West’s fingers tighten around my wrists and he gives me a shake, causing my neck to snap. Glaring up at him, I try to push away from his body, but he won’t let me. “Watch yourself,” he growls.
“Not me who should be watching myself, West,” I state. “I’m home every night, taking care of our children. Running them around to and from school, to sports and everything else. What are you doing? Getting your rocks off?”
I know when he’s had enough of my mouth. He releases me and takes a step back, his hand firmly planted on his hips as he glares at me. “You would have none of this shit if it wasn’t for me, Ivy. None of it. What I do, my position in the club, it pays for everything around here.”
“Oh, give me a fucking break. I didn’t say shit about your club. I’m talking about you, West. The man who used to be present for everything his children did. You’re not that man anymore. You haven’t been to one of the boy’s baseball practices or games this season. You haven’t been to one cheer competition of Rosalie’s. Why are you even pretending you want to be married? You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t want to be with me anymore.”
West reaches behind him and grabs the only thing on the counter, a bottle of olive oil, and throws it as hard as he can. It misses me by only inches before it lands against the wall with a thudding crash. “You’re making this shit too fucking hard, Ivy.”
“What am I making too hard? Fatherhood? Sorry, asshole, you’re the fucking father. Stop being a baby and act like a man,” I hiss.
West charges toward me and my fight or flight kicks in as I stumble backward and crash into the wall that the oil landed on. I can feel the glass cutting my bare feet from the broken bottle, but I’m too afraid to look down.
“You weren’t saying I wasn’t a man when you were coming on my cock the other night,” he rasps, lowering his head.
Lifting my hands, I press them against his chest and push against him. He, of course, doesn’t budge. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, trying to take a cleansing breath before I reopen them.
“This isn’t about sex for me, West. It may be for you but it isn’t for me. This is about you being present as a husband and a father. You’re focusing on what you’ve decided I will and won’t do when it comes to sex. You’re not communicating and you’re not being here for your kids. That’s my biggest problem. All the dirty desires and whatever else you have going on in your head doesn’t really mean much to me right now.”
He blinks and I swear I see a glimmer of hope as the wheels turn in his head. We cannot move on together in this marriage if he hides away from me and away from his children. It won’t work at all. I don’t even want to think about the kinky stuff he wants, and right now, I don’t care. My only concern is our family, the other shit can wait until that part is healed and fixed.
“I start work on Monday, and I won’t be off until six in the evening. If you feel like being an active participant in their lives, I think being there to pick them up from school would be a good start.”
West shakes his head. “You act like I’m some kind of deadbeat dad, Ivy. You act like I don’t love them and I don’t care for them.”
I can tell that this conversation is hurting him, and that sucks, but it’s also too bad. I’ve let this go on for far too long without saying something. I can’t do it anymore. It needs to end.
“You were a great father for a lot of years, West. You were here when they were sick, when they met their milestones, on the first day of school, and then you just slowly drifted away,” I whisper sucking in a breath. “They want their daddy back, and to be honest, I want my husband back.”
He nods once, then takes a step back from me before he speaks. “I’ve shirked my responsibilities as a father, I can admit that. I’ve been inside of my own head so much that I’ve been neglecting that part of my life. I’ll be there to pick them up after school.”
Waiting for him to mention something about me having my husband back, I watch him. He looks tired, and his eyes look a little dead. It makes my heart ache. “I want my husband back, West,” I whisper.
His gaze connects to mine and he holds me hostage. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at me. If I had any more tears left to cry, I’d cry them. I’m pretty much past that point right now, and to the point where I’m just fed up. A woman can only take so much, and I’m afraid I’ve reached that limit.
“I’ll be staying the nights at the clubhouse this week. I need to get my head together. Next week we can sit down when we both have cooler heads.”
I have never hated my husband. I’ve never even thought the words. Not even when I thought he was calling me a fat mess to Tinker. However, in this moment—I hate him. “Yeah, that sounds like a great plan, West,” I spit.
“Ivy…”
Shaking my head, I put my hand up. “I’m tired of this argument. I’m tired of begging you, and I’m tired of you pushing me away only to come to my bed when you’re horny. I’m just fucking tired. You need a week by yourself doing whatever it is that you’re so hot to do, then take it. But come next weekend we’re talking and making a mutual decision. All of this shit between us, ends then. One way or another, it will be finished.”
West nods as he closes his eyes then reopens them. “I’m still staying home this weekend. Where are the kids?” he asks.
He acts as though we didn’t just have a whole damn conversation, and the way he can flip a switch like that, makes me even madder. I sigh and step over the broken glass, hissing at the pain in the bottoms of my feet when I do. “The boys are at your mom’s, and Rosalie is at cheer practice,” I announce.
Sitting down I decide to pick some of the glass out of my feet. Before my ass even hits the tile floor, West picks me up in his arms. “I’m sorry I hurt you, baby,” he murmurs.
I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me upstairs and doesn’t stop until we’re in our bathroom. He sets me down on the vanity and then crouches down at my feet. “Fuck, Ivy, I’m sorry,” he repeats.
I could tell him that it’s okay, that I’m okay, but I don’t. Choosing to stay quiet, I watch as he cleans my feet, removing pieces of glass before putting hydrogen peroxide on my wounds then patching them up with Band-Aids. He picks me up and carries me to our bed, laying me down, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t join me.
“Take a nap. I’ll clean up the kitchen and shit,” he murmurs.
This time I try to open my mouth to speak, but he’s shocked me completely speechless. He stands and walks out of our bedroom, all the while I lie there staring at the empty doorway he just walked through and wonder what the hell just happened? Did what I say to him truly penetrate? I can only hope and pray.
It takes me longer than it probably should to clean up the mess from the oil bottle I threw across the room. I was fucking heated and I snapped. The thing is, I didn’t have a reason to get mad, at least not at Ivy. She wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest. She was actually completely on target. I’ve been a shit dad, and I’ve been getting progressively worse. I’ve been so inside of my own head that I haven’t just abandoned my wife, I’ve abandoned my whole family.
Sometimes I feel like I’m a little slow on the uptake, and for whatever reason, it all just clicked today. I need to take care of my home—my kids. Then, I can worry about the rest.
So, starting this week, I’m going to focus on them. They’ve noticed a change in me, especially Rosalie and I need her to know that I’m still her dad, and I’ll always be here for her.
I don’t know if it was a mistake or not, deciding not to stay at the house, but instead choosing to sleep at the clubhouse. I feel like me and Ivy need a little more distance. I need to think about what I want.
I’ve been so worried about not hurting her, about hiding what I want, that I need to figure out how to tell her exactly what I want from her. I haven’t really communicated it well enough, and I don’t know that I ever will be able to.
“Dad?” Rosalie’s voice calls out. I stand, shifting
the dustpan into a different hand and dumping the glass in the garbage can. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your clubhouse?” she asks snottily.
I should put her in her teenage girl place, but I don’t. I deserve a little sass from her. “Can you write down the pickup times for you and your brothers and stuff for the week?” I ask, ignoring her snarky attitude.
“Why?”
Letting out a puff of air, I scratch my bearded chin. “Your mom’s new job starts Monday and I told her I’d help with pickups and stuff.”
“I thought Grandma was helping,” she shrugs as she walks over to the counter and pulls open a drawer.
I’m surprised to see that it has paper and pencils inside. Looking around, I honestly can’t remember the last time that I opened any cabinet in the kitchen, other than the one that houses the drinking glasses.
“Not this week,” I state.
Rosalie looks up from her writing and narrows her eyes at me. “Is this like, you spending time with us before you leave for good?” she bluntly asks.
I don’t even know where that blunt part of her personality comes from. Certainly not me and Ivy, maybe it’s from her Uncle Grease. That fucker lets it all hang out.
“I know I haven’t been around much, sweetie, but I’m aiming to be better.”
She shrugs, looking down at her paper as if it’s all the same to her. I know that it isn’t. I know that she’s been upset with me for some time. I wish that I could ease all of her fears and worries, but the cold fucking truth is that even I don’t know what will happen between her mother and me.
That kills me because in a perfect world I would have Ivy at my side, always. Unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world, and we don’t always get everything we want.
Opening my mouth to speak to her some more, to try and placate her fears, I’m interrupted when the front door slams and I hear my boys calling out for their mom.
“Where is Mom?” Rosalie asks as the boys come into view.
“She’s upstairs resting,” I shrug.
Reid wrinkles his little nose and I chuckle. “What’s for dinner then?” he asks.
“Mom should have something frozen in the fridge, I can just bake it,” Rosalie states as she starts to walk toward the refrigerator.
Wrapping my hand around her shoulder, I don’t let her walk toward the fridge. “Let’s order takeout, maybe stop by Carlotta’s and get some desserts for later?” I ask with a smile.
The boys cheer, but Rosalie looks at me warily. I wait for her to speak and when she does, it makes my stomach twist. “Mom won’t eat takeout, Dad. She won’t eat any desserts either,” she whispers. “She’s afraid you’ll say she’s fat again.”
My eyes widen at her words, unbelieving that Ivy would tell her such a thing. “Where’d you hear that, Rosalie?”
“I’m not dumb. Besides, I heard you tell Tinker all those months ago, and then Mom started her crazy gym stuff and eating clean. It wasn’t hard to figure out. She’s happier now though, with herself at least,” she points out. She’s way too mature for her age, and I don’t like it.
I pull her against my chest and just hug her. “Mom knows that I didn’t mean that, sweetie. Your mom has always been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I murmur.
Rosalie tips her head back and looks at me straight in the eye. “Then why aren’t you ever around?”
She asks me the million dollar question and fuck, I want to give her that reassuring lie. I want to make that obvious ache in her heart go away—but I can’t.
“You’ll understand when you’re an adult, sweetie.” I lie. “Now, maybe you can take something out that Mom would want, and we’ll do a Carlotta’s run and eat it in the car so we don’t tempt her?” I ask, giving the boys a wink.
They cheer and dance around. She gives me a small smile and nods once in obvious approval. I know that I’ve not won my daughter back by any means, but at least she gave me a smile—I’ll fucking take it.
I wake up to the smell of coffee. West is standing next to my bed holding a cup in his hand. It’s from the local coffee house and I’m surprised to see him there. I sit up and attempt to comb my fingers through my messy hair. West shoves the cup toward me and I wrap my hand around it, bringing it to my chest as I continue to keep my gaze on his.
“Taking the kids for the day,” he announces.
Blinking I bring the cup to my lips and take a sip. “To do what?” I ask curiously. I can’t remember the last time he took all of the kids anywhere, let alone for an entire day. It’s probably been years.
“Dunno, yet,” he shrugs. “That gonna be a problem?” he asks defensively.
I shake my head. I don’t want to piss him off, and I’m glad that it seems as though he may have really turned over a new leaf. I hope that he has. I hope that whatever his issues were, that he’s working on them and that we can work together.
He lifts his chin and takes a step back. “I called the prospect to come by and watch you for the day. You need to go anywhere he can follow behind you or whatever.”
“Can you tell me why we need twenty-four-seven protection, West?” I chance to ask.
West sighs and looks down at his boots, not answering me immediately. Once he’s gathered his thoughts he lifts his head. “It’s precautionary, Ivy. Nothin’ to really worry about,” he lies.
I know it’s a lie, I can tell by the way he won’t meet my eyes. I should demand more, but right now I feel like we’re just too delicate for that. Instead, I give him a nod and a smile.
“See you tonight,” he murmurs as he turns around.
I watch him walk out of our bedroom and I feel a sadness wash over me. I’m sad that this is what our lives have resulted to. I can’t talk to him and he feels like he can’t be open and honest with me as well. It hurts. So much.
Taking another sip of my coffee, I’m surprised when my cell phone starts to ring on my nightstand. I groan at the name flashing but then I decide to go ahead and answer. I’ve been avoiding everybody for far too long.
“Hello,” I murmur.
“Holy shit, she’s alive,” Mary-Anne cries.
I almost laugh. I’ve been the one avoiding and being a bitch, so I don’t. “Hey, I’m sorry about being absent.”
“Lunch today?” she asks.
I agree immediately.
Maybe I should unload some of what’s happening onto Mary-Anne’s shoulders and see what she thinks. She’s been married to her roughneck for around the same amount of time as I’ve been with West. She announces the diner in town and the time before she ends the call. I only have a few hours to myself so I decide to finish my coffee before I get dressed for the day—in silence.
Once my drink is consumed, I head toward my master bathroom and start the water. Glancing in the mirror, I notice my hair and I smile. I love the new cut and color. It makes my body transformation complete. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so happy with the way I’ve looked before. I just wish that the rest of my life was as together as my appearance.
West always made me feel beautiful, but I never really thought of myself that way when I was alone and facing the mirror. Things are different now. I’m different now. I’m discovering that I’m much more comfortable in my skin. I feel good about myself and I’m happy with me. I can only hope that soon, I’ll be happy in my relationship with my husband as well.
After I’ve showered, straightened my hair, and applied my makeup I decide to put some clothes on. The diner is just a greasy spoon, so it doesn’t really matter what I wear. I opt for a pair of my new distressed skinny jeans, and an off the shoulder peach body suit. Slipping my feet into my gold sandals, I grab my phone and shove it in my purse before I head downstairs.
Opening the front door, I’m startled at the sight of Derek standing just beside it. I shouldn’t be, West told me he’d be here. “Hey, babe,” he rasps as his eyes slowly travel every inch of my body. I feel like he can see through my clothes and the idea
is exhilarating. It shouldn’t be—but it is.
“I’m going to the diner, West said you had to follow me?” I squeak.
His lips tip up in a small smile and he winks. “I’ll drive your rig, hand me your keys.”
I do as he says and place my keys in the palm of his hand, though I’m not sure why I’m going to allow him to drive my car. He curls his hand around the keys and shifts them to his other palm before he presses his hand on my lower back. I shiver at his touch and tip my head back to look up at him.
“Let’s get goin’, babe,” he murmurs.
I’m dumbfounded by the way his heat feels against my back, and by his soft tone when he speaks to me. I’m surprised by Derek. He helps me into the passenger side of the SUV and I watch him jog around to the driver’s side before he climbs inside.
“I thought your man was going to be with you all weekend?” he asks as soon as he starts the engine.
All thoughts of how warm Derek’s hand felt on my back disappear. I gulp as I turn to face the window, watching the trees in my front yard drift by as he backs down my driveway. “He decided to spend time with our children.”
“And not their mama, too?” he questions. I shake my head. “Everybody at the club knows there’s something up between you two, Ivy. I don’t know much because I’m nobody, but I have eyes. You look fucking miserable, babe,” he murmurs as his hand wraps around my knee and gives me a squeeze.
I bite the corner of my bottom lip. “When you’re married, you go through ups and downs. You go through rough patches,” I whisper.
He snorts. “Yeah, pretty sure this is more than just a fucking rough patch, babe.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he pulls into a parking spot. I shouldn’t be surprised by how short of a drive it was since I only live about five minutes from the diner, but I am.
“You think about how he treats you, how he’s gone from you and doesn’t give a fucking shit how you feel about that. Think about that and tell me it’s just a fucking rough patch. Then think about what it would be like to be with a man who thinks you’re fucking gorgeous. Who thinks you’re down-to-earth, sweet, and kind. Who would worship you.”
Rough & Real Page 8
