by Aly Martinez
“Are you coming back?” I asked, not willing to accept the truth that lingered in the air around us.
Her deep-green eyes lifted to mine—the red rims and the dark circles doing nothing to hinder her beauty. Swallowing hard, she shifted her gaze to the mantel on the other side of the room. I knew what she was looking at, but I refused to follow her into the past.
That might have been our biggest problem of all.
She was still living there.
And I refused to go back.
“Elisabeth?” My voice softened, but the question remained the same. “Are you coming back?”
“No,” she replied, swiping the tears from her cheeks.
A thousand arrows fell from the sky, searing into my soul. My breath hitched, and my lungs burned. This was it—the end of my life as I knew it. But, in that moment, with her shoulders hunched forward in defeat, I realized that it was the end of hers, too.
Why did that realization hurt more than the lifetime of loneliness that was awaiting me when the sun rose?
I lifted a hand and rubbed my chest, hoping to ease the mounting pressure threatening to overtake me. “Don’t do this,” I mumbled through the pain.
I wasn’t sure who I’d meant that for though.
Was I chastising myself for having asked her to prolong the inevitable just because I wasn’t ready to lose her yet? Or was I asking her to stay in this sham of a marriage for even one day longer?
Probably both.
“You’ll be okay,” she assured me, pushing to her feet and gathering her bag, complete with our Yorkie, Loretta, tucked in her mesh dog carrier.
My pulse quickened, nature’s fight-or-flight finally kicking in. But I’d been in flight mode for entirely too long. There was no fight left.
I stepped into her path. “Elisabeth, please.” I wasn’t sure why I kept saying her name. I secretly hoped that it would snap her out of it, bringing her back to the reality of it all. But it was the reality that was killing us.
“I’ll take off work tomorrow,” I pleaded. “We can talk. Figure things out.”
It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But that was nothing new for me.
Her chin quivered as a steady stream of tears fell from her eyes. “Promise me something, Roman.”
I would have promised her the entire fucking universe if it had made her stay one night longer. But who was I kidding?
We were over.
We both knew it.
“Anything,” I whispered, reaching down to take her hand, desperate for the connection I didn’t deserve.
“Remember to live.” Her voice caught, and a silent sob tore through her.
Cupping the back of her head, I pulled her into my chest.
“I can fix this,” I swore, but it was yet another lie. “We just need time.”
Her shoulders shook as she cried in my arms. “We…we promised. We told him we’d live for him.”
I closed my lids and clung to her tighter.
We were supposed to be fighting and screaming. That was what soon-to-be-divorced couples did. But that wasn’t us. We didn’t hate each other. Elisabeth was my soul mate on every level.
And she was paying the price for that.
Minutes later, the tears stopped and she backed out of my arms. I fought the urge to regain my hold, forcing her to stay. But her sad resolve as she hurried to the mantel and then to the door made it clear it’d be a wasted effort.
Never in a million years had I thought I’d be standing there, watching her walk away.
But, then again, I’d never expected her to have the urn of our only child cradled in her arm, either. A reminder of just how much I hadn’t been able to give her. How much I’d never be able to give her.
My past, present, and future were walking out of my life, and I stood immobile as every fiber in my being screamed for me to drop to my knees and beg her to stay.
To take her in my arms and tell her that we’d figure it out.
To reclaim my life once and for all.
But how would that have helped her?
Staying wouldn’t magically bring back her smile. Nor would it make her look at me with those bright-green eyes that made me feel as though I could conquer the world.
It wouldn’t give me back the crazy woman who argued with her whole heart and loved with her entire soul. No. Those days were gone.
I’d lost that woman somewhere in the bitterness between grief and blame.
We’d been happy once.
But we’d gotten greedy and tried to start a family.
That was her future. Not mine. Regardless how desperately I longed to give it to her…and then selfishly take it for myself.
Sex. That’s how babies are made. Children as young as elementary school are taught the simple biological facts of reproduction.
But what they never tell you is that, for one in six couples, having a baby goes a little differently.
For Elisabeth and me, it looked more like this:
Thirty-six months of crushing disappointment.
Three miscarriages.
Hundreds of tests our insurance company refused to cover because the inability to reproduce was not considered a health condition.
Countless tears.
Helplessness.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Her broken heart.
My empty chest.
Thirty-seven thousand dollars we didn’t have.
In vitro fertilization.
A sperm donor.
A handful of hope.
A positive pregnancy test.
Five months of utter bliss.
Earth-shattering devastation.
A funeral for a child I would never get to see grow up.
A job that became my only reprieve from reality.
And now…losing the only woman I would ever love.
I’d always been amazed by how much punishment a heart could take. I was broken, battered, and destroyed. And yet, much to my dismay, as I watched the front door close behind her, my heart kept beating.
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Retrieval
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First off, I need to say a HUGE thank you to my Beta Team. They are literally the foundation of every novel I write. They laugh with me, yell at me when I make them cry, and best of all, they are real with me when something sucks.
To: Amie Knight, Miranda Arnold, Megan Cooke, Kelly Markham, and Bianca Smith: I would be lost without you. Please never leave me.
To AS Teague, my wife, I mean, not actually my wife, but we have slept in a lot of beds together and on more than one occasion I was drunk and naked. But that’s an awkward story for another day. I have no words. My life would be a mess without you. Literally and figuratively. HA! Thank you for always being there to listen to me bitch and for plotting out what I’m writing for the day each and every morning. Everyone needs an Ashley. They just can’t have mine.
To JJL: I can honestly say I would not be where I am today without these ladies. Every day we talk. Every day we laugh. Every day they teach me something new. And every day, I go to their houses, stare through their windows, and plot how I’m going to kidnap them and keep them locked away in my basement forever. Okay, so maybe one of those things isn’t true. But I’ll let you decide which one. Sidenote: I have a lot of frequent flyer miles saved up from when Meghan was in Belize.
To Mo: My Mo. The laziest bottom in the world who disappoints me on a daily basis, because, in reality, she isn’t lazy at all. She’s brilliant and funny. She’s supportive and loyal. She can give a mean shoulder kiss and then turn around and write the hottest hand-job you have ever read. That’s my girl!
To: Lana Kart: My hooker. Thank you for making me gorgeous teasers! And really, just for being an all-around amazing whore. (Is that enough insults?)
To Tina Snider: Thank you for all your help with the Winery and for helping beta The Darkest Sunrise. You rock!
To Jessica Est
ep: You came in on this one with guns blazing. I’ve been doing this since 2014, and I don’t know how I ever released a book without you. Thank you for being amazing.
To Alissa Smith: Thank you for putting up with me. HAHA! I don’t know how many times I’ve messaged you asking for something to be done immediately and never once have you told me you can’t. You always get it done. You are an incredible woman and mother. Your boys are lucky to have you.
To Mickey Reed: Please don’t read these acknowledgments….they haven’t been edited. HAHA! Thank you for making this book great!
To Julie Deaton: The Ultimate Proofreader. You are a rockstar. And because of this, you are stuck with me forever. No take backs!
To Stacey Blake: This woman…I swear. If there is ever a problem with my book, she will fix it…like twenty-two seconds after I email her. Regardless that it’s 3 a.m. on Sunday night. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch…but not a long one.
To Jay Aheer: I can’t say enough about this woman’s cover designs. She gave me something unique and gorgeous when this story turned a little darker than I expected.
To Hang Le: Thank you for not killing me. HAHAHA!
To Wander Aguiar: Thank you for capturing the perfect pictures for Porter and Charlotte. And when we struggled, Andrey jumped right in, spending hours scouring through hundreds of images until we found them. Bravo, gentlemen.
To Staci Hart, Ilsa Madden-Mills, and Brittainy Cherry: I want to thank you for the amazing advice y’all gave me when I was developing this release plan. And then I promptly want to follow that up with an apology for all of the “HALP ME!” messages y’all received shortly after. HA! You ladies are the absolute best!
And last, but very not least, to the man who has made this dream a reality. Mike, 2016 was a crazy year for us. But through it all…I love you. Even when I hated you. So pretty much, like, every day. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for supporting me. And most of all… Thank you for this crazy and beautiful life.
Other Books by Aly Martinez
The Darkest Sunrise Duet
The Darkest Sunrise
The Brightest Sunset
The Retrieval Duet
Retrieval
Transfer
The Fall Up
The Spiral Down
The Wrecked and Ruined Series
Changing Course
Stolen Course
Broken Course
Among the Echoes
On the Ropes
Fighting Silence
Fighting Shadows
Fighting Solitude
Guardian Protection Series
Singe
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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
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