“Nice, Blake! Is that what you’re teaching my girls? To avoid issues and confrontation? To just do what you want without considering the feelings of anyone else involved?”
Blake balls his fists tightly, as though refraining from punching a hole in our brand new wall. His face turns a deeper shade of red, his jaw muscles working overtime as he clenches his teeth in anger.
“The puppy stays, Alex. End of story.” We stare at each other for at least a minute. No words are said. Just the glares of two very, very angry people. Tears begin pooling in my eyes out of pure fury; my body obviously looking for another outlet since I’m no longer yelling.
I look down at the red and gold corded rug that separates us. The physical distance between us may only be a few feet, but emotionally he might as well be in China. I exhale a defeated breath.
Raising my head to look at Blake, a single tear runs down my cheek while I speak.
“Fine. I have a new house and a new baby and a new husband who just does things on a whim, without even discussing them with me. Sure, I guess I can take care of a new puppy, too. Why not, right? Did you even bother to think, for one minute, about how much time I don’t have for house-training and feeding him four times a day and whatever else it may require?”
Anger overtakes Blake’s face as I watch it turn a lovely shade of purple. His boots pound the floor, anger driving him forward until he’s standing right in front of me.
“Bullshit, Alex. I did think about it, and that’s exactly why I got it. Your girls, as you insist on calling them, need to learn to be accountable for their actions and should have some type of responsibility. They need to have chores. They should be learning how to do things. Not only picking up their rooms, but around the house too. It’s good for them. They need that.” I roll my eyes, releasing more tears.
They do things…kind of.
Blake continues his rant, his expression still saturated with outrage. “So no, it doesn’t fall on you. It falls on them, as the responsibility that I give them since you refuse to give them any at all.”
“Bla—”
“Kyndall is eight years old and you still fucking tie her shoes, Alex!” I wince and take a rather large step away from him. He never swears like that at me. Ever.
“You coddle them. You’re exhausting yourself and it’s completely unnecessary. If you would teach them to clean up their own messes, instead of doing it yourself, something you seem to be dead set on these days, I guarantee you’ll find yourself a lot less worn out.” Rivers are now running down my face, but I hold his stare. Unable to speak, I watch as he turns to leave, but not before he delivers one last heartbreaking revelation.
“You’re so worried about what I’m teaching them?” He shakes his head in disgust. “Maybe you should spend more time worrying about what you’re not teaching them.”
Marching out of the living room towards the front door; his words hit me almost as hard as the door he slams on his way out.
With the house now empty, I’m left alone to cry alone...
In my brand new guest bathroom.
Over the next week, Blake and I say very little to each other. Even our doctor’s appointment, a moment which is supposed to be filled with excitement and joy, is tainted with evident anger and hostility. The only time we speak is when we’re around the girls.
Since it’s Saturday and the girls have left me for Tatum once again, I begin my weekend cleaning ritual. Walking through the kitchen, I see the full stainless steel food and water bowls that the girls stocked for the puppy earlier this morning. I smile at the hand-written feeding schedule on the dry erase board mounted above his eating area. With alternating initials for every day of the week, each girl is responsible for feeding him and giving him water according to what’s on the schedule. Of course, Nycole organized and structured the whole feeding program. It seems to be working out rather well.
Opening the door to the laundry room, I flip the light switch only to be reminded that the light is still burned out. Letting out an aggravated growl, I head back to the kitchen to get a light bulb out of the pantry and a chair from the breakfast table.
Sliding a new bulb in my new, handy dandy storage space…right between my breasts…I smile with self-satisfaction and lug the chair into the laundry room. Setting it down, I climb my very pregnant self onto the seat. Once I’m standing, I grab the bulb and stretch to reach the fixture. The chair wobbles a bit and I place my hand on its back to steady myself.
Scooting the seat a bit, I test the chair which seems to be stable now. In my second attempt, I reach upward standing on my tip toes and try to screw the light bulb into the socket. Just a little mo–
Suddenly, the chair teeters and my balance is thrown backward as it slides out from underneath my feet. I try to grab on as I begin to fall, but it’s just beyond my reach. I’m so screwed.
Just as I anticipate hitting the floor, a set of large familiar arms break my fall, catching me mid-flail. Realizing that he’s there, I throw my arms around his neck and let out a cry, both from fear and relief. I’m shaking so badly, I can barely keep my arms secured around him. After a long while, I manage to finally speak. “I’m alright, Blake. You can put me down.” I stick my nose in his neck and take a long whiff, his scent calming me instantly.
Once he sets me on my feet, I release my death grip and step back to look at my knight in shining armor. One look at his face tells me the only thing I need to know. He is definitely not pleased.
“Goddamn it, Alex! What the hell were you doing up there? You could’ve killed yourself! Jesus Christ!” he shouts, blue veins raised everywhere from the top of his forehead clear down to his neck.
I step back because I have never in my life seen him this angry. Ever. The puppy argument had nothing on this.
“I was…um, I…” I stumble over my words. “The light was, um, burned out. So, I was changing it?” I ask, hoping he finds my answer acceptable. I watch the puppy scamper out from underneath the couch and hightail it to, I’m assuming, his crate in the kitchen. As he runs to safety, I find myself second guessing my explanation.
“Wrong. Answer.” He turns and starts pacing wildly around the living room.
With him a little further away, I feel more comfortable speaking out loud. “I didn’t want to ask you for he—”
“You NEVER ask me for help!” he roars, throwing his hands in the air. He turns to me, his face so contorted with anger that I have no choice but to back up into the wall directly behind me.
“You don’t need me! You never need me! I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing here!” He swipes his arm across the end table, taking out our brand new lamp. As it crashes to the ground, and breaks into a million pieces, I can’t help but think of how perfectly metaphorical that is for our relationship right about now.
“Your girls! Your house! Your baby! What happened to our life, Alex? Those are supposed to be our girls! This is supposed to be our house! You are carrying our son!” I flinch at his words, not because he’s yelling, but because they pierce my heart.
I continue to watch him from a distance, walking back and forth, reeling over whatever’s going on in his mind. I don’t dare speak. I just watch as the anger works its way through his mind and body.
After a long while, he seems to finally calm down a bit and stops pacing, ending up at the window. Pressing his forearm against the pane, he leans in and blankly stares at the swing set in our backyard.
“We’re supposed to be partners in this, Alex, but instead, we’re two strangers, living two separate lives, inhabiting the same living space. I sold my house and bought a new one with you, and while it’s technically our house, it’s still only your home. I have absolutely no say so in anything, including the baby’s room. Even when it comes to the girls, when I try to help you raise them as I should be doing, you won’t let me.” He shakes his head, defeated. “Hell, I can’t even help you screw in a goddamn light bulb.”
/> He turns to face me, hurt and pain etched into his features. Obviously frustrated, he raises his hands to his face, and after scrubbing it fiercely, rakes them through his hair. He takes a small step towards me, most likely testing my fight or flight response. When I stay in place, he continues, moving towards me while he speaks.
“You know, when you came to Colorado, I was so happy. That was one of the best days of my life because after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, you were finally mine. And that day you did let me into your heart, but when do you actually let me into your life, Alex?” His pleading eyes fill with tears. My heart aches for him.
Taking a brief moment to reflect, I come to a realization. I knew being married again would be an adjustment; being married the first time was hard enough. But, instead of trying to include him, I just went on with my daily routine because during the last few years, I fought to be able to do that. To do for my children what I feared the loss of Derek would render me incapable of doing. So, instead of asking him to help, I went on with the only way I knew how to live, and that was completely unfair to him. He’s absolutely right.
But, if he would have just told me how he felt…
No insinuations, no under the breath after thoughts during an argument, but a pull me aside, “You’re being an asshole” conversation, I would have understood how he felt and this situation could’ve been completely avoided.
So much wasted time.
“How long have you felt this way?” I take a step towards him, encouraging him to speak.
“For a while.”
With a sympathetic smile, I reach forward and take his hand. He laces his fingers with mine and squeezes tightly. Stepping into him, I wrap my arms around his waist and place my ear against his chest; the rapid beating of his heart begins to slow and the sound comforts me. I take in a deep breath, his intoxicating scent washing away every ounce of apprehension.
“Blake,” my head remains against him as I speak, “I love you so, so much. I hope you know that. I hope you believe me when I tell you this. Because as sure as my heart beats, you have given me life again…in more ways than one.” When he says nothing, I release my hold on him and take a step back, raising my head to meet those gorgeous green eyes that have healed me so many times before.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I guess,” I add with a shrug of my shoulders, “I’ve just grown accustomed to a certain way of living my life, but, you’re right, Blake. I should have made more of an effort to change when you came into ours.” He looks away and I place my finger under his chin, bringing him back into my line of sight. “But, that’s my issue. It has nothing to do with you or the way I feel about you. You are my family.” His eyes search for anything but mine, and it kills me. He needs to understand this.
“Blake, please baby, listen to me. Look at me.” When his eyes finally meet mine, I peer into them, willing him to understand. “You. Are. My. Family. Too.” I watch a lone tear as it falls down his cheek. Reaching up, I lightly graze my fingers across his forehead, and when he looks back at me, I swipe the hair away from his eyes and cup my palm against his moist face. I lock eyes with him so that he understands the importance of my next statement.
“That being said, you can’t keep these kinds of feelings bottled up. You have to talk to me because I can’t help fix something that I don’t know is broken. And we have been very, very broken these last few weeks, Blake.” He tries to break my gaze, but my hand keeps his eyes on mine.
“If you would have just said something, it would have saved us a lot of heartache.” I pause, giving him a half-smile. “And our new lamp,” I add with a small laugh. He lightly chuckles, and relief and hope flood my heart.
“Look, we both know I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” I tilt my head down and look at him from underneath my lashes to further emphasize my point. “But I also know that the key to a successful marriage is communication. You have to be able to talk to me, Blake. I. Am. Your. Wife.”
Without breaking eye contact, Blake slowly lifts his hand to gently tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear, then softly runs his knuckles down my cheek. A shiver spreads throughout my entire body in response to his touch. “I know, Alex. I know. And I’m sorry, too. I should’ve never raised my voice like that. It’s just…Jesus, Alex…You could’ve been seriously hurt. I don’t know what I would do if–”
Pushing onto my tiptoes, I crush my lips to his before he can finish his sentence.
No more wasted time.
Deepening the kiss with my tongue, I force him back until his shoulders hit the wall. He grips the back of my neck with one hand, threading his fingers through my hair while the other tightens on my lower back; our kiss becoming more and more frenzied. His breath becomes my breath, his tongue dipping into my mouth, possessively stroking mine and making me feverish. My hands move hastily over his body, tugging at his clothes, desperate to be as close to him as possible. As he slowly moves his hand from my waist to cup me between my legs, a gasp of pleasure escapes from my throat, making me bite down on his lower lip and grind myself against his hand. He groans and suddenly his mouth is no longer on mine. We stare at each other, breathless, our bodies humming with anticipation. As his thumb gently brushes over my jaw, he whispers, “My Alex…”
He slowly moves his hand upwards from between my legs, stopping at my belly. For an extended moment, I feel his silent desperation, his fear of losing what we created as his eyes burn into mine. Moving his hand around my waist, he runs it up and down the curve of my spine almost reverently, but never loosening his grip at my nape, never breaking eye contact. His hand gradually moving lower and lower with each gentle down stroke, he growls lowly as he grabs hold of my backside and pulls me into him. “God, I’ve missed you so much,” he moans.
Taking my mouth again, his tongue furiously grazes every inch of my mouth and I match his movements. There is a sense of urgency and need in his kiss, as though his body is making up for lost time. In that moment, I need him to own me and he needs to know that I am his. “I need you inside me, Blake,” I say panting and pushing my body even more into his. There can’t be any space between us; I’m desperate for our bodies to join, for our skin to touch everywhere.
Looping my arms under his, my nails dig into the skin of his upper back before he breaks the kiss again. “I’m right here, baby. Always,” he mutters, pressing soft kisses down my neck.
When his mouth stops in the crook of my neck and his teeth graze the area gently, I dig my nails even further into his skin. He lets out a throaty groan and the area between my legs begins to throb in response. Breaking away from him briefly, I raise his shirt over his head, but his eyes never leave mine. My heavy breaths and my racing pulse are all I can hear as his mouth curves into that sexy, crooked smile, a familiar mischief filling his eyes. He holds my stare and slowly kneels to the ground, his hands grazing lightly over my tummy as he makes his descent. When he lifts the bottom of my tank and presses his soft lips to my growing stomach, my hands fall helplessly to my sides.
He slides my yoga pants down my legs, his fingers lightly skimming over my bare skin, trailed by butterfly kisses and soft brushes from his tongue. A whimper escapes my throat when I feel his warm breath though the drenched cotton of the only remaining article of clothing on my lower body. He places a tender kiss right between my legs, the pressure from his lips causing that entire area to throb. I arch, curving into his mouth. His lips stay in place, rapid breaths against my trembling sex making me shiver while he hooks my thong with his thumbs and tears it away from my body with a single movement. My legs spread slowly on their own accord as he pushes his tongue into me, licking and parting my folds. I bite back a scream and grab a fistful of his hair while he slowly flickers the hypersensitive knot with the tip of his tongue. When his hands move from the back of my legs to cup my bottom, squeezing it and pushing me onto his tongue, my body shamelessly grinds into his mouth. His lips tighten as he starts sucking my tender swollen nub, and m
y body ferociously gives in to the fiery waves of pleasure rippling through my core. Fingers still lodged in his beautiful light brown hair, I release my hold as every single muscle in my body relaxes.
Placing one last kiss between my legs, he rises, slowly moving his tongue up my body as he stands, lifting my shirt in the process and throwing it to the side. While licking and nipping my neck, he unclasps my bra, slowly sliding the straps over my shoulders and down my arms. His hands cup my breasts, tenderly and rhythmically kneading them. Blake lowers his head and his mouth delicately surrounds the tip of my breast, sucking and flicking the sensitive skin with his tongue. The pressure between my legs starts to build again as he gently bites my nipple and releases my breast from his mouth. After performing the same erotic routine on my other breast, he presses soft kisses across the top of my chest and up along the curvature of my neck.
Once our lips finally meet again, he plunges his warm tongue deep into my mouth and I close my eyes. I meet him greedily stroke for stroke, stealing each breath from him. My hands travel downward to hastily unbutton his jeans and tug them over his hips, hooking his boxer briefs on the way down. As soon as they hit the ground, he steps out of them, and turns us around until my back hits the cold wall behind me. Our lips never part, and as his naked body caresses every part of mine, I open my eyes and meet the green eyes of a man on the brink of losing control.
“You are mine forever. Mine,” he whispers into my mouth, giving my lips a chaste peck before briskly turning me around to face the wall. I place my forearms and palms flat against it, rolling my forehead against the wall and enjoying the cool surface on my burning skin. Feeling his warm chest on my back and his hardness pressing against me, my stomach tenses as his fingers slowly trace up my sides, over my shoulders, and over my arms, his body enveloping mine. Lacing our fingers together, he squeezes my hands tightly, keeping his mouth to my ear. “Mine,” he gasps.
Recovery Page 6
