I see him sitting on the floor in front of my room. His elbows are resting on his knees and his silky chestnut hair looks as if he’s been running his hand over the strands a dozen times over the past hour.
I clear my throat and his eyes meet mine. “Hey.” I lean against the door jamb and stare down at him as his green eyes stare up at me.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He winces slightly as he stands, towering over me as he moves into my space. I bite my bottom lip when he’s close enough for me to breathe in his scent and he lifts my chin to look at him. “I hate that I wasn’t there for you…when you needed me.” His voice warms me all over and I resist the urge to push myself into his arms and stay there.
“You were, Bennett. What happened between us wasn’t because you weren’t there. You were.” I shrug.
“I’ve been sitting here thinking…” He leans his arm against the wall and presses his forehead against it. He turns his head slightly to look at me. “I thought it was worse knowing that I hurt you so badly but not remembering what possessed me to do it…” He shakes his head and takes a step back. “But I was wrong. This hurts worse. Hearing you spell it out. Hearing what you went through, what we went through, and then how I reacted to it.”
“Bennett…” I trail off. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Wait what? “I mean…I’m much more together than I was six months ago. I could barely talk about it. I could barely talk to you.”
“And that’s an excuse?” he snaps.
“Okay, I’m confused.” I put my head in my hands. “I feel like you’re me and I’m you.” I chuckle to myself, as I realize the absurdity of the points we’re arguing.
“It’s not funny.” When I look up his face is serious and solemn. A scowl finds his full lips as he looks down the hall towards the master bedroom. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m going to go lay down for a bit since I didn’t get any sleep last night.”
“Bennett…”
“It’s bad enough that I cheated on you and to hear the circumstances around it…” He rubs his jaw and seeing his ring on his hand makes my heart skip a beat. I want to run my finger over the cool metal. “I thought I had a chance at getting you to forgive me. That maybe this situation would bring you back to me…” He shrugs. “But now, I can’t see how that’s possible.” He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You were always the best thing in my life, Olivia Clarke.” He rubs his thumb over my chin gently before he backs away towards the master bedroom, and then he’s gone, leaving me with the confusing feeling that I want to tell him that just maybe it is possible.
It’s almost seven, which means Bennett has been in his room for most of the day, and while I know he didn’t sleep last night, he does need to eat, especially to take the medication to help with his concussion. Maybe he could get away with not taking some of the pain meds, but I knew he needed them. I’m standing in front of his door, willing myself to go in, but not knowing if I want to invade his privacy. “Ummm, Bennett?” I whisper, and I don’t hear anything. “Bennett?” I repeat slightly louder and still nothi
ng. I press my hand to the silver French door handle and push slightly peeking my head into the room nervously. The room is dim as he’s drawn the shades and it’s already getting dark outside. It’s fairly quiet, the only noise being the gentle hum from the ceiling fan. “Bennett?”
I pad slowly through the room towards what used to be my side of the bed and turn on the bedside table lamp. I don’t miss the fact that he’s sleeping on my side, and I wonder if there’s more to it or if I’m just reading too much into it. He mumbles and turns his face into the pillow. “Bennett, you should eat something. You have to be hungry,” I whisper.
His eyes open when he hears my voice reminding me that I could rarely resist Bennett when he first woke up. Sleepy and lethargically sexy, his dark hair is wild and his eyes are slightly glazed making them look more jade than emerald. His shirt has ridden up slightly giving me a peek at his abs and a glimpse of his happy trail making my sex clench at what I know is underneath. He’s wearing basketball shorts instead of sweats, which really does even less to mask the semi hard-on he’s sporting, and I find myself getting short of breath. I take a step back when on top of all of that he gives me a lazy smile. “Hey.”
My heart races because of that simple word and I try everything to calm the rapid pounding in my chest. “I… umm…” Why did I come in here? It wasn’t just to ogle my estranged husband. “Food!” I exclaim and I roll my eyes at my outburst. “I mean…are you hungry? You have to be hungry. You should eat something. You’ve slept most of the day away.”
“Shit, sorry.” He sits up and rubs his eyes before focusing on me. “I think not sleeping last night caught up with me.”
“No reason to be sorry. You should be resting. But I told Wren I’d make sure you’d take your medication, and I’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t.” I smile. It’s half true; I do want to make sure he’s doing everything he can to get better. But a part of me, a part that is growing steadily by the moment wants to spend more time with him. With this Bennett. I’m not sure how he feels about what we discussed earlier and his last comment has been weighing on my mind.
Is it possible for us to reconcile? Is all of this our second chance?
Possibly. My heart answers before my brain has a chance to shoot down the idea.
My heart thumps at the possibilities.
I bite my bottom lip as the ideas take form and bloom in my head.
Counseling. Like a lot of counseling.
“You’re staring at me funny.” He cocks his head to the side and I blink away the thoughts as the reality of our situation comes into focus. We can’t be anything while he’s like this. Because at the end of the day, I still want answers. Answers that could only come from Bennett regaining his memories.
Would I ever be able to truly forgive and move on if Bennett never remembers what he did? How could he really be sorry if he has no recollection of it happening? Maybe he could live like that, but could I?
At this point, he hasn’t lived through the darkest part of our marriage…but I had.
“We can order something? Or…I could cook?” I say weakly. I want out of this bedroom and away from our marital bed. My mind is in sensory overload and I can feel my walls flying down over being in this intimate setting with him. “I’ll just wait for you in the living room,” I murmur before I bolt for the door and down the hall.
“Get a grip, Liv,” I whisper to myself as I make my way to the couch. My index finger finds my mouth and I begin to chew on the nail nervously as I wait for Bennett to come out. A part of me hopes that he’s slightly more covered up, but clearly the universe is looking to punish me because he’s in nothing more than his t-shirt and shorts when he makes his way into the living room.
“Why are you so nervous around me now?” He cocks his head to the side. “You weren’t even like this when we first started dating.” And it’s true; even though Bennett Clarke was older and more experienced and felt like a real adult while I was a fresh college graduate, he never made me feel nervous or intimidated. My mind drifts back to our first date and how effortless things were between us.
“I’m glad we finally did this,” Bennett says. He clasps his hand with mine as we walk through Central Park. We’d gone to breakfast for our first date, something I hadn’t anticipated from a man like Bennett, and now we’re walking around the empty park, as most people had escaped the New York streets for the Hamptons this particular weekend. There are people here and there, picnicking or bicycling, or touring the infamous park, but for the most part, it’s pretty empty.
We begin our walk across the Bow Bridge and as he leans to look over the pond, I stand next to him watching as the water ripples under the warm breeze. “You never did say why you were so insistent on breakfast.” I cock my head to the side. “I don’t get up before noon on a Saturday for many people, Mr. Clarke.” I tease.
“Not a morning person, huh?”
“Not if I can avoid it.” I chuckle.
“There’s too many connotations with dinner. You have one too many cocktails, your inhibitions are lowered, someone asks someone to come back to someone’s place…” He shakes his head. “Your options after dinner are either to end the date because it’s late, go get more drunk, or go somewhere and fuck. I wanted more time before any of those decisions needed to be made.”
“So, this is you…buying time before you try to fuck me?”
He shoots me a grin. “This is me giving us time to see if there will be more after I fuck you.”
My cheeks heat up and I feel his hands on my cheeks. “That doesn’t mean I expect anything from you or this.”
I lick my lips, unsure of what to say before he nods and lets his hands fall from my face. I tuck a long strand of hair that I’d curled for this date behind my ear and shoot him a lascivious grin. “You know, people do have sex during the day too…” His smile is almost blinding before he leans down and presses his lips to mine. He pushes me against the rail of the bridge, boxing me in as he gives me what would come to be the best first kiss of my life, and in that moment I knew Bennett Clarke was about to change my life.
I’m snapped from my memory by the sound of a knock on my door.
“I’m not nervous, it’s just a lot having you here again,” I tell him as I make my way to answer it, somewhat shocked that Bennett hadn’t tried to answer it for me. It’s getting late, and I’m not sure who it could be. I half expect it to be David and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it’s just a teenage kid from the building.
“Hey, Knox.” I smile when I see the young kid that often brings deliveries up from the lobby when they can’t be buzzed upstairs.
“Mrs. Clarke…” He peeks past me and his blue eyes widen when he sees Bennett. “Mr. Clarke.” He waves wildly before turning back to me. “Mr. K, said he was back,” he whispers. “Well…is he?”
“Knox, would your mother be happy to know that you’re engaging in idle gossip?” I raise an eyebrow at the fifteen-year-old and he gives me a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, Mrs. Clarke.” He blushes and I feel heat at my back.
It’s then I note the vase of flowers on the floor next to him and I point at the arrangement.
“Are those for me?”
He clears his throat and his eyes shift from me to Bennett. “Yes, ummm, ma’am. They were delivered a while ago. Mr. K wasn’t sure if we should bring them up.”
“Well, they’re mine.” I frown.
“Yes but…” He looks at Bennett who I know is behind me and then me again and I hold my hands out.
“Oh, they must be from your boyfriend.” Bennett snorts. “Good seeing you, Knox.” He turns back inside and I scowl at him behind his back before turning back to Knox.
“Good seeing you too, Mr. Clarke!” he calls after him.
“Thank you so much, and tell your mother I said hello.”
“I will. Have a good night, Mrs. Clarke,” he says with a wave before he makes his way towards the elevator.
I close the
door and Bennett is standing, his arms crossed, looking angry and sexy and like he’s about to lose his shit and my sex clenches in response to what I know to be Bennett’s jealous and protective side. “He’s sending you flowers?”
“Some men send women flowers when they fuck up,” I snap as I walk by him.
“That’s not the way to your heart though.” He quips as he follows me to the kitchen. “Flowers are nice after the mind numbing orgasms.”
“Excuse me?” I raise an eyebrow at him. I try to ignore the way my body reacts to his mention of orgasms and more importantly the idea of him giving me orgasms.
“When you’re pissed at me, I make you come.” Fuck.
“Okay first of all, untrue. And secondly, when have I ever really been pissed at you? I mean besides the obvious.”
“I’m sure there have been times. I’d draw you a bath, give you a glass of wine, and fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were upset.” He gives me a crooked smile. “And I’d write you a note.”
He was right, that did usually work. Fucker.
Bennett bought me flowers all the time, for birthdays and anniversaries and congratulations and for no reason at all, but rarely did he use them to say he was sorry.
He was good with his words and his dick.
What did he need flowers for?
I had shoeboxes full of the notes Bennett had written me over the years, and while Alyssa wanted me to burn them, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’d poured his heart and soul into some of those notes and some were just plain dirty and sexy and sometimes a girl wants to read those.
Especially when she’s going through a divorce and lonely as hell.
“I’m so sorry, Liv. Please call me.” Bennett reads aloud and crumples the note. “How unoriginal. Fucking pussy.”
“Bennett!” I exclaim as I try and grab the small index card from him.
“What? He should be here apologizing to your face. Not that I think it should matter. He’s not right for you, Olivia.” He tosses the card in the trash, and in the back of my mind, I make a note to unpack the fact that I don’t go in after it.