Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
I wiggle my way out of his grip and turn, putting my drink down, then I straddle him. Cupping his face in my hands, I kiss him with tenderness. He knows I need the softer side of him. This is the side that only I get to see and experience.
“You’re not gonna stop until I talk, are you?”
As he places his hands on my ass, I rub my nose against his and hum. “You’re correct.”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“Anything.” I knead the muscles of his shoulders.
“My parents needed to separate. It was the right thing to do.”
“Correct, but was it always that bad? I know we’ve talked about how much they fought in the end. What about the beginning?”
“They fought constantly.” He pauses. “Well, more like bickered. The fighting intensified the older we got.”
“Did you leave because of that?” I push on, keeping up the kneading of his skin as he massages my thighs.
“No, I told you I outgrew Cherry Hill.”
Tilting my head, I quirk a brow, knowing he’s being facetious.
“Theo, I need the closeness. I need you to be bare with me. Can you do that?” I have tried for years to get him to open up about a lot of things. Most, he has, but this, this is the one thing he never talks about. There has always been more hidden behind what he has told. According to his sister, Brenda, it was hell. Yet, she still hopes for some sort of reconciliation and redemption.
“Yes.” That one simple word holds years of pain. I could take that and hold onto it, but there is something in him that wants to push forward, and I won’t stop him.
Reaching under the water, I wrap my arms around his stomach and rest my cheek against his chest. Choosing to stay silent right now is the best thing. Once Theo decides to share, he does it without anyone needing to try to pry more.
“The way I watched my mother berate my dad and then saw him turn around and talk to her like she was less than his worst enemy… it was disgusting. First, I struggled. I was a teenager, and I didn’t know how to process the emotions. I felt weak for having them.” He moves his hands over the rolls of skin on my hips and back, massaging them right after. God, that feels nice—a contrast to what my heart is feeling.
I didn’t have parents to watch fight, so I can’t tell him I understand even just a bit.
“So, I took that anger, that pain, and turned it into aggression. I started fighting.”
“With other kids at school?” I ask.
“No, with my parents. I started talking to them like they had no authority, and it turned into one of the most toxic things I’ve not only seen but been in. My dad and I nearly came to blows a few times, when he would say awful things to my mom.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing I want to repeat. Things that no real man would say to a woman. Things I wouldn’t even imagine saying to you.” With that, he grabs my neck and tilts my head. Our eyes lock, and we search each other’s soul. There he is. My love. My best friend.
My heart hurts for him, and at the same time, I’m so thankful for the care he gives me. Knowing he would never talk to me in a nasty way like his parents, that makes the sore spot in my chest fill with warmth.
“I know you would never talk to me like that. You may talk to the entire world like they are the enemy, but I know you cherish me, Theo.”
“More than my own flesh and blood. I couldn’t live in a world where you and I existed like my parents do.”
I have seen, on the occasions we get together with his parents, what he means. They can rip each other apart, throw bricks, light fires, and start wars with each other, and it’s the kind of thing that makes you sick to your stomach. My skin crawls when I have to be with them as a pair. Apart, they are wonderful, but together, they are a matched made in hell.
“Is that enough emotional baggage from me on Christmas Eve?”
“'Tis the damn season for emotional baggage and family drama,” I tease, attempting to lighten the mood.
“You think you can handle a little more, actually?”
Instantly, I know where this is going. This is how it always starts. The great war in our own relationship.
“I thought you had enough drama for the night?” I prompt, untangling myself from him and attempting to push away, but he pulls me back in.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me, baby. We need to talk about it.”
“Theo, I’m not ready to go back to the doctor and try again. It failed. My body failed us.” A year ago, Theo and I tried for a baby. Tried and failed greatly. Thousands of dollars, so many medications and shots later, and I couldn’t get pregnant. It wouldn’t stick. And my doctor said we can do things to help with the PCOS and work around it to try again, but the emotional damage was worse than any medication, trigger shots, and money gone.