I head down the hall, flipping the lights as I go. At my bedroom door, I pause and take a breath, knowing that once I open the door, I’ll be a mess. It’s been weeks since I’ve been back, and my heart is aching. I clutch the handle, swing it open, and see the room is absolutely pristine. Not one thing is out of place. The white duvet is unruffled and impeccably straight. I swallow, wondering where he’s been sleeping. I walk over to the bed and run my hand across the smooth banister. My chest tightens as I think of the moment we picked it.
“Cooper, this is it,” I squeal, looking at the most perfect piece of furniture I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
“This?” he asks. “It’s got curtains on it.”
I roll my eyes, smacking him playfully in the stomach. “It’s a canopy bed, Coop. The curtains are romantic.” I smile sexily.
“Well shit, in that case, let’s wrap this bitch up.” His face is serious but playful.
I shake my head and smile at my future husband. I can always win him over with sex. Cooper knows if he romances me, he’s got me all night long. I wrap my arms around his neck. He looks at me, his green eyes promising love. My heart warms, and the world feels perfect. It feels right.
“I’m going to make you a happy man, baby,” I promise. “We’re going to christen that bed. Repeatedly. Then we’re going to make babies in that bed. We’re going to bring them home and watch them sleep between us. I promise, it’s going to be the best purchase you’ve ever made.” I lay a gentle kiss on his mouth.
He tugs me closer, extending the kiss, and smiles against my lips. “I’m already the happiest man in the world. You just breathing makes me happy, but you can definitely have the bed.”
I blink rapidly, tears in my eyes. We were happy at one time, and he did love me. We can get back there; I know it. I just have to dig deep and find him again. Reignite the spark, the flame that was put out with our tears over Kayla.
I sit on my bed, running my fingers over the smooth, silky comforter. I have fifty minutes left. My eyes flick to the picture next to the clock, and I wince. I grab the cold metal frame and stare at it, my throat clogging. The picture was taken on our wedding day. I’m smiling up at Coop, and he’s peering down at me affectionately. I close my eyes and feel the bubble of happiness that enclosed us that day. We felt like we were on top of the world.
“Naïve. We were so naïve,” I whisper.
I set down the frame and sigh, trying to clear the fog around me. I need to get moving. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I undress quickly and step in, letting the warmth soothe my nerves. The water soaks through my hair, and my thoughts drift to Cooper. It’s been so long since we made love that I’m starting to forget little details of his body, the way he felt against me. I hate that. He was always a tender lover. One that gave before he received.
I picture him behind me, his warm chest brushing against my back, sending shivers across my body. His hands come over my shoulders, dragging across my breasts, down to my nipples. I draw in a breath and rub my thighs together, my core beginning to ache. God, I want him so badly I can feel him around me. My body cries for his touch. I’d do anything to feel his calloused fingers rub against me, to feel his tongue caress my neck.
I groan, imagining his hand sliding down my stomach and landing on my pelvis, enticing me. I tremble as my hand runs the same path. I begin to breathe raggedly as I see him behind me, his hard cock rubbing against my ass. He reaches for my pussy as my fingers find my clit, and I moan. His large fingers circle and love me. A rush of tingles spreads from my heavy breasts to my sex. I see Cooper rocking against me, biting my neck, marking me. He thrusts two fingers deep inside me. My fingers do the same, and I moan for him. I feel my climax coming, spiraling through me.
Oh God… Right as I’m about to tip over, I’m overtaken by a vision of piercing green eyes and the bleeding look of betrayal they wore the night everything between us changed. I tense, removing my fingers quickly, and slide to the floor.
My phone pings on the dining room table, signaling an incoming message. The sound pierces me, causing a painful tremor to shoot from my toes all the way up my body. A feeling of dread smothers me as my heart rate increases and my hands become clammy. I know who the message is from. The reality of what I’m doing and the lines I’m crossing are becoming real.
“God, what am I doing?” I need to answer it before Cooper comes in. I walk toward my phone while anxiety sweeps through me, making it hard to take a breath. I grab the phone, swallowing the guilt I feel for even thinking about something like this.
Jesus, I’m disgusting.
I hold my phone and close my eyes as I tell myself I can do this. I need to do this.
After I’ve composed myself, I glance at the display. My stomach drops, and my body heaves. I take the phone with me, rush to the sink to throw up as sweat drips down my brow.
Oh God. I can’t do this. I’m scared to death, but I’m desperate for something to remove this ache that’s attached to the inside of my body. I feel as if I’m drowning, and I’m desperate to find an out. I rinse my mouth, spitting out the putrid taste of bile that’s clawed its way up my throat. I clutch the phone, the sides etching marks into my hands. The pain causes some of my fear to vanish. I take a few steadying, deep breaths and read the email.
Hey, Kylie, I can’t wait to see you. Meet me tonight at the Courtside Bar and Grill on 4th. I have a room booked at the W. We can go there after. Can’t wait to take care of you.
Wesley Marx
Fuck. I can’t do this. I throw the phone on the counter and lean over the sink, my body rebelling at the thought of another man. I throw up till nothing is left in my stomach, and I splash some water on my face. I’m disgusted that I’ve set up a meeting with a stranger.
I hear footsteps coming down the hall and hold onto the countertop, trying to keep myself upright. I’m so panicked and guilty I feel as though I’m going to pass out. My heart races like a freight train, and my body cramps from stress. The steps stop, and the energy in the kitchen becomes tense. I know he’s behind me, wondering what’s going on. Fear slithers down my spine and around my throat, constricting my airway. I try to hold the panic at bay by closing my eyes tightly and counting to ten. I need to relax.
Breathe. In and out, Kylie. You’re okay. I turn around and meet emerald eyes that look distant and cold.
He stares at me a minute and slowly steps into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“No.” I whisper.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Yeah, I’m sick, Cooper. Sick in the heart and head. “No, I’m okay.”
He stands there looking me over. I must look like shit. I’m dreading this confession, dreading the moment when things will change, but I’m hoping it’ll knock some sense into him.
“You don’t look good,” he says casually, sitting at the dining room table.
I swallow hard. I take another deep breath, trying to prepare myself to drop this bomb on him. “Yeah, we need to talk.”
“About what?” His face is the picture of calm.
The old Cooper would have been touching me, making sure I was okay, but the new Cooper is so distant that he chips another piece off my already broken heart. I wish I could do something to bring back the life that’s been stolen from us. Anything to fill the void that grows between us with every passing minute. But there’s nothing I can do, and I can’t suffer like this anymore. I need something to shock him to life.
“Us.” I exhale and look down.
It’s a struggle to meet his eyes, and with that comment I simply can’t do it. I wince as I think of what I have to say. My body jerks from a rush of panic, causing me to turn to the sink and heave again.
“Kylie, what is going on?” he says, sounding concerned.
I look at him. He’s still sitting. He hasn’t made a single move to come over and see if I’m okay. There’s a huge disconnect between us, and I can’t figure out why. I know we lost our daughter, and I sc
rewed up by not going to the funeral, but something else is eating at Cooper.
“Are you happy?” I stare into his eyes, mine filling with tears. I know the answer. I know he’s not. He’s miserable.
He sighs, looks down, and moves his hands onto the table. I see him hunch over and take a deep breath. He doesn’t answer, and I start to think he’s not going to.
He looks straight at me. “Am I happy? With you? With us? With life?”
“Yeah, with all of them.” I try not to take my eyes off him. I’m strung so tight that everything from my legs to my arms twitch, waiting for a response.
His broad shoulders shake. His mouth’s pulled tight, and his eyebrows are drawn together as he contemplates his next words. I wish I could sit in his lap while he wraps his strong arms around me. I want to soothe his pain by running my fingers over the lines of stress that cover his face.
“I don’t know how I feel, Ky,” he says, his voice pitched low. The vibration of it breaks as if his body doesn’t want him to utter anything about the demons that are buried deep within.
I swallow and debate my next words. I don’t want to start a fight, but I have to figure out what’s going on in his head, no matter how hard it is to hear. “Why won’t you touch me or make love to me?”
He grimaces. I keep my eyes trained on him, trying to read his body language, to grasp at anything to make sense of us.
“Why are you asking me that? What do you want me to tell you?”
“I want the truth,” I say. “I want to know why we aren’t working. We were never like this before, and I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s been hard since Kayla died, and we’re both handling things differently, but you seem to have backed away from me completely, and I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong?”
He goes rigid, and I can tell he doesn’t want to get into this. His face contorts. He takes a deep breath and stands, the chair sliding back forcefully. He places his large body in front of me and holds my face, looking into my distressed eyes. “Nothing. You’re doing nothing wrong. I’m trying to work through some things. I just need time.”
I look at him, and my heart starts to yearn for its other half. The half who seems to need a break. A break from what? What is he working through? I’m confused.
“Work what out, Cooper?” I cry. “I’m so confused. What’s changed about me? About us? I’m the mother of your child, for God’s sake. We’ve always been us. You and me. What’s going on? Please, I need to know.”
He lets go of my face and looks away. “I can’t tell you. This is my burden. Not yours. All it’ll do is make things worse,” he whispers.
I know he’s struggling, but he’s hurting me. He’s slicing me open every time he looks at me. Every time he holds back a touch. It’s doesn’t feel right anymore.
I slide to the floor, leaning against the cabinet. I need to be sitting to divulge my deep, dark, disgusting secret that I regret with every passing second. “I need to know. If you love me, you’ll tell me why it hurts to touch your own wife.”
This is a pivotal moment. I need the answer. I can’t stop wondering what’s wrong with me. Did losing Kayla, not birthing him a healthy baby, somehow tarnish what he thinks of me? I need answers.
“Kylie,” he groans, walking away. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
“No, Cooper! I need to know. It’s killing me.” I sob, feeling out of control at not being able to get to him. The weight of the world sits on my shoulders and is pulling me down, crushing me, burying me. My body rocks. I want to wail, scream, and lash out at the world. “I want you to tell me. I don’t care how much it hurts. Not knowing is driving me insane.”
I look up, pleading with my eyes for something. Anything to tell me what’s going on.
He opens his mouth and closes it quickly. His jaw clenches, his breathing rough. He’s trying to restrain himself. His body sags in defeat, and he sits with his back against the fridge. He tucks his head down with his hands behind it. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never, ever want to hurt you. This will hurt you.”
“Please,” I beg.
His body shakes as he expels an arduous breath. “It hurts.” The words get caught in his throat. “Every time I try, I feel pain. I feel sick. It’s uncontrollable. I’ve tried to fight through it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Something is fucking wrong with me, but I just can’t do it.”
I try to hold back the brutal sob that claws out of my throat. The feel of utter rejection. I asked for this. I asked. Now it’s time I suck it up and listen. “Why? Tell me, baby, tell me why?”
He looks at me, tormented tears sliding down his face as well. He looks miserable, and I can’t do a thing to help it. We’re both dying in pain.
“I still see her, Kylie. When I close my eyes, she’s there and you’re there.” His body shakes violently as he forces himself to go on. “When I look at you, she’s still there. Fuck, I hate myself for this. I don’t know what to do. But when I try to make love to you, I can’t get into it. I need time to figure this out.”
I bring my knees up to my stomach and lay my cheek on them, trying to protect myself. I’m not sure what I’m protecting myself from. Maybe Cooper, or life, or from losing my baby. I can’t keep going. I want to stop this torture.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I flip my eyes to his, our emotions on display like lines on a map. We can see everything. We’re at a crossroad. He can’t give me any more than he is, and I can’t go on without more to dull this ache that smothers me.
“I can’t do this anymore. I need something, an outlet for this pain. I’m going to go crazy,” I admit.
“I don’t know what to say.” His eyes glisten with sorrow and anguish. “I think we need to take a break for a while. Try to deal with this on our own.”
I flinch as if he’s just slapped me. Bile rises in my throat. A panicked tingling surges through every cell and nerve of my body. I hyperventilate and rock back and forth, hugging my knees. My heart races and tears burn my eyes like acid.
I can’t help the ragged, piercing scream that tears through me as I let out every ounce of anguish I feel, every molecule of pain that is singlehandedly destroying us.
I want to die. I want to be wrapped up next to Kayla and never see light again. I feel as if I’ve lost everything. The pain is so bad that I roll to my side in a ball and slam my fists into the cold tiles. I block out everything around me. The only thing that goes through my mind is the repeated mantra that I want to die. I want the pain to end.
I feel anger burn within me. Anger that life’s stolen my soul when I’ve done nothing wrong. I need to get out of here. I want to hide, escape. I try to roll to my knees, but I can’t see through the sting of tears. I feel arms wrap around me, and I claw to get away. He holds tighter. Too tight. The pain of wanting what I can’t have kills me.
Him. Her. My family.
“Kylie, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Relax, baby. Breathe. Please, just breathe.”
I lose my fight at the low, ragged break in his voice. We’re so exhausted. So broken. Maybe we do need a break. Wasn’t that what I was going to propose anyway? Why does it hurt so badly? Why does it feel so earth-shattering? I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m feeling, what I want.
“I don’t know how to say this,” I whisper.
“Say what? It can’t get much worse.”
I swallow hard and crawl out of his arms to sit in front of him. I stare into his green eyes. A feeling of sickness washes over me.
“I did something,” I confess, guilt seeping off me. “Something… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I was just hurting. I’ve been having these thoughts that maybe we should open our marriage to others.” I’m so ashamed.
He winces and heaves a deep breath. “What?”
“I need something you can’t give me. Nothing will change. We’ll still live together, keep our lives together, but maybe we can try to work through our pain this way.”
“What the fuck, Kylie?” He stands and moves away, leaning against the counter with his back to me.
I pray he’ll fight me. Get angry and take me forcefully. Make me feel as though I’m still his. This is my cry for him, for his love. I hope this doesn’t backfire. I’ll take anything, absolutely anything he can give me. I just need him, his touch.
“Tell me what you did,” he commands, slamming his fist into the granite. I hear him groan.
I get up to go to him. I need to reassure him. I haven’t done anything major. Yes, I’ve messed up, but we can still get this under control. I lay my palm on his back. He flinches away, and I feel the sting of new tears.
What have I done? Oh God.
He turns toward me, and the look on his face stops me cold. His eyes are the first thing that suck the life out of me. They’re disconnected, vacant, almost as if he’s decided to check out. I stand completely still, afraid to move.
“Tell me, Kylie. What did you do? You said you did something.”
He sounds eerily calm. My heart hammers, and I clench my hands, digging my nails into my palms. I let the pain help me block out Cooper’s cold, distant stance.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” My throat is dry, making my voice crack.
“Apparently you did.” He steps into my space. “Tell me what you did, baby.” He says the last word almost tauntingly.
“I contacted someone.” I cry, realizing what a disgusting person I am. How could I even think about doing this? My cry for his attention is backfiring. I’m losing him. The pain that slices through me quickly turns to anger. My husband’s unwilling to fight for me, to fight for us. “Are you going to say something? Anything?” I taunt, hoping he’ll show me some life, some fight. I put my lips as close to his as I can get. “Are you going to say anything? I need you, but I can’t have you.” I press myself against him. He looks at me and I see a small spark in his eyes. It’s enough to keep me going. “What do you want? Do you care if another man touches me? I don’t want it, but I need something. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me if you can’t love me.”
Against All Odds Page 14
