Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I had to. We’re honeymooning at one of his five homes.”
My head rears back. “What?”
He doesn’t open his eyes, but he grins. “Baby, I know more about him than you do.”
I deposit kisses all over his chest. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“Knowing so much about your ex-lover?”
I giggle at his ex-lover comment. “No. Staying at his place.”
“He’s not going to be there.”
I love this guy. He’s the whole package.
“Do you work this weekend?” I ask.
“No.”
“Want to put together a puzzle with me?”
His hand slides along the curve of my butt. “You’re pressing your naked body to mine and suggesting a puzzle?”
I giggle and then squeal when he rolls on top of me, pinning my arms above my head. My laughter simmers into something more intimate. “Love me always,” I whisper.
He grins and echoes, “Always,” before kissing me.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
Price
She left me with a note. I guess that’s fair since I started the whole note-writing thing.
Be back in a few days. x
—A
It’s been a few days, and true to her promise, she’s back. The door clicks shut just after one in the afternoon. Astrid’s in school, and I’ve gone through my morning journaling, sauna, meditation, juice, and yoga ritual.
“Hey,” she says softly as I come down the stairs. “Are you leaving?”
I shake my head. “I’m going outside to walk in the grass.”
She hesitates for a second before nodding.
“I’ll carry your suitcase up first.” I kiss her before bending down to take the suitcase.
“You’re not going to ask me where I’ve been?” She follows me up the stairs.
“Do you want me to ask you?”
“I want you to care.”
“Sweetheart, I’m here for you. I’m always ready to listen or talk or … whatever you need. Giving someone space is sometimes the best way to show you care.” I set her suitcase in the closet. As soon as I turn, she’s a foot away from me.
“You left because I didn’t give you space.”
I shake my head. “What? No. I mean, yes, but—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Baby, what more can I possibly say to make you understand? And if the answer is nothing, what can I say or do to get us past this? I can’t undo the past. I’ve promised never to leave again. I don’t blame you for anything that’s happened to me. I’ve told you that our life together with our beautiful daughter is the reason I did what I did to keep from dying so quickly.” I rub my hands over my face. “I’m … I’m so lost right now. Just tell me what I’m missing. What can I do to make things right again?”
“I went to Austin.”
My hands flop to my sides.
“Are you surprised?”
I shake my head.
“No?” She crosses her arms. “Why not?”
“Because I know you.”
Her head jerks backward. “I’m predictable?”
I step back, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ … what is going on? Who are you? What happened to my wife?”
“You abandoned her and your child!” She bites her lips together and shakes her head a half dozen times, regret pooling in her eyes.
“Say it, Amelia. We'll never get past it if you don’t say it.”
She crosses her arms, fingernails digging into her skin. “I can’t,” she whispers. “I don’t mean it.”
Taking a step backward, I lean against the closet island. “You wouldn’t think it if you didn’t mean it a little.” I sigh, dropping my chin. “We don’t have to get through this with any sort of grace or pride. It’s okay to let go of the ugly. I can take it.”
When her gaze meets mine, I see resignation. “You left me to be with your first love. And yeah, I met her.” She frowns, shoulders slumped. “Scottie seems very kind. And she loves you. She’ll always love you. And that just … what? Is okay? But I’m the woman who apparently loves you too much. And that doesn’t feel as okay.”
I can tell from the pain in her expression that the words aren’t there, but she’s finding the best ones she can. It’s how I’ve felt since the day I was diagnosed.
“And now you’re supposedly … miraculously cured, but I don’t know that for certain because you won’t go to the doctor. You’re too busy with your new full-time job of spending the whole day going through your rituals. And I get that it’s important, but my life feels like it’s on its head. I’m trying to keep some sense of normalcy for Astrid, but nothing about our life is normal. You’re not at work. I’m tiptoeing around you because I don’t know what I can ask of you. You’re back, but it doesn’t feel like you’re really here.”
I don’t react. Not yet. There’s too much to consider. What are we doing if I can’t be her safe space and accept her raw emotions without judgment? What is the point of this marriage and our commitment to each other?