“I have a lot of laundry and packing to do tomorrow, Owen. I gotta—”
“What?” He frowned.
“We are going up to the house in Santa Barbara this weekend,” she reminded him. Like he needed the reminder.
“Nadia—” He stopped dead in his tracks because she had a look on her face that shouted to stay back.
“No,” she said confidently, a glimmer of the take-no-prisoners girl he fell in love with shining through. “Don’t. Don’t stand there and get judgmental on me. Do you know what you do? What you say? You must know words can hurt, Owen.” Words? What words? “And you have the balls to stand there and act shocked when all I did was set up a consultation to fix what you’ve pointed out I need work on?” she snapped. He felt his eyes widen.
“What do I do or say?” he asked, feeling clueless.
“Simone’s right,” Nadia spoke to herself. He frowned wondering what the hell crazy Simone was right about that would cause Nadia to not even look at him. She just leaned over and turned off her bedside light.
“Babe—” he started to argue. They weren’t done talking, but he saw her shadowed head shake.
“It’s late,” she said in that damn defeated tone before closing her eyes. He slipped into bed next to her, but they didn’t touch.
Everything in his body was yelling at him to touch her. To pull her in his arms, kiss her senseless until she finally broke and talked to him.
Shifting in bed with her back to him, he spoke into the darkness, “Babe—”
“I was only thinking about it,” she shared softly with him, that fucking tone still in her voice. Fuck, he hated it. The defeat. Taking his silence in, she kept sharing, “I chose Paul because he’s as good as you. You can’t do it, since you’re my husband—”
“Nadia—”
“He’s a good doctor.”
“He is; it’s not his skill I’m worried about.”
“The moment I hung up with Carol, I knew I shouldn’t have called. I was just curious. I just… I wanted to know—”
“What do I do?” he cut her off. A deafening silence fell between them until she turned around, her eyes a mystery to him.
“What?”
“You said I do or say shit, baby. I never meant to—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she cut him off. Taking in her weary stare, he couldn’t not touch her. Remind her of how beautiful she was to him.
He caressed her face. “It does,” he pressed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like something was wrong with your body, but if I have…” She shook him off and looked over his shoulder.
“Come on, Owen. Let’s be honest. For one freaking minute at least. Alright? We both know my body didn’t bounce back after the girls.”
“I love your—”
“Really?” she asked, the tone of her voice rising, a flare in her eyes starting to simmer.
“I do,” he responded adamantly, and she rolled her eyes.
“Is that why you always tell me about the stuff I shouldn’t eat? Or how I should spend more time at the gym?”
“Baby—”
“No.” She shook her head. “You wanted to have this discussion, and this time, I’m not going to sugarcoat things for you.” She sat up in bed, turning the light on her nightstand back on.
“I don’t need you to.”
“That’s great, Owen!” she sarcastically said. “You make perfection out of silicone. Every. Single. Damn. Day! Perfect boobs, perky asses, and flat stomachs.”
“Nadia, baby, listen to me. You are perfect.“
“I’m not,” she snapped, her cheeks pink, her eyes glassy. “I’m so far from perfect it’s ridiculous. But that’s okay.” When tears bubbled up to her eyes, his heart fucking hurt. “I’m okay with that. I don’t want to be.”
“Babe—”
“You should go to sleep in the guest room,” she blurted out, making his body freeze.
“What?” He frowned. They hadn’t slept a night apart while being under the same roof since never.
“Sleep in the guest room. I can’t…” She sniffled and looked away from him. “Why did you come home this late?” she asked, her eyes pinned to the rug under their bed. She wouldn’t even look at him.
“I told you. I fell asleep waiting to see about—”
“There are other doctors on call. Nurses who watch over your post-op patients.”
“Nadia.”
“Was Monique there tonight?” she asked, twisting her head to look at him, and he squinted.
“What?” He suddenly felt uncomfortable. Not that he had planned on keeping the fact his assistant had gone nuts and quit. It just wasn’t the way he’d wanted to talk to her about it.
“You heard me,” she whispered in an eerily calm tone.
“No. No, she wasn’t. She left the office about thirty minutes after I got to the hospital,” he answered her honestly, and her eyes jumped to his.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, sitting up, letting both his hands grab hers; he was thankful that she let him hold her. “I love you, Nadia. I’ve loved you from the first time I looked at you.”
“I know that.”
“Then what is this about? Going to Santa Barbara outta nowhere?”
“Is it really out of nowhere, though?” she scoffed, and he pressed his lips together.
“Nadi—”
“You don’t see me, Owen.”
“I do.” He did. Don’t I?
“You don’t,” she stressed, and he felt bile rush up his throat. Fuck. How the hell had they got here? “I just think some time apart will help us open our eyes a little. Help us to—”
“You mean open my eyes. Right?” he asked. He knew he sounded like an asshole, but he couldn’t help himself.
“No. I mean our eyes,” she clarified, and he stared at her. His heart raced in his chest. He couldn’t shake off the bad feeling he had. He was losing her. He was losing the love of his life, his family, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. He was helpless to it. “I’m lost, Owen,” she whispered, which made him frown.
“What?” he spoke without thinking. Everything felt wrong. Everything he had worked for was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, and nothing made sense.
“The girls are older now and you’re settled with your career. We’re settled in our lives here.” He would have thought those were all positives. “I need to do something more than be at home with them.”
“You mean go back to work?” he asked, looking twice at her.
“Maybe.” She shrugged and sighed as frustration built inside of him. “I don’t know.”
“Who would take care of the house?” he stupidly asked, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. Unfortunately, he was too overwhelmed by the day and the moment to take them back. He let go of her hand.
“Is that what you think I do?” she asked. She had a stunned look on her face, as if he had slapped her. He could see the pain he had callously caused. But being him, he kept finding a way to fuck things up further.
“Babe, I work crazy hours. If you go back to work, we’ll need a nanny, a housekeeper.”
“A lot of people—”
“And if we are being honest here, isn’t it what you do?” Fuck. He hadn’t just put his foot in his mouth, he’d stepped in a pile of shit he knew he couldn’t get himself out of.
“Stop talking,” she snapped. “Stop right there. Don’t say anything else. Whatever the hell you are going to say is probably going to be shit,” she warned, standing up. She grabbed her favorite pillow from her side of the bed. “I love you enough to tell you that this is not the time for us to talk about this. We are both tired—”
“I agree,” he huffed, thinking about what the cost would be of a nanny and a housekeeper. Numbers added up in his head. “Why do you have to do this?” he asked unintentionally. “This is my time to take care of you,” he pointed out.
“What?” She stilled. He could fee
l her eyes on him, but now it was him who couldn’t get himself to look at her.
“You worked your ass off so that I could go to school and we could live comfortably while I finished up. All so I wouldn’t have student loans coming out of my ears when I finished.”
“Our ears,” she whispered, and if he were paying attention, he would have seen the pain he caused with his words, but he wasn’t.
“Right. Whatever. Look…” He was drowning in panic and fear. “Do you think we don’t make enough? Is that—”
“No. And if you really listened and saw me, you would know that,” she said in that fucking tone. He wanted to rip his damn hair out.
“Na—”
“I can’t do this right now.”
“Do what?” he asked, looking at her.
“This.” She pointed back and forth between them.
“Then, when?”
“When you can make time, I guess, but not right now. Right now, I love you, Owen, but I don’t like you a whole lot.” She left him stunned.
Speechless for the first time in his life.
Just like that, with those last words, she stepped out of their bedroom, the one they had shared for years. She silently closed the door behind her. He could hear her faint footsteps leading down the staircase and the soft creak of the guest room door opening and closing.
Falling back into their bed, his hands at his temples, he wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something. Anything that would take away the consuming fear that he was losing everything that meant a damn in his life.
Chapter Six
NADIA
OUR BAGS WERE PACKED and ready to go. I looked around the house and could still see it.
Younger versions of Owen and me. Walking around the house, filled with anxiety and excitement as the realtor told us about crown molding and square footage. The sheer massive size of the property was something we had only daydreamed the year before.
We had been so different then. Full of excitement and hope. So damn naïve. Shaking off the cynicism that bubbled to the forefront of my mind, I walked into his study.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he said without looking up from his laptop, but that wasn’t new. I was used to him not seeing me. The anger that filled the air between us was new.
“The van is packed,” I shared. I didn’t want to leave him like this. I knew I had messed up the night before, sleeping in the guest room. I had missed him. We hadn’t spent a night apart in years.
“Hmm.”
“I’ll probably stop at the grocery store with the girls for some staples before we get to the house.”
“Okay,” he muttered, still not sparing a glance in my direction. I took a deep breath praying for patience. He was pouting. He did that when he didn’t get his way. Though this time, I wasn’t going to be the one to bend. I couldn’t anymore.
“You could head up with us,” I offered. I kind of hated myself for doing it. On the cusp of leaving, I still held hope he would get it. He would get how much trouble we were in, and he would decide to go with us.
“Maybe Sunday.” He shrugged, still not looking at me. I was standing in front of him, vulnerable and open, holding out a life raft to help save us, and he couldn’t care less.
It was Friday.
Why did he need to be alone this weekend? It made my mind run wild with horrible scenarios, but I wasn’t going to ask. If I did, I wasn’t sure I could handle the truth. I would have to deal with whatever he could confess, and I didn’t have that in me. Not yet. I needed these couple of weeks for myself and the girls.
Focusing on fixing the house and making sure the girls had a fun summer would be my top priority. It felt slightly selfish, but I needed the time to find myself again. I needed to figure out my purpose in life other than being Owen’s wife and the girls’ mom.
“Sunday?” I still found myself asking.
“Yeah. My car needs an oil change, and I need to get some rest.”
“You could do that—”
“If I go up there, all you’re going to do is ride my ass about shit I have to do to the house,” he snapped. I straightened my back. My own temper flared. He didn’t need to talk to me like that. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to pick a fight, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. I didn’t have the time I’d need. Instead of yelling like I was dying to, I was going to walk away.
“Fine.” I somehow faked a calmness I didn’t feel. “See you… whenever you have time.” I turned and stepped out of his space. Having the last word didn’t feel as good as I would have thought.
Walking straight to the kitchen, I grabbed a couple of juice boxes and water bottles for the trip. I felt him before I heard him. For being a tall, strong man, he was stealthy.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips on the shell of my ear, and I exhaled the breath I had been holding. Resting my forehead on the side of the refrigerator door, I stared at the inside of the fridge. His hands wrapped around my waist; open palmed, they cupped my belly before he pulled me into him. “I’m an ass.”
“You are,” I easily agreed. His arms tightened around my waist.
“I’m an asshole, Nadia. How about I head over with you and we come back Sunday?” he suggested against my face, and I turned. Still in his arms, I had to look up at him.
“Owen…“ I started, but I didn’t know what to say.
“I promise you, baby, we will go up every weekend this summer,“ he vowed, and even knowing how much his promises actually held, I was still tempted. Tempted to let myself believe in him. In us.
“What if you take some time off work?” I suggested, the hope in my voice evident and crystal clear. I needed this trip. We could fix the house together. I just needed him to show some kind of interest he wanted to fix this.
Fix us.
“I—” he started to say, but deep down I knew his answer. It would sound sweet and real, but at the end of the day, it would be filled with excuses.
“I need to go up there, Owen. I need some time away,” I confided, interrupting him and catching the way his eyes looked disheartened. With a nod, he let go of me and walked to the other side of the island. Only a couple feet of space separated us, but it felt like an ocean stood between us. His green eyes stared at me from the distance, cloudy with something obviously painful.
“Is this it for us?” he asked. I noticed how he held the edge of the island so tightly, his knuckles were white. My stomach twisted up inside. Does he want it to be? Was he hoping I would call it quits so he wouldn’t have to?
“No.” I hoped to God I wasn’t lying. “I just need to try to figure some stuff out.”
“Baby…”
“Come up today.” I was begging now. Pleading for him to show me he cared. It’s like I enjoy being disappointed.
“I’ll try,” he sighed. I knew his ‘I’ll try’ really meant no.
And even though it shouldn’t have, my heart cracked further, leaving a ragged edge that built aching but dull pain from my chest to my toes and back up again. With a nod, I took a couple of steps to close the space between us. I wasn’t sure why I did. I was tired of being the one throwing lifesavers and watching him let them float past him. The need to kiss him hit, in case it would be the last time.
I rose to the tips of my toes; my hands came up and rested gently on his strong chest. I could feel the way his heart furiously raced beneath my palm; it confused me. Does he care? Does he want us to end? Instead of asking questions I wasn’t sure I could handle the answers to, I leaned forward until my lips touched his. I kissed him slowly. Sweetly. He was obviously surprised, and it took him a minute to realize what I was doing before he took over and kissed me back.
But he did. He kissed me back.
His free hand cupped the back of my head, moving us backward, my back against the counter. In a swift move, he picked me up, setting my ass on top of the island. He kissed me passionately and beautifully. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed me like tha
t. The room warmed up, the air thickened with sexual tension, desire built between us.
“Owen,” I moaned. My hands rubbed and roamed up his chest and around his neck.
“Miss you. Miss this, Nadia—” He didn’t rasp another word out before my phone shrilled and we both went completely still. The fog of desire we had gotten ourselves into dissipated and I opened my eyes.
“That’s my phone,” I whispered, our foreheads resting against one another.
“Alarm to pick up the girls,” he guessed, a smirk on his handsome face, and I nodded. “I’ll head over in the morning. I have some paperwork I need to finish,” he shared, his hands still in my hair, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t relax.
Another night without him by my side.
Another night of him avoiding our issues. I couldn’t stop the million and one scenarios as to why he couldn’t just come up tonight. I hated they all included his bubbly assistant. I trusted him. Don’t I?
“Sure,” I muttered before pulling away and jumping off the island, smoothing down my tee.
“I’ll try to get some time off,” he offered. I was glad my back was turned to him so he wouldn’t see the way I rolled my eyes. “Maybe it’s what we need.”
“Maybe?” I asked softly, turning around. I was leaving. Taking the girls for a month. And he still thought maybe something was wrong between us?
“Nadia—” he started to say, but luckily, my second alarm sounded.
“I gotta go.”
“Stay,” he pleaded, his jaw clenched, but I shook my head.
“The girls are going to get out of school, Owen.”
“Don’t go to Santa Barbara,” he asked for the first time. I looked at him. “Wait for me so I can go. We can go together.”
“When?” I responded, slipping my hands in the pockets of my jeans. If he gave me a date, I would stay. I would pull the luggage out of the van and we would stay.
“What?”
“When would that be, Owen?” I observed calmly, knowing where this was going. “You can’t even have dinner with us,“ I pointed out as gently as I could handle. Reality was a cold bitch.
Something Worth Saving Page 5
